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We live in a culture shaped by fear—the fear of missing out. In many households, waiting isn't rewarded; it leads to missing out. This anxiety affects our approach to holidays, work, relationships, and even our response to the claims of Jesus.
When I first became a Christian during my first year at university, I understood that Jesus offered me forgiveness and life in him. It was wonderful—I had a great church and great Christian friends. But when I arrived home that summer, my family thought I'd joined a cult, my home friends thought I'd become boring and legalistic, and I had to end a non-Christian relationship. The overarching feeling was: Is this faith really worth it? Right now it doesn't feel like it.
Maybe you feel the same. If you've been a Christian for any length of time, it can feel like we're missing out or giving up all the fun stuff now. Or perhaps you're exploring Christian faith and think it seems too restrictive, with too many rules to follow.
Over this summer, we've been looking at Hebrews 11 and asking: What does it mean to have faith? We've seen that the decision to have faith isn't a fuzzy feeling inside, but a conscious decision to trust God based on evidence. The question for us today is: What if following Jesus means missing out now? Are we really prepared to wait for life beyond the grave?
The original hearers of Hebrews faced this same question. They were tempted to give up, fearful of missing out, and tempted to settle for life in the here and now. But Hebrews 11:17–22 turns this way of thinking on its head.
Our passage gives us four examples of faith: Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, and Joseph. Each faced death and made decisions that seemed strange. But they weren't afraid to miss out, and they didn't cling to what they had in this life. They were convinced that "you only live once" is a pale myth.
Before the episode we're reading, God had called Abraham to give up everything with the promise that He would make him into a great nation with many descendants. The problem: Abraham and Sarah were very old and had no children. Humanly speaking, the promise seemed impossible.
Yet after years of waiting, God finally gave them Isaac. And Isaac wasn't just Abraham's beloved son—he was the child through whom all God's promises were meant to come. We can imagine how Abraham treated him, wrapped up in cotton wool, with all his servants running around him. Nothing could happen to Isaac. He was the child of promise, the hope of the entire world.
Which is why what came next was such a shock.
"By faith, Abraham, when he was tested, offered up Isaac. And he who had received the promises was in the act of offering up his only son, of whom it was said, 'Through Isaac shall your offspring be named.' He considered that God was able even to raise him from the dead, from which, figuratively speaking, he did receive him back." (Hebrews 11:17–19)
After all those years of waiting, after finally receiving the promised son, God told Abraham to offer Isaac as a sacrifice. It made no sense. If Isaac dies, how can God's promises possibly come true? God, you're asking me to give up the very thing you promised me.
But look at verse 19: Abraham considered that God was able even to raise him from the dead. Abraham wasn't willing to give up Isaac because he understood everything God was doing. He acted because he believed God's promise was more certain than anything he could see or understand. Abraham concluded that if God had promised to bring his descendants through Isaac, then somehow, even if Isaac died, God would still keep his promise. He reasoned that God would even raise him from the dead.
The question for Abraham was not: What will I lose? The question was: What has God promised?
The choice to have faith does not pretend that obedience isn't costly. Abraham knew it would cost him dearly. But faith believes that whatever obedience costs, God's promises are better.
Faith isn't just being willing to give up bad things to Jesus. It's also being willing to hold good things loosely. Sometimes the things we're most tempted to cling to aren't bad things—they're good things: friendship, family, a comfortable life. Isaac was not a bad thing for Abraham to cling onto. All these things are great gifts from God. But none of them should be as precious to us as Him.
I have felt super challenged thinking: If, like Abraham, God took this one thing away from me, would I still be content that I had Jesus? If God took away my Christian friends and the great church I go to, if it all ended, would I still be content that I have Jesus? It's caused me to remember that I'm not a Christian because it gives me good friends or good morals or great community, but because Jesus is the most precious thing.
Jim Elliot, the 20th-century missionary who was murdered in Ecuador, wrote: "He is no fool who gives what he cannot keep to gain what he cannot lose." That's Abraham's faith. It is not pretending that missing out is cheap and easy. It's believing that God's promises are totally dependable and worth so much more, even if it means letting go of everything now.
You might ask: Why on earth would you decide to live like that? Why would I risk everything on the promise that God can give life after death?
But look at the evidence. God is always true to his promises. Abraham was stopped before he sacrificed Isaac, though he was good as dead. God provided a ram to be sacrificed instead. And God really did build his people into a great nation.
And this story points us to something even greater. Two thousand years later, on another hill, God provided another son—His son, Jesus. But this time, the son really was killed. Jesus died as the ultimate sacrifice for our sin. And then He rose again. God kept his promise.
Abraham was convinced that God had the ability to keep his promises even in the face of death. And we can have that same confidence too.
"By faith, Isaac invoked future blessings on Jacob and Esau. By faith, Jacob, when dying, blessed each of the sons of Joseph, bowing in worship over the head of his staff." (Hebrews 11:20–21)
After reading Abraham's story—a man willing to sacrifice his son—blessing your children doesn't sound particularly dramatic. But I think that's exactly the point. None of the men in this passage are primarily commended because of their achievements, but because of their decision to trust God's future promise.
Isaac and Jacob haven't seen the fulfillment of God's promises. The nation God promised is still just one family. They don't own the land God promised. They haven't seen kings or the blessings to the nations. From a worldly perspective, they could easily conclude: God, your promises have failed.
