How a Guy Who Lied About His Wife Twice, Fathered a Child With His Servant, and Almost Killed His Son Became the Father of Faith
Let me tell you about Abraham, a man who heard a voice tell him to leave everything he knew, and—at age 75—he actually did it.
No GPS. No map. No detailed plan. Just: “Go to the land I will show you.”
And he went.
This guy left his country, his people, his father’s household, and everything familiar based on a promise from a God he barely knew about descendants he didn’t have in a land he’d never seen.
And then he spent the next 100 years making spectacular mistakes while somehow still being called “the father of faith.”
He lied about his wife being his sister (twice!) and let other men take her to avoid being killed. He had a child with his wife’s servant because he got impatient waiting for God’s promise. He doubted, schemed, panicked, and made terrible decisions repeatedly.
And yet God kept working with him. Kept calling him. Kept making promises to him. Kept using him despite his failures.
Abraham’s story is about:
- Leaving the familiar for the unknown
- Living between the promise and its fulfillment
- The tension between faith and doubt, trust and control
- Making huge mistakes and continuing anyway
- Starting over at an age when most people are retiring
- The long, slow journey of transformation
- Being called “faithful” despite repeated failures
This isn’t a story about someone who got it right the first time. This is a story about someone who kept going despite getting it wrong repeatedly. Someone who had faith AND doubt. Who trusted God AND schemed for backup plans. Who believed the promise AND tried to make it happen himself.
In other words, Abraham is every person in recovery: called to leave the familiar, promised a better future, struggling to trust the process, making mistakes along the way, and somehow—despite everything—still moving forward toward the promise.
So buckle up, because we’re about to explore how a 75-year-old who left home based on a voice, lied his way through two countries, had a baby with the wrong woman, and almost sacrificed his son can teach us everything about faith, failure, patience, and why God uses broken people to accomplish His purposes.
“Leave Your Country” (When God Asks You to Abandon Everything Familiar)
Abraham’s story starts with the most terrifying invitation in Scripture:
“The Lord had said to Abram, ‘Go from your country, your people and your father’s household to the land I will show you.'”
Let’s break down what God is asking:
“Leave your country” – Your citizenship, your identity, your sense of belonging to a nation
“Leave your people” – Your community, your social network, your cultural identity
“Leave your father’s household” – Your family system, your support structure, your inheritance
Leave EVERYTHING. Everything familiar. Everything comfortable. Everything you’ve built your identity around.
And go WHERE?
“To the land I will show you.”
Translation: “I’m not telling you where. You’ll find out when you get there. Just start walking.”
No GPS coordinates. No address. No map. No timeline. Just: “Go, and I’ll show you.”
This is the most insane request. “Abandon everything based on my voice and trust that I’ll guide you to somewhere I’m not specifying.”
And Abraham is SEVENTY-FIVE YEARS OLD when this happens.
Not 25, when you’re young and adventurous and have nothing to lose. Not 40, when you’re in your prime and can rebuild if it fails. SEVENTY-FIVE. When most people are settling into retirement, thinking about their legacy, holding onto what they’ve built.
And God says: “Leave it all. Start over. Based on my voice.”
This is recovery: leaving the familiar addiction even though it’s been your comfort, your identity, your community. Leaving the toxic family system even though it’s all you’ve known. Leaving the job, the relationship, the city, the lifestyle that’s killing you—and trusting that there’s something better even though you can’t see it yet.
“Go to the land I will show you” means: “Trust the process even though you don’t know the destination. Start walking even though you can’t see the end. Leave what’s familiar even though what’s next is unknown.”
And here’s what makes Abraham remarkable: he goes.
“So Abram went, as the Lord had told him.”
No recorded argument. No “but God, I’m 75, this is crazy.” No “can I at least get some details?” Just: “So Abram went.”
He takes his wife Sarai, his nephew Lot, all their possessions, and everyone in his household, and he leaves.
At 75.
For an unknown destination.
Based on a promise he hasn’t seen fulfilled yet.
This is faith: going when you don’t know where, leaving when you don’t know what’s next, trusting when you can’t see the outcome.
