Father, we come before you today, inspired by the whispers of courage etched in Hebrews 11:13. We see them walk, these heroes of old, eyes fixed on a city not of earth, but of your promise. Their trust, a compass guiding them through uncharted lands, a torch blazing through doubt’s thickest fog.
Like Abraham, we yearn to hear your call, to step out of comfort’s cradle and embrace the unknown. Grant us the strength of Isaac, the unwavering surrender of Sarah, the steadfast loyalty of Jacob. Let their stories be our map, their struggles our fuel.
We confess, Father, that sometimes the horizon blurs, fear a serpent coiling around our ankles. The weight of longing can feel like stones in our backpacks, the whispers of doubt like thorns pricking our resolve. But in your word, we find solace. “They did not receive what was promised,” it sings, “but saw it from afar and greeted it, and acknowledged that they were strangers and foreigners on the earth.”
Strangers and foreigners, yes, but not forsaken. For in your sight, there are no strangers, only children returning home. Grant us, then, the eyes of Sarah, who saw Isaac in the barren sands, the hope of Rachel, who cradled Joseph in the desert’s embrace. Let us see your promise, Father, even in the dimmest dawn, hear your whisper even in the fiercest storm.
May our lives, like theirs, be a testament to faith unseen, a melody hummed on the wind, a beacon for those who follow. May we, too, become pilgrims of hope, walking towards the city whose foundations you lay, a city built not of brick and mortar, but of your steadfast love, a city we see with the eyes of faith, and claim with the strength of your grace. In Jesus name, Amen.