GEN. 17:1-7
The covenant has been established. God now tests Abram’s response to the covenant with two imperatives:
1. “Walk before me” (Gen. 17:1), that is, in my presence. “To walk” means to live life out; life is a walking about. “The verb ‘walk’… is a reminder that all of life is an ongoing pilgrimage. There can be no ‘once for all’ formula for instant holiness, because life’s circumstances and demands keep changing, like the different phases of a journey. In all of them the Lord wants his people to please him by walking before him, that is, in his presence, with nothing to hide from him.”1
2. “Be… perfect” (v. 1, KJV). Most modern translations render this second imperative as “be blameless.” One reason for this is that the Greek translation of the Old Testament (the Septuagint) translated the Hebrew word tamim by the Greek word amemptos, which does carry the meaning “blameless.” But as Steve Green points out, there is a major difference between these two words. “Blameless” reflects a subjective judgment, while “perfect” reflects a condition. Of course in contemporary culture there is a stigma attached to the concept of perfection that encourages us to avoid its use, especially when applying it to ourselves. But as Old Testament theologian Gerhard von Rad observes, the Hebrew word refers to a relational perfection of Abram toward God. It does not necessarily mean moral perfection, or living without mistakes, but signifies complete, unqualified surrender. The word is used in Gen. 20:5 to refer to human relationships “without ulterior motives, unreserved.”2 Von Rad notes that what God is requiring of Abram is the complete, unqualified surrender of his life.3 Abram is to be entirely committed to God.
Accordingly, the structure of Abram’s story suggests four implications of these two imperatives:
1. The holy life is lived out in the context of a covenant relationship. We have seen repeatedly that Abram was not a perfect person as far as being without flaw or failure. He clearly lacked the qualifications to establish a relationship with God on the basis of a holy life. That relationship could only be explained through God’s gracious activity that likewise extends to us the offer of communion regardless of our worthiness. In a word, the covenant offered to Abram was a covenant of grace and was established on the basis of God’s promise not Abram’s qualification.
This was a lesson that took a number of years for John Wesley to learn. In his Plain Account of Christian Perfection he recounts that in the year 1729, he
began not only to read, but to study, the Bible, as the one, the only standard of truth, and the only model of pure religion. Hence I saw, in a clearer and clearer light, the indispensable necessity of having “the mind which was in Christ,” and of “walking as Christ also walked”; even of having, not some part only, but all the mind which was in him; and of walking as he walked, not only in many or in most respects, but in all things. And this was the light, wherein at this time I generally considered religion, as a uniform following of Christ, an entire inward and outward conformity to our Master.4
In the succeeding years he strenuously pursued this ideal but always experienced defeat in finding the assurance of acceptance he sought. His journal entry graphically described this fruitless pursuit:
I diligently strove against all sin. I omitted no sort of self-denial which I thought lawful: I carefully used, both in public and in private, all the means of grace at all opportunities. I omitted no occasion of doing good: I for that reason suffered evil. And all this I knew to be nothing, unless as it was directed toward inward holiness. Accordingly this, the image of God, was what I aimed at in all, by doing his will, not my own. Yet when, after continuing some years in this course, I apprehended myself to be near death, I could not find that all this gave me any comfort, or any assurance of acceptance with God. At this I was then not a little surprised; not imagining I had been all this time building on the sand, nor considering that “other foundation can no man lay, than that which is laid” by God, “even Christ Jesus.”5
Eventually, under the influence of the Moravian brethren, a group of Lutheran Christians, he learned the lesson of faith that culminated in his transforming experience on May 24, 1738. His own description identifies the link of faith that “closed the circuit” and gave him the awareness of full acceptance:
In the evening I went very unwillingly to a society in Aldersgate Street, where one was reading Luther’s preface to the Epistle to the Romans. About a quarter before nine, while he was describing the change which God works in the heart through faith in Christ, I felt my heart strangely warmed. I felt I did trust in Christ, Christ alone for salvation: And an assurance was given me, that he had taken away my sins, even mine, and saved me from the law of sin and death.6
Wesley had learned through bitter experience that, as with Abram, God does not scrutinize our moral worth but freely offers himself to us if we will only respond in faith. If this truth is not preserved—and it is clearly implied in the structure of Abram’s story—we fall quickly into works righteousness and lose the gospel. The gospel is good news, not good advice.
2. The second implication is that the holy life is lived out in the context of the revelation of a God of power. When the Lord called Abram to be perfect, he identified himself as El Shaddai, which means “God Almighty.” God does not call us to action on the basis of our human capabilities alone. He offers not only the gift of his presence but also the gift of His power. The gospel is good news in this respect also.
But we must recognize that God’s power that is effective in transforming human life is not effective apart from our cooperation. Paul clearly makes this point in Phil. 2:12b-13: “Work out your own salvation with fear and trembling; for it is God who is at work in you, enabling you both to will and to work for his good pleasure.”
This paradoxical statement reflects the biblical understanding of the relationship between nature and grace. On the one hand, if we were to ignore the biblical teaching about the fallenness of humanity, theologically referred to as original sin, we could claim that a human being has the natural capacity to achieve a holy life on his or her own. On the other hand, if we were to adopt a magical view of the divine-human relationship, in which God miraculously changes the structure of the human psyche, Paul’s exhortation to “work out your own salvation” would be pointless.
John Wesley quotes Augustine as saying, “He that made us without ourselves, will not save us without ourselves.”7 As far as our five senses go, we could conclude that this paradox is a contradiction. The internal empowering of the Holy Spirit is not perceptible externally; it is known and experienced only by faith. But millions of believers have experienced and testified to this gracious gift of God in their lives. All this is simply a way of saying that holiness of life is a possibility and that it includes the operation of both nature and grace. The twofold aspect of this call to Abram reflects this truth.
3. The third implication is that the holy life is lived out as a response to the faithfulness of God. John Wesley taught that all God’s commandments were implicit promises and that by implication the response for which God called would be accompanied by enabling grace. In a word, God’s promise is a commitment of himself to keep his word. The faithfulness of God recurs throughout Scripture, giving assurance that when his word is given, we can have explicit faith that it will come to pass.
4. The fourth implication is that the holy life is characterized by “surrender,” “openness,” and “wholeness.” That is the significance of the Hebrew word tamim. A relationship of this character is possible only on the basis of a complete trust in the one to whom we surrender. Thus the perfection to which Abram was called is a relationship of perfect trust. Thus once again his faith is put to the test.
Apparently, by this time, Abram’s faith had matured to where God’s call to holy living did not elicit from him any doubt, fear, or resistance, since he responded with worship: “[He] fell on his face” (Gen. 17:3). The patriarch’s name is changed from Abram to Abraham at this point in his pilgrimage—from a name that means “exalted ancestor” to one that means “ancestor of multitudes.” As so often in the Old Testament, this change of name implies a change of status that further assures him of the fulfillment of the promise. Perhaps Joyce Baldwin is right in suggesting that “God Almighty is making Abraham a new man, with new power spiritually engrafted. The new name is symbolic of his regeneration, with all the new possibilities this implies.” But it could also be an occasion for joking at Abraham’s expense, since Sarah was still barren. Faith in the promises of God will often make a person look ridiculous, as it did Noah and as it will do believers in the “last days,” who, as Peter suggested, will be scoffed at for their faith in the promise of Christ’s return (2 Pet. 3:3-4). Like Abraham, his children must affirm their faith and live in the hope of God’s faithfulness.
Both Gen. 15:1-6 and this encounter reveal an advance in the divine-human relationship and a deepening of the understanding on the part of Abraham of what it means to be called by God and to receive God’s promise.8