In recovery, this is:
- Leaving the substance even though you don’t know how you’ll cope without it
- Ending the toxic relationship even though you don’t know who you’ll be without them
- Quitting the job that’s destroying you even though you don’t have another one lined up
- Moving away from the environment that enables you even though you don’t know where you’ll belong
- Starting over even though you’re “too old” or “too far gone” or “too broken”
Abraham was 75 and he started over. You’re not too old. You’re not too far gone. You’re not too broken.
If God can call a 75-year-old to leave everything and start over, He can call you at whatever age you are.
The question isn’t whether you’re young enough or strong enough or ready enough.
The question is: will you go when you don’t know where?
Lesson one: You’re never too old to start over. Faith means going when you don’t know where. Leave the familiar even when the future is unknow
“I Will Make You a Great Nation” (When the Promise Requires What You Don’t Have)
God makes Abraham a promise:
“I will make you into a great nation, and I will bless you; I will make your name great, and you will be a blessing. I will bless those who bless you, and whoever curses you I will curse; and all peoples on earth will be blessed through you.”
This is a MASSIVE promise. Descendants like the stars. A great nation. Blessing to all peoples. Your name becoming great.
There’s just one problem: Abraham and Sarah have no children. And Sarah is barren.
“I will make you into a great nation” is being promised to a childless 75-year-old man married to a barren woman.
The promise requires the exact thing they don’t have and can’t produce on their own.
This is God’s pattern: He promises what requires the impossible. What demands His intervention. What can’t be achieved through human effort alone.
He promises descendants to the barren. Kingdom to the exiles. Resurrection to the dead. Recovery to the addicted.
The promise always requires what you don’t have. What you can’t manufacture. What only God can provide.
In recovery, the promise is:
- Freedom (when you’re in bondage)
- Healing (when you’re broken)
- Restoration (when everything’s destroyed)
- New life (when you feel dead inside)
- Transformation (when change seems impossible)
And none of these can be achieved through willpower alone. None can be manufactured through human effort. All require intervention beyond yourself.
Abraham is promised a nation he can’t produce. You’re promised recovery you can’t achieve alone. The promise always requires impossibility.
But here’s the thing about Abraham: he believes it.
“Abram believed the Lord, and he credited it to him as righteousness.”
Abraham believes the impossible promise. And God counts it as righteousness—not because Abraham is perfect, not because Abraham never doubts, but because in that moment, he believes.
This is the faith that saves: believing the impossible promise. Trusting that God can do what you cannot. Accepting that recovery requires divine intervention, not just human willpower.
But believing the promise doesn’t mean the wait is easy. Abraham believed—and then waited 25 YEARS for the promise to be fulfilled.
Twenty-five years between promise and fulfillment. Between hearing “I will give you a son” and actually holding Isaac.
And in those 25 years? Abraham makes some spectacular mistakes.
Lesson two: The promise always requires what you don’t have. Believe the impossible anyway. But believing doesn’t eliminate the waiting—or the mistakes you’ll make while waiting.
“She’s My Sister” (When Fear Makes You Lie and Pimp Out Your Wife)
Abraham arrives in Egypt during a famine. And he’s afraid.
Sarah is beautiful. Abraham thinks the Egyptians will kill him to take her. So he comes up with a plan:
“Say you are my sister, so that I will be treated well for your sake and my life will be spared because of you.”
Let’s be clear about what’s happening: Abraham is asking Sarah to lie about their relationship so that other men will think she’s available. He’s willing to let Pharaoh take her as a wife (which means sexually) to save his own skin.
This is the “father of faith” pimping out his wife to save himself.
And it works! Sort of. Pharaoh takes Sarah into his palace. Gives Abraham sheep and cattle and donkeys and servants. Abraham is treated well “because of her.”
Abraham is profiting from giving his wife to another man.
But then God intervenes. He afflicts Pharaoh’s household with diseases. Pharaoh figures out what’s happening, calls Abraham in, and says:
“What have you done to me? Why didn’t you tell me she was your wife? Why did you say, ‘She is my sister,’ so that I took her to be my wife? Now then, here is your wife. Take her and go!”
