By Her Faith
A Reckoning with My Least Favorite Chapter in the Bible: Hebrews 11
In this post, I am writing on my least favorite passage in all of Scripture.
This passage is Hebrews 11, or—as it is affectionately called—the Hall of Faith. I struggle with this chapter because it is presented as a highlight reel of faithfulness, but when I read it, all I see is a scrapbook of depravity.
As I read through this list of names, I see abusers, addicts, oppressors, rapists, and murderers. I see Noah who got black out drunk and then had the audacity to curse his own son for finding him like that. I see Abraham who lied about his wife being his sister so that she could be sexually commodified for his own gain—twice! I also see Isaac who followed in his father’s footsteps and did the same thing to his wife. I see Jacob who was manipulative and deceitful at every turn. I see Moses who was a murderer. I see Samson who was greedy and selfish. I see David who raped a woman, got her pregnant, murdered her husband, and then continued to abuse his political power for the rest of his life. I see Jephthah who slaughtered his own daughter in the name of God.
You have heard the stories of Noah, Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. You have heard sermon after sermon exalting their faithfulness. You have heard that God can redeem the worst of men. You know that God is eager to use imperfect men to bring about his own glory and salvation. We have all chiseled away at the marble pedestals upon which these great men stand in the hall of faith. But at what cost?
It seems to me that each of these men are exalted for their faithfulness at the expense of their victims. These victims remain unnamed, their absence making me wonder whether the Hall of Faith was erected on their graves.
As I was preparing to write this piece, I resisted the Spirit’s call to tackle this chapter. Like a child resistant to her Mother, I complained. These stories have been told. This sermon has been preached. Let me spoil the ending—God can use anyone, even a murderer, rapist, and abuser! Then, I felt God respond. He told me that he could handle my questions. Like Jacob in the wilderness, God challenged me to a wrestling match with this passage.
They told me that They could take it.
So, let’s wrestle with this passage together.
I want to look at the women in this passage—named and unnamed. We will learn a lot about faith through the stories of these women. We will look at the two named women in this chapter, the two women whose names are right under the surface, and two unnamed victims.
Through these stories, we will discover that faith is confidence in what we hope for, assurance about what we do not see, and an expectation of restoration.
SARAH
Imagine with me that your husband has asked you to leave your home. He has asked you to move somewhere completely foreign. Imagine, also, that you are not only a foreigner in a strange land. But you are also a foreigner in your own body. Your most important job as a woman is to procreate. And yet, here you are, past the age of childbearing— childless. Your husband has been talking to God, but you haven’t heard him directly. You’ve only heard a promise of descendants. You’ve only heard an oath of fertility. Surely, this covenant does not—and cannot—include you. You are defective. You are broken. You are possibly the only thing keeping your husband from fulfilling a holy prophecy from God himself. You know of other women who use surrogates to provide an heir. This is not unheard of in your culture. Yet, you will go down in history as the one who doubted God. You will be the unreasonable and irrational one. Not your husband, who agreed to slaughter your child before asking a single question. He pleaded and begged for the salvation of Sodom and Gomorrah—leading God to change his mind several times. Yet, with your baby, he offers no word of defense or plea.
By faith, indeed.
RAHAB
Now, imagine with me that you are a prostitute in Canaan. You spend your days pleasing men and collecting their coin. You have made a name for yourself, but this does not prevent you from experiencing the same abuse as every other woman in your line of work. You are weary. You are a possession. One day, you rescue a group of spies. These spies represent a significant threat to you and your entire family. You spend your evening convincing them to spare you. You use every story that you’ve heard of their God through your many nights of forced attention. You have been a good listener. Your quick thinking saves you from the violence of these men. That is your specialty, after all.
By faith, indeed.
Sarah and Rahab are the only two women listed in this chapter by name. They each get one verse with very little explanation. In Sarah’s case, the emphasis is even put on Abraham as the one who enabled her to have children. However, throughout the lives of Sarah and Rahab, they continue to have confidence in what they hope for. For Sarah, she hopes for a child. For Rahab, she hopes for freedom and safety. This hope keeps them going. And yet, it may not have felt like hope in the moment. It might have felt like survival. It felt like getting up and doing what they could to see another day. But the author of Hebrews knows this. The author knows that faith is a run with perseverance. Sarah and Rahab are excellent examples of this. Even when everything felt hopeless, they continued to have confidence that God would keep his promise.
