The Halfway House of Obedience Text: Genesis 11:27-32
Introduction: The Hinge of Redemptive History
We come now to one of the most significant turning points in all of Scripture. The first eleven chapters of Genesis have been a story of cosmic scope, but also a story of repeated, spiraling failure. We have seen the fall in the garden, the first murder, the corruption that led to the flood, and the arrogant rebellion at the Tower of Babel. At Babel, God scattered the nations in judgment, confusing their language and frustrating their God-defying attempt at unity. The story of humanity, left to its own devices, is a story of disintegration. It is a story of moving away from God, away from each other, and away from the garden.
If the story ended there, it would be a tragedy. But God is not a passive observer of human rebellion. He is a sovereign actor. And so, in the middle of a dusty genealogy, in a seemingly unremarkable list of names from a pagan city, God begins His great counter-offensive. The scattering of Babel is now going to be answered by the gathering of a new people. God is going to narrow His focus from the whole of humanity to one man, and through that one man, He is going to bring blessing to the entire world. This is the hinge on which the door of redemptive history turns. What we are reading here is not just an ancient family tree; it is the announcement of God’s strategy to save the world. It is the beginning of the story of Israel, the story of the Messiah, the story of the Church. It is the beginning of our story.
This passage introduces us to the family of Abram. And what we find is not a family of spiritual giants, but a broken, pagan family marked by death, idolatry, and barrenness. And this is precisely the point. God does not begin His great work of salvation by finding the most qualified, the most righteous, or the most capable people. He begins with the impossible, so that all the glory will go to Him. He chooses a pagan to be the father of the faithful. He chooses a barren woman to be the mother of a multitude. He chooses a dead situation to bring forth resurrection life. This is the grace of God, and it is on full display in this quiet, unassuming text.
The Text
Now these are the generations of Terah. Terah became the father of Abram, Nahor, and Haran; and Haran became the father of Lot. And Haran died in the presence of Terah his father in the land of his birth, in Ur of the Chaldeans. Abram and Nahor took wives for themselves. The name of Abram’s wife was Sarai; and the name of Nahor’s wife was Milcah, the daughter of Haran, the father of Milcah and the father of Iscah. And Sarai was barren; she had no child. And Terah took Abram his son, and Lot the son of Haran, his grandson, and Sarai his daughter-in-law, his son Abram’s wife; and they went out together from Ur of the Chaldeans in order to go to the land of Canaan; and they came as far as Haran and settled there. And the days of Terah were 205 years; and Terah died in Haran.
(Genesis 11:27-32 LSB)
A Broken Family from a Pagan City (v. 27-29)
The narrative begins with the standard formula for a new section in Genesis:
"Now these are the generations of Terah. Terah became the father of Abram, Nahor, and Haran; and Haran became the father of Lot. And Haran died in the presence of Terah his father in the land of his birth, in Ur of the Chaldeans." (Genesis 11:27-28)
This is the "toledot" of Terah, the history of his family line. But right away, the story is marked by tragedy. Haran, one of Terah's sons, dies young. He dies "in the presence of Terah his father," a poignant phrase indicating the deep sorrow of a father outliving his son. And he dies in "Ur of the Chaldeans." We must not romanticize this place. Joshua 24:2 tells us plainly that Terah's family "served other gods." Ur was a major center for the worship of the moon god, Nanna. This is the environment that shaped Abram. He was not a monotheist looking for the true God; he was a pagan, steeped in the idolatry of his culture. God's call to Abram is an act of pure, unadulterated grace. God did not find a diamond in the rough; He found a rock in a pagan quarry and determined to make it a diamond.
The death of Haran also introduces Lot into the immediate story. Lot is now a fatherless nephew, and he will attach himself to Abram, for good and for ill. This early tragedy sets a tone. The path of faith is not a path free from suffering and loss. It is a pilgrimage through a fallen world, and death is a present reality.
"Abram and Nahor took wives for themselves. The name of Abram’s wife was Sarai; and the name of Nahor’s wife was Milcah, the daughter of Haran, the father of Milcah and the father of Iscah." (Genesis 11:29)
We see here the tight-knit, clannish nature of the family. Nahor marries his niece, Milcah, the daughter of his deceased brother Haran. But the focus immediately narrows to Abram and his wife, Sarai. She is introduced, and her name will become central to the entire story of the covenant. God's plan is not an abstract philosophical system; it works through real people, real marriages, and real families.
The Impossible Obstacle (v. 30)
And then, in verse 30, we are given the central problem of the entire patriarchal narrative. It is stated with brutal, stark simplicity.
"And Sarai was barren; she had no child." (Genesis 11:30)
This is not a minor detail. This is the theological equivalent of a mountain being placed directly in the path of God's promise. God is about to promise this man that he will become a great nation, that his descendants will be as numerous as the stars in the sky. And the instrument through which this promise must be fulfilled