Pharaoh—the PAGAN king—is more righteous than Abraham in this story. He’s horrified that he was deceived into taking another man’s wife. He sends them away.
And here’s the kicker: Abraham does this AGAIN. Later. In Gerar. Same scheme. Different king. “She’s my sister, not my wife.”
Twice. The father of faith uses the same cowardly lie twice.
What does this teach us about recovery?
First: Fear makes you do stupid, destructive things.
Abraham was afraid for his life, so he sacrificed his wife’s safety and dignity. Fear overrode faith. Panic overrode promise. Self-preservation overrode integrity.
In recovery: Fear of discomfort makes you relapse. Fear of being alone makes you stay in toxic relationships. Fear of financial insecurity makes you stay in jobs that destroy you. Fear of rejection makes you lie.
Fear is a terrible decision-maker.
Second: Even people of faith make terrible choices.
Abraham believed God’s promise. Abraham left everything at 75 to follow God. Abraham is later called “the father of faith.”
And Abraham still lied, schemed, pimped out his wife, and prioritized self-preservation over trust in God’s protection.
Faith doesn’t mean you never make terrible choices. It means you keep going even after you do.
Third: God protects the promise even when you’re actively sabotaging it.
If Sarah is taken into Pharaoh’s harem and has Pharaoh’s child, the promise of descendants through Sarah is ruined. Abraham’s cowardice is about to destroy God’s plan.
But God intervenes. Afflicts Pharaoh’s household. Gets Sarah returned. Protects the promise despite Abraham’s failure.
In recovery: You will sabotage yourself. You will make terrible choices. You will act out of fear instead of faith. You will scheme instead of trust.
And God will protect the promise anyway. Not because you deserve it. Not because you earned it. But because the promise isn’t about your perfection—it’s about God’s faithfulness.
Fourth: You can be called “faithful” and still be a coward.
Abraham is called the father of faith. But he was also a coward who threw his wife under the bus to save himself. Twice.
You can be “in recovery” and still make terrible choices. You can be growing and still be broken. You can be faithful overall and still fail spectacularly in moments.
Lesson three: Fear makes you do destructive things. People of faith still make terrible choices. God protects the promise even when you sabotage it. And you can be faithful overall while failing spectacularly in moments.
Hagar and Ishmael (When You Try to Help God Keep His Promise)
Ten years after the promise. Still no child. Sarah is still barren. Abraham is now 85.
And Sarah comes up with a plan:
“The Lord has kept me from having children. Go, sleep with my slave; perhaps I can build a family through her.”
This is Sarah saying: “God’s promise isn’t happening fast enough. Let’s help Him out. Take my servant Hagar and have a child with her. That can be our heir.”
And Abraham agrees. “Abram agreed to what Sarai said.”
No recorded prayer. No “let me check with God first.” Just immediate agreement to a plan that completely circumvents how God said the promise would be fulfilled (through SARAH, not through a surrogate).
Abraham sleeps with Hagar. She conceives. She has Ishmael.
And everything falls apart.
Hagar despises Sarah. Sarah blames Abraham. Abraham says “do whatever you want with her.” Sarah mistreats Hagar. Hagar runs away. An angel sends her back. Tension fills the household.
Abraham now has a son—but not the promised son. He has an heir—but not the heir God intended. He has tried to fulfill the promise through human effort, and it’s created chaos.
This is what happens when you try to help God keep His promise:
In recovery, this looks like:
- “God promised healing, but it’s taking too long, so I’ll just manage it with substances”
- “God promised restoration, but I’m impatient, so I’ll force the reconciliation”
- “God promised provision, but I don’t see it, so I’ll compromise my integrity to make money”
- “God promised a partner, but I’m lonely, so I’ll settle for whoever’s available”
- “God promised recovery, but it’s hard, so I’ll find an easier, softer way”
The problem isn’t that Abraham wanted the promise fulfilled. The problem is that he tried to fulfill it through his own effort instead of waiting for God’s timing and method.