Yet as they die, what are they doing? Their focus isn't fixed on the past, but they're praying about the future God has promised. Isaac blesses Jacob because he believes God's covenant promises will continue through him. Jacob blesses Joseph's sons because he believes God will do exactly what He has said, even though he will not live to see it.
Like Abraham, their faith is not centered on their own circumstances. They're not asking: Will God give me everything I wanted? They're asking: Will God keep his promises long after I'm gone?
I'm way too often tempted to judge God's faithfulness by asking: Well, God, have you made my life like I hoped? God, I'll trust you're faithful enough when you give me enough money to buy a house. God, I'll trust you're faithful enough when you finally make me feel happy and secure when you answer that prayer I've been praying for years.
But the Bible lifts our eyes so much higher than that. Isaac and Jacob died without seeing God's promises fulfilled, but they died completely confident that God would fulfill them anyway.
The decision to have faith isn't saying: "God, I'll trust you when I see the results, or I'll trust you if you do this one thing for me." Faith says: "I'll trust God because He's trustworthy, even if the promise comes true long after I'm gone."
There will be times when obedience does not seem to pay off in this life. We may never get recognition for doing the right thing. We may never see the fruit of our ministry. Parents may pray faithfully for children who still aren't following Christ. Grandparents may die without seeing the next generation walking with the Lord. From the world's perspective, that looks like failure.
But Hebrews says that's not failure at all. Faith decides to believe in God's promises even if we don't live long enough to see the ending. Our faith has never been in seeing everything now. Our faith has always been that God will be true to his promises.
"By faith Joseph, at the end of his life, made mention of the Exodus of the Israelites and gave directions concerning his bones." (Hebrews 11:22)
At first, this might seem like a strange thing to include. Joseph gets 13 chapters in Genesis—he's the star of "Joseph and the Technicolor Dreamcoat." If you're writing about Joseph's example of faith, you might expect him to be commended for his wisdom, his leadership, the way he saved an entire nation, or the way he forgave his brothers.
But it doesn't. The writer points us to Joseph's dying request about his bones. Hebrews isn't interested primarily in Joseph's achievements. It's interested in Joseph's faith.
After being sold into slavery by his brothers, falsely accused and imprisoned, God wonderfully raised him up in Egypt to become second only to Pharaoh. He had wealth, influence, security, and comfort. Egypt had become his home. If anyone could sit back and think, "I've made it. This is enough. I'm clinging onto Egypt," it's Joseph.
Yet at the very end of his life, his thoughts weren't fixed on Egypt, but on God's promised land.
These were Joseph's words as he was about to die:
"God will visit you and bring you up out of this land to the land he swore to Abraham, to Isaac, and to Jacob." (Genesis 50)
Joseph knew he would die before that happened. He knew he would never personally walk in the promised land. From another perspective, Joseph missed out too. He had seen God bless him beyond anything anyone could have imagined. But he would never receive the full fulfillment of God's covenant promises in his lifetime.
Yet he was content to miss out for now. Because Joseph believed that God's promise was worth more than his present circumstances.
Imagine if I went downstairs at a nice hotel and said to the receptionist: "Excuse me, Mr. Reception. I'd like to buy room 52, please. It's going to be my home. I'm going to live there forever." It's ridiculous. It's a hotel. It's not my home. I'm just passing through.
Joseph said: Egypt is not my home. I'm just passing through. Don't bury my bones here. This is not my home. I'm just passing through. Joseph says: Do not mistake present comfort for God's final promise.
Joseph could enjoy Egypt without believing that Egypt was home.
That's been a real struggle for me since starting here in the city. I've really struggled and had to think hard. What does it look like to handle relative success, money, and culture? For some of us, it might mean saying no to things that culture says we can't afford to miss: a promotion that compromises your integrity, a relationship, more money, particular lifestyles.
It's good to enjoy these things. But I find myself way too often thinking: "Yeah, this is what life is all about," forgetting there's a far, far better country that awaits me. Like Joseph, I need to remind myself that I too am waiting for a better country.
Joseph was willing to miss out now because he knew that God's promises were worth waiting for.
So, how can we have faith when it means missing out now? Remember what you're missing out for.
Abraham was willing to miss out clinging onto Isaac. Isaac and Jacob missed out on seeing the fulfillment. Joseph didn't cling onto Egypt and missed out on seeing the promised land. From the world's perspective, they all missed out.
But from heaven's perspective, they lost nothing of lasting value at all. They gained something so, so much better. Death was not the end for them. It was not the end of God's promises. And they were looking beyond what they could receive in this lifetime, trusting that God's promises stretch long after the grave.
Ultimately, all these examples point us to Jesus, don't they?
But nobody missed out more than Him. He had the glory of heaven, surrounded by worship, yet He left that to take on our humanity, to endure rejection, to be mocked, to be spat at, to be despised, to endure the agony of the cross.
Why? Because He trusted the Father's promise. And because He decided that sinful people like me and you were worth missing out for. He gave up everything to secure God's promise of rescue from sin and death.
J.C. Ryle put it like this: "When we look back on the journey of life and see as we have been seen, we will marvel how we made so much of our cross and thought so little of our crown."
Faith doesn't pretend the cost to miss out isn't real. Abraham knew the cost. Isaac, Jacob, Joseph knew the cost. Jesus knows the cost.
But the choice of faith that looks beyond missing out today to tomorrow's promise is trusting that God's promise is far, far better than what your obedience may cost or whatever the world may offer you today.
So when following Jesus means asking, "What am I missing out?" also ask: "What am I missing out for?"
Treasure God's promise. Trust God's timing. Delight in God's future.