To live in faith, we must have confidence in what we hope for. Then, we must also have assurance in what we do not see.
Now, we move to the unnamed women in Hebrews 11—Hagar, the surrogate of Abraham and Sarah, and the Matriarchs of Moses. These are women that belong in this passage, but they are not mentioned by name.
HAGAR
One cannot faithfully retell the story of Abraham without mentioning Hagar. When Sarah could not bear children, she urged Abraham to sleep with Hagar. Hagar became pregnant with a son, Ishmael. However, when Hagar became pregnant, Sarah started to abuse her. Hagar ran away, but God encouraged her to return with a blessing. It was at this point that Hagar gave God the name, “El Roi—the God who sees.” Years later, after Sarah gave birth to Isaac, she asked for Hagar and Ishmael to be thrown out into the wilderness. Abraham did as Sarah asked, leaving them to die in the wilderness. She left her son under a bush because she couldn’t stand to watch him die. It was at this point that God intervened and provided for them. She was forced to bear the child of a man in power, only to be abused and oppressed, and cast out. However, throughout all this, she becomes the first person in scripture to name God.
SHIPHRAH, PUAH, AND JOCHEBED
In Hebrews 11, the “parents” of Moses are exalted as faithful. However, we know almost nothing about the father of Moses. Instead, it was the women surrounding Moses who saved him and ultimately saved Israel as a result. It was Shiphrah and Puah, the Israelite midwives, who lied to Pharaoh and continued to save the lives of baby boys. It was Jochebed, the mother of Moses, who hid her own infant son for three months. It was his sister, Miriam, who followed him down the river and devised a plan to save him and keep his mother in his life. It was the daughter of Pharaoh who fished him out of the water and raised him. All of these women, the Matriarchs of Moses, are the names that belong in this list.
Jochebed is not mentioned by name until Exodus 6:20, only in passing. Her name means, “Yahweh is glory.” Jochebed’s name is the first in scripture to have the divine element “Yah” which is the abbreviated form of Yahweh.
This means that Hagar was the first person in Scripture to name God, and Jochebed is the first person in Scripture to bear God’s name— both women, slaves, oppressed, and trying desperately to protect to their babies from death.
They both had assurance in what they did not see. They both exhibited faithfulness in trusting God with the fate of their infants. They both trusted in God’s protection and provision, even when everything in their life was falling apart. Both Ishmael and Moses would become blessed through the faith of their mothers.
We have seen through the examples of Sarah and Rahab that faith is confidence in what we hope for. We have seen through Hagar and Jochebed that faith is assurance about what we do not see. Now, through the stories of Bathsheba and Jephthah’s daughter, we will see that faith is an expectation of redemption. Neither of these women are mentioned by name, and neither of these women are even hinted at in this chapter. However, their stories are important to reckon with. These women are major victims of violence at the hands of two men who are exalted in Hebrews 11:32—David and Jephthah. These texts are notoriously difficult to reckon with. They are so awful, that I hesitate to even tell these stories.
However, as Eugene Peterson wrote, “We don’t become more spiritual by becoming less human.” So, let’s hear these stories, and I invite you to use the full extent of your humanity as I do so.
BATHSHEBA
Bathsheba’s husband was off to war. She was in her home, minding her own business, when she hears rapid and thorough knocks on her door. Her heart sinks through the floor. Could it be news of her husband’s death? No. It is so much worse. The king has beckoned her to his presence. He then proceeds to rape her. She knows that she has just finished her period, so she immediately runs home to wash as thoroughly as possible. She waits in agony for a whole month for her blood to come. It never does. She weeps and weeps, knowing what this must mean for her husband, Uriah. She sends word to the king. Next thing she knows, she hears more knocking on the door. This time, her fears are confirmed. Her husband has been murdered in battle, and the king is to be her new husband. Months go by and then Bathsheba loses her infant son. Everyone she knows and loves is dead because of the violence of her new husband, King David. Scripture reads that David comforts Bathsheba by getting her pregnant again.