Ishmael wasn’t wrong—he was a real child, loved by God, blessed by God. But he wasn’t ISAAC. He wasn’t the child of the promise. He was the child of impatience.
And having Ishmael didn’t eliminate the need for Isaac. It complicated it. Now Abraham has two sons, two mothers, one household full of conflict.
God later clarifies: “It is through Isaac that your offspring will be reckoned.” Not Ishmael. Isaac.
The promise will be fulfilled God’s way, in God’s timing, through the person God specified.
Your attempts to help God keep His promise don’t speed up the process. They create complications that have to be resolved later.
Ishmael becomes a permanent part of Abraham’s story. Hagar and her son are part of the family drama forever. The consequences of trying to help God last for generations.
Years later, when Isaac is finally born and weaned, Sarah demands: “Get rid of that slave woman and her son, for that woman’s son will never share in the inheritance with my son Isaac.”
Abraham is distressed. Ishmael is his son too. He loves him. But God tells him: “Do not be so distressed about the boy and your slave woman. Listen to whatever Sarah tells you, because it is through Isaac that your offspring will be reckoned.”
Abraham has to send Hagar and Ishmael away. It breaks his heart. But it’s the consequence of trying to force the promise.
Lesson four: Trying to help God keep His promise creates complications that last for generations. Wait for God’s timing and method, even when it’s taking longer than you want.
Sodom and Gomorrah (When God Destroys and You Negotiate)
Abraham’s nephew Lot has settled in Sodom, which is about to be destroyed for its wickedness. God tells Abraham His plan.
And Abraham—in one of the boldest conversations in Scripture—negotiates with God:
“Will you sweep away the righteous with the wicked? What if there are fifty righteous people in the city?”
God agrees: “If I find fifty righteous people in Sodom, I will spare the whole place for their sake.”
Abraham keeps negotiating. Forty-five? God agrees. Forty? Yes. Thirty? Okay. Twenty? Sure. Ten?
“For the sake of ten, I will not destroy it.”
Abraham is bargaining with God. Negotiating down from fifty to ten. And God is patient with every request.
This shows something crucial about recovery: You can wrestle with God. You can question. You can negotiate. You can advocate. God doesn’t smite Abraham for his questions—He engages with them.
God doesn’t find ten righteous people in Sodom. He destroys the cities. But He saves Lot (barely—Lot has his own issues and his wife literally looks back and turns into a pillar of salt, which is either a metaphor about not looking back or God really turns people into salt, and either way, it’s a problem).
What does this teach about recovery?
First: Advocate for others, even when they’re in destructive places.
Abraham could have said “Sodom is wicked, they deserve destruction, let them burn.” Instead, he advocated. He negotiated. He tried to save the righteous within the wicked.
In recovery: Advocate for people who are still using. Pray for them. Try to save them. Don’t write them off as “deserving destruction.”
But also—
Second: Some places are too toxic to be saved.
Sodom couldn’t find ten righteous people. The entire system was corrupt. Sometimes the city has to burn. Sometimes the toxic environment can’t be reformed—it has to be abandoned.
In recovery: Some relationships can’t be saved. Some family systems are too dysfunctional. Some jobs are irredeemable. Some environments are so toxic that reform isn’t possible—you have to leave.
Third: Looking back can turn you into salt.
Lot’s wife looked back at Sodom while fleeing and became a pillar of salt. Whether this is literal or metaphorical, the message is clear: don’t look back at what’s being destroyed.
In recovery: Don’t romanticize your addiction. Don’t look back longingly at the toxic relationship. Don’t pine for the job that was killing you. Don’t turn around while fleeing destruction.
What was being destroyed needed to be destroyed. Looking back with longing will paralyze you.
Lesson five: Advocate for people in toxic places, but recognize when places are too toxic to be saved. And don’t look back at what’s being destroyed—it will paralyze you.
The Birth of Isaac (When the Promise Finally Shows Up)
Abraham is 100 years old. Sarah is 90.
And Sarah gets pregnant.
