Have a read of Genesis 18v16 to the end of the chapter...
Why does God seem so weird in this passage? He seems unsure, undecided, asking rhetorical questions that appear to be at odds with so much of what we know of his character. When God muses, ‘Shall I hide from Abraham what I am about to do?’ it tips over into something that reads like panto, with the audience expected to chime in with a sing-song ‘Oh yes you should.’ There’s the bit when God suggests that he might need to go down to Sodom and Gomorrah and check out the extent of the damage himself, just to see if the reports (which he’s got from whom, by the way?) are correct. He seems less like an omniscient mighty God and more like an insurance claims investigator. How weird is that?
And as if that wasn’t enough, there’s the way that Abraham is behaving, that’s frankly quite bizarre: surely those negotiations are a little out of the ordinary?
They start with a symbolic act that could have those of a certain disposition whimpering with indignation: how on earth (or in heaven, for that matter) can Abraham be allowed to remain standing in front of God, blocking the way of the Almighty, muscling up to the Creator? And not only is Abraham doing this physically, but he starts a full-on disagreement with God about what he is going to do.
And then there’s the whole whittling down of the numbers. It seems odd, silly even, as if God has been dragged into some kind of playground game with a mouthy student from the year below.
To top it all, when we consider that the next section begins with the title ‘Sodom and Gomorrah destroyed’, the whole scene – from God’s musings about what to do through to Abraham’s bartering for the lives of the people – has an air of utter futility and pointlessness about it.
Why did God agree to spare the lives of the citizens if ten righteous ones were found, when only four righteous people were found – and one of them ended up a pillar of disobedient salt? What was God playing at? He knew that there weren’t ten people in the place worth saving yet he allowed Abraham to carry on under what must have been the flawed assumption that his nephew – Lot – would have had a family of ten and that they would all have been good, righteous folk.
Was God just playing games with Abraham? Does God play games with us? Does he let us contort ourselves into all manner of odd positions just for fun, for distraction, for revenge?
Some suggest Sodom and Gomorrah’s destruction was payback for a thriving gay culture. The words of the prophet Ezekiel suggest otherwise: ‘Now this was the sin of your sister Sodom: She and her daughters were arrogant, overfed and unconcerned; they did not help the poor and needy.
They were haughty and did detestable things before me. Therefore I did away with them as you have seen.’
Ezekiel 16v49–50
The questions facing us right here are about Abraham. Why did he care? Why did he think that it was in any way appropriate for him to stand in God’s face as he did? Abraham had already rescued Lot once before when he’d been taken captive as the result of a military coup. But this isn’t simply about Abraham speaking up for his own, remember: he’s trying to get everyone off the hook. Why?
Because at the heart of this passage is a fundamental point about justice: ‘doing what is right and just’, as the verse puts it is as vital an ingredient in our relationship with God as devotion, service and adoration.
Abraham’s actions set a precedent. Look a little later on in the Bible at Amos 7 and we see a similar story: the prophet – charged with auditing and getting back on track the wayward worshippers – hears that God intends to wipe them out first by a plague of locusts and then by fire. Both times Amos intervenes and pleads with God to relent. Both times He does.
Or we could look at Luke 10 – the story of the Good Samaritan. It comes as an answer to the question, ‘Who is my neighbour?’ Why does the question matter in the first place? Because loving our neighbour is a central theme in God’s fathering of us, a lesson he has been teaching for thousands of years: love your neighbour as yourself (Leviticus 19v18).
Abraham got in God’s face for a reason. It wasn’t cheek, self-interest or boredom. It was justice – the fact that he understood that Sodom’s failings were not something he could turn a blind eye to. Abraham took God’s promise from Genesis 12 seriously – that he would be a blessing to other people.
And this is the key: God wants us to take on responsibility for being agents of human justice – to realise that we are ‘blessed to be a blessing’.
Abraham didn’t fail when he ended his negotiations with God by settling for ten instead of four righteous people. He didn’t mess up because he failed to change the outcome. He passed the test – just as he would later pass the test with his son on the altar – by showing that he was not a passenger in his faith.
He was not passive and he did not absolve himself of responsibility for a world gone wrong. Instead he took on the mantle of one fighting for human justice. His was an active faith; it was a catalyst, an irritant to apathy. The lesson was about getting to his feet, not running off with the prize.
The world of tents and angels and pillars of salt may be distant to us, but the cries of those trapped by injustice are every bit as loud. And just like the ‘outcry’ that caught God’s ear in Genesis 18:20, today’s are no different.
How do we respond to them? Do we close our eyes, ears, mouths and hearts? Or do we get up and fight to make it different? Do we leave justice to others or do we make poverty personal?
Craig is a legend. He's a writer of many books, sometimes does stuff for Tearfund and is the reason the Soul Survivor Magazine exists (he created the first one)!