SEILA
In Midrash accounts of this story, Jephthah’s daughter is named Seila. I will call her by this name. Seila was an only child. She was twelve or thirteen years old when her father went off to war. She prayed for his safe return every day. One day, she sees him on the horizon. She jumps up in glee and gets her instruments ready so that she can welcome him with a song and a dance. Her daddy loves when she sings and dances. But this time, all of the blood drains from his face. He begins to weep violently as he tells her that it is God’s will for her to die. She is confused. Is human sacrifice not something reserved for pagans? Her father urges her that he has no choice but to honor his oath to God. She is desperate to console her father and follow God’s will. So, she asks her father for two more months to grieve the life that she will never have. After the two months, she begs her father to reconsider. He tells her that, no, this is what God wants. Your last thought as your father lights the flame is “How could a God be so cruel?” It is easier to blame God than it is to blame your own father.
When hearing these horrific stories, only one thing comforts me. It is that God intimately understands the suffering of Bathsheba and Seila.
God understands the awful, devastating grief of losing a child; and God understands the awful, devastating grief of being sacrificed by his own father.
The faith of Bathsheba and Seila was suppressed and crushed by the horrific violence and oppression of men. But this is the sort of faith that Jesus Christ perfects.
Hebrews 12:2 proclaims, “For the joy set before him he endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. Consider him who endured such opposition from sinners, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart.”
Rachel Held Evans, when writing on the Texts of Terror, writes, “On the cross, Jesus chose to align himself with the victims of suffering rather than the inflictors of it.” On the cross, he chose the side of Bathsheba and Seila—not David or Jephthah.
This is the power of our faith under a new covenant— Jesus Christ gives us an expectation of redemption. One day, the suffering of Bathsheba and Seila will be redeemed. It is being redeemed even now, as we tell their stories and we remember them.
Again, Rachel Held Evans writes, “If the Bible’s text of terror compel us to face with fresh horror and resolve the ongoing and oppression and exploitation of women, then perhaps these stories do not trouble us in vain. Perhaps we can use them for some good.”
There are still innocent victims of needless violence all over the world. There are still women who endure the pain of Bathsheba and Seila. Just months ago, I read a news story where a father shot and killed three of his sons. He lined them up like cattle in his backyard. I do not know how such evil could be committed. But I do know the kind of Savior that we have. I know that he was standing right there with those little boys. That he will always align himself with the victim rather than the oppressor. And he has big plans to redeem the suffering of innocent people. This is the faith that I have.
This is the power of the gospel. We know that God is able to redeem both oppressor and oppressed. We know that the cross was also for the Davids and Jephthahs.
But we need to know that if God is able to redeem their stories, how much more will he be able to redeem the pain and suffering of their victims?
I am here to tell you today that God wants to use your story. Whether your story of faith is confidence in what you hope for, assurance in what you do not see, or an expectation of redemption— God wants you to live out that faith and then to share that story of faith with others. I want to challenge you to go out and share your story, whether you end up more on the side of Noah and David or on the side of Sarah or Jochebed, God can redeem your story. God is the author and perfecter of our faith.
I want to conclude today with a Midrashic reinterpretation of Hebrews 11:
By faith, Noah’s wife, Naamah, endured the scorn and ridicule of her friends and family while her husband built a massive vessel. She then lost every single person she knew in a devastating deluge.
By faith, Sarah struggled with infertility. She lived most of her life feeling broken and useless. Finally, she gave birth to a son only to have her husband try and sacrifice him on a mountain.
By faith, Hagar endured the physical and mental abuse of her masters. She trusted in God’s promise and provision to protect her son. She was the first person in Scripture to name God.
By faith, Rebekah left her family and everyone she knew to marry a man she had never met.
By faith, Rachel grieved the children of Israel.
By faith, Shiphrah and Puah delivered the children of Israel.
By faith, Jochebed surrendered her own son to God, trusting in Her sovereignty to save the life of her infant son.
By faith, Miriam protected her brother from violence and then led the people of Israel as a prophetess.
By faith, Rahab showed hospitality to two enemy spies. Because of this, she would go down in history as more than a nameless prostitute. She would be honored for her faithfulness and wisdom.
By faith, Deborah delivered the word of God to the people of Israel as a Judge.
By faith, Bathsheba endured horrible violence at the hands of a man of God. By faith, her pain and suffering will be redeemed.
By faith, Seila endured horrible violence at the hands of a fool. By faith, her pain and suffering will be redeemed.
The artwork with this post is by William Ladd Taylor— “Hagar and Ishmael in the Wilderness.”