“Now the Lord was gracious to Sarah as he had said, and the Lord did for Sarah what he had promised. Sarah became pregnant and bore a son to Abraham in his old age, at the very time God had promised him.”
TWENTY-FIVE YEARS after the promise. Quarter of a century of waiting. Through lies and schemes and Hagar and Ishmael and famine and war and negotiating over Sodom—the promise finally arrives.
Isaac is born. The child of promise. The son through whom the nation will come.
And Sarah says: “God has brought me laughter, and everyone who hears about this will laugh with me.”
The name Isaac means “he laughs.”
Because the whole thing is kind of ridiculous. A 90-year-old woman having a baby. A 100-year-old man becoming a father. It’s medically impossible. It’s absurd. It’s laugh-out-loud unbelievable.
And that’s exactly the point. The promise required the impossible. The fulfillment is beyond human capability. This is God’s work, not Abraham’s achievement.
In recovery, this is:
- The addict who shouldn’t be alive but celebrates 20 years sober
- The family that was completely destroyed but is now restored
- The person who was “too far gone” but is now thriving
- The relationship that was dead but is now resurrected
- The life that was over but is now beginning again
It’s laugh-out-loud unbelievable. It shouldn’t be possible. But here it is anyway.
The promise finally fulfilled. After decades of waiting. After mistakes and schemes and detours. After giving up hope and trying to do it yourself and watching God protect the promise despite your sabotage.
Here’s Isaac. The laughter. The impossible made possible. The promise kept.
But notice: Isaac’s birth doesn’t erase Ishmael. Both sons exist. Both are loved. Both have consequences that continue.
Your promise fulfilled doesn’t erase your mistakes. Your recovery doesn’t eliminate the consequences of your using. Your restoration doesn’t mean the damage never happened.
Both realities exist: the promise fulfilled AND the consequences of trying to force it yourself.
Isaac and Ishmael. Laughter and complication. Promise and consequence.
Lesson six: The promise will be fulfilled in God’s timing, and it will be so impossible that all you can do is laugh. But fulfillment doesn’t erase the consequences of your attempts to force it.
“Take Your Son, Your Only Son Isaac, Whom You Love” (The Most Horrifying Test in Scripture)
Just when you think things are finally good—Abraham has the promised son, the heir, the fulfillment of everything he’s waited for—God says:
“Take your son, your only son Isaac, whom you love, and go to the region of Moriah. Sacrifice him there as a burnt offering.”
I’m sorry, WHAT?
God is asking Abraham to KILL THE PROMISED SON. The child he waited 25 years for. The impossible baby. The fulfillment of the covenant. The heir through whom the nation will come.
Kill him. As a sacrifice.
This is the most horrifying request in the Bible. It contradicts everything God has promised. It violates everything God has said about Isaac being the heir. It makes no sense.
And Abraham—incomprehensibly—goes.
“Early the next morning Abraham got up and loaded his donkey. He took with him two of his servants and his son Isaac.”
No recorded argument with God. No “but You promised.” No “this makes no sense.” Just obedience.
He travels three days to Moriah. Builds an altar. Binds Isaac. Raises the knife.
And then—only then—God stops him:
“Do not lay a hand on the boy. Do not do anything to him. Now I know that you fear God, because you have not withheld from me your son, your only son.”
God provides a ram caught in a thicket. Abraham sacrifices the ram instead. Isaac lives. The promise continues.
This passage is horrifying and has been used to justify terrible things throughout history, so let’s be very clear about what it does and doesn’t teach about recovery:
This is NOT about God randomly demanding you destroy what you love.
This IS about:
First: Being willing to surrender even the promised thing.
Abraham loved Isaac. Isaac was the fulfillment of God’s promise. Isaac was everything Abraham had waited for.
And God asked: “Are you more attached to the promise or to Me? Is Isaac your functional god or am I your God?”
In recovery: Are you more attached to your recovery than to God? Is sobriety your god or is God your God? Are you worshiping the gift or the Giver?
This is a hard question. Because recovery IS the promise. Sobriety IS the gift. Health IS what God is providing.
But God asks: If I asked you to surrender even this, would you? Is your identity in Me or in your recovery? Is your hope in Me or in your sobriety?
Second: What you surrender to God, He gives back transformed.
Abraham was willing to sacrifice Isaac. God provided a substitute. Isaac lived. The promise continued.
But something changed. Abraham’s relationship with Isaac went through death and resurrection. He was willing to let go, and God gave him back.
In recovery: What you surrender to God—your will, your control, your timeline, your methods—He gives back transformed. You let go of managing your recovery and receive actual recovery. You surrender control and receive freedom.
Third: God provides.
Abraham names the place “The Lord Will Provide.” When Isaac asked where the lamb for the sacrifice was, Abraham said “God himself will provide the lamb.”
And God did. A ram in the thicket. Right when needed. Not before. Not after. Right at the moment of surrender.
In recovery: God provides what you need when you need it. Not when you think you need it. Not according to your timeline. But at the exact moment of need.
When you’re ready to relapse—provision. When you can’t take another day—provision. When you’ve surrendered control—provision.
A ram in the thicket. Right when you need it.
Lesson seven: Be willing to surrender even the promised thing. What you surrender to God, He gives back transformed. And God provides at the exact moment of need—a ram in the thicket.
The Death of Sarah (When Promises Come With Loss)
Sarah dies at age 127. Abraham mourns and weeps for her.
The promise has been fulfilled—Isaac is alive and well. But Sarah doesn’t live to see the full realization of the promise. She sees Isaac grow up, but she doesn’t see the nation that will come from him. She doesn’t see the fulfillment of “descendants like the stars.”
She dies in the middle of the story. Between promise and ultimate fulfillment.
This is a painful reality: sometimes you don’t live to see the full promise. Sometimes you die in the middle of recovery. Sometimes you get sober but you don’t live to see your family fully restored. Sometimes you heal but you don’t see all the consequences resolved.
Abraham buys a cave to bury Sarah—the only land he owns in the Promised Land. After decades of living as a foreigner, the first property he owns is a burial plot.
The land was promised. But the only piece he possesses is a grave.
This is the tension of recovery: You’re promised restoration, but you’re living in the in-between. You’re promised healing, but you’re still dealing with consequences. You’re promised a better future, but the present is still hard.
Sarah died between promise and fulfillment. Abraham owned a grave before he owned a house.
Recovery is living in this tension. Believing the promise while experiencing the loss. Trusting the future while grieving the present.
Lesson eight: You might die before seeing the full promise. The first land you possess might be a burial plot. Recovery is living between promise and ultimate fulfillment.
What Abraham Teaches About the Long Obedience
Abraham’s story spans 100 years. From age 75 when he leaves Haran to age 175 when he dies.
One hundred years of following God. Of promise and waiting. Of faith and failure. Of trusting and scheming. Of surrender and control.
He doesn’t get it right the first time. Or the second. Or the tenth.
He lies about Sarah being his sister. Twice. He has a child with Hagar because he’s impatient. He doubts. He schemes. He makes terrible decisions.
And yet he’s called “the father of faith.”
Not because he was perfect. Not because he never failed. But because he kept going.
This is the long obedience in the same direction. This is recovery: not perfection but persistence. Not getting it right but continuing anyway. Not avoiding mistakes but learning from them and moving forward.
Abraham teaches us:
You can be faithful overall while failing spectacularly in moments. Abraham lied about his wife. Twice. And he’s still the father of faith.
The promise takes longer than you think. Twenty-five years between promise and Isaac. Your recovery timeline is God’s business, not yours.
You’ll try to help God keep His promise, and it will create complications. Ishmael. Hagar. Lasting consequences. Trust God’s method, not just His promise.
Fear will make you do stupid things. Abraham feared for his life and pimped out his wife. Fear is a terrible decision-maker in recovery too.
What you surrender to God, He gives back transformed. Isaac on the altar. Ram in the thicket. Death and resurrection.
You might die before seeing the full promise. Sarah died at 127. Abraham died at 175. Neither saw the nation. But the promise continued anyway.
God protects the promise even when you sabotage it. Pharaoh didn’t destroy Sarah’s ability to have Isaac. Your mistakes don’t destroy God’s plan.
Lesson nine: Recovery is the long obedience in the same direction. It’s not perfection—it’s persistence. Not avoiding failure—it’s continuing despite failure.
What Abraham Would Tell You
If Abraham could sit down and talk to you about recovery, I think he’d say:
“I was 75 when God told me to leave everything. I thought I was too old. I thought it was too late. I thought I’d missed my chance.
But God said go. So I went.
And here’s what I learned in 100 years of following a promise I couldn’t see:
You’re not too old to start over. I was 75 when I left Haran. 100 when Isaac was born. 175 when I died. My entire journey of faith happened in what modern people call ‘retirement years.’
If you think you’re too old, too broken, too far gone—you’re not. Start now. Leave now. Change now.
The promise will take longer than you expect. I waited 25 years for Isaac. Twenty-five years between ‘I will give you descendants’ and holding my son.
Your recovery won’t happen on your timeline. The healing you’re promised will take longer than you want. The restoration you’re hoping for will require patience you don’t have.
Wait anyway. Keep believing anyway. Don’t try to speed it up by doing it yourself.
You’ll make terrible decisions along the way. I lied about Sarah being my sister. Twice. I had a child with my wife’s servant because I got impatient. I tried to help God keep His promise, and it created lasting complications.
You’ll mess up too. You’ll relapse. You’ll lie. You’ll scheme. You’ll try to force the promise.
God will keep working with you anyway. The promise doesn’t depend on your perfection.
Fear is a terrible decision-maker. I was afraid the Egyptians would kill me, so I threw Sarah under the bus. I was afraid I’d never have an heir, so I slept with Hagar.
Fear makes you do things you’ll regret. In recovery, fear of discomfort makes you use. Fear of being alone makes you stay in toxic relationships. Fear of change makes you stay stuck.
Faith is doing it afraid. Faith is going when you don’t know where. Faith is leaving what’s familiar even when you’re terrified.
What you surrender to God, He gives back transformed. I was willing to sacrifice Isaac. God provided a ram. I got Isaac back, but our relationship went through death and resurrection first.
Surrender your recovery to God. Surrender your timeline. Surrender your control. Surrender even the promised thing.
What you surrender, God gives back transformed. But you have to actually let go.
The first land you own might be a grave. I lived in the Promised Land as a foreigner for decades. The first property I owned was a burial plot for Sarah.
Your recovery will include loss. The promise will coexist with grief. The future hope won’t eliminate present pain.
Live in the tension. Believe the promise while experiencing the loss. Trust the future while mourning the present.
You might die before seeing the full promise. Sarah died at 127. I died at 175. Neither of us saw the nation God promised. We saw Isaac, but not Israel.
You might get sober and die before full restoration. You might heal and not live to see all consequences resolved. You might start the journey and not finish it in your lifetime.
That’s okay. The promise continues beyond you. Plant seeds you won’t harvest. Start things you won’t finish. Trust God with the outcomes.
The promise isn’t about your perfection—it’s about God’s faithfulness. I lied. I schemed. I doubted. I made terrible decisions. I tried to help God keep His promise.
And God kept it anyway. Not because I earned it. Not because I deserved it. But because God is faithful even when I’m faithless.
Your recovery doesn’t depend on your perfection. It depends on God’s grace. You’ll mess up. You’ll fail. You’ll doubt.
Keep going anyway. God’s keeping the promise whether you cooperate perfectly or not.
Now leave your country. Go to the land God will show you. Wait for the promise. Make mistakes along the way. Surrender when asked. And trust that a 75-year-old can start over.
I did. At 75. And at 100, I held the promise.
You can too.”
The Father of Faith Was a Beautiful Mess
Abraham is called the father of faith. But he was also a liar, a coward, an adulterer (technically), a schemer, and a man who tried to force God’s promise instead of waiting.
He believed God. And he doubted God. He trusted the promise. And he tried to fulfill it himself. He surrendered Isaac. And he threw Sarah to Pharaoh.
He was faithful and faithless. Trusting and controlling. Obedient and scheming.
In other words, he was human. Broken. Complicated. A mess.
And God called him “faithful” anyway.
Not because he was perfect. Not because he never failed. But because he kept going. Because he left at 75. Because he waited 25 years. Because he believed the impossible. Because he surrendered when asked.
The long obedience in the same direction. Through lies and schemes and detours and mistakes. Through Hagar and Ishmael and Pharaoh and Abimelech. Through famine and war and negotiation and loss.
Abraham kept going. Kept believing. Kept trusting. Kept surrendering.
And at 100, he held the promise. At 175, he died still believing.
Your recovery will look like this. Messy. Complicated. Full of mistakes and detours and schemes and failures.
You’ll try to help God keep His promise. You’ll act out of fear instead of faith. You’ll lie when you should trust. You’ll scheme when you should surrender.
And God will keep working with you anyway. Will keep protecting the promise anyway. Will keep calling you faithful anyway.
Not because you earned it. Not because you deserve it. But because the promise isn’t about your perfection—it’s about God’s faithfulness.
You’re not too old to start over. The promise will take longer than you expect. You’ll make terrible decisions along the way. Fear will make you do stupid things. What you surrender to God, He gives back transformed. You might die before seeing the full promise. And God’s grace covers all of it.
Abraham left everything at 75 based on a voice. Waited 25 years for a son. Surrendered that son when asked. Died believing in descendants he never saw become a nation.
And he’s called the father of faith.
Not because he was perfect. But because he kept going.
So can you.
Leave your country. Go to the land God will show you. Wait for the promise. Make mistakes along the way. Surrender when asked. And trust that God can use a beautiful mess to accomplish His purposes.
Abraham proves it. At 75, at 100, at 175—it’s never too late to start, to believe, to surrender, to trust.
Now go. To the land God will show you. The promise is waiting.
The Takeaways (For Those Who Skipped to the End)
- You’re never too old to start over. Faith means going when you don’t know where.
- The promise always requires what you don’t have. Believe the impossible anyway.
- Fear makes you do destructive things. People of faith still make terrible choices. God protects the promise even when you sabotage it.
- Trying to help God keep His promise creates complications that last for generations. Wait for God’s timing and method.
- Advocate for people in toxic places, but recognize when places are too toxic to be saved. Don’t look back at what’s being destroyed.
- The promise will be fulfilled in God’s timing, and it will be so impossible that all you can do is laugh.
- Be willing to surrender even the promised thing. What you surrender to God, He gives back transformed.
- You might die before seeing the full promise. Recovery is living between promise and ultimate fulfillment.
- Recovery is the long obedience in the same direction. It’s not perfection—it’s persistence.
A Final Word
Abraham was 75 when he started over. 100 when he held the promise. 175 when he died still believing.
One hundred years of faith and failure. Trust and doubt. Surrender and control. Promise and waiting.
He lied. He schemed. He tried to force God’s hand. He made terrible decisions out of fear.
And God called him faithful anyway.
Not because he was perfect. But because he kept going. Because he left when called. Because he believed the impossible. Because he waited for the promise. Because he surrendered when asked.
The long obedience in the same direction. Through mistakes and detours and complications and loss.
That’s recovery. That’s faith. That’s the journey.
You’ll mess up. You’ll doubt. You’ll try to force the promise. You’ll act out of fear instead of trust.
And God will keep working with you anyway. Will keep protecting the promise anyway. Will keep calling you faithful anyway.
Because the promise isn’t about your perfection. It’s about God’s faithfulness.
You’re not too old. It’s not too late. You haven’t gone too far.
Abraham was 75 and he started over. You can too.
Leave your country. Go to the land God will show you. Wait for the promise. Surrender when asked. Trust the process.
The promise is coming. It will take longer than you expect and arrive in ways you can’t predict.
But it’s coming. God is faithful.
Now go. The land is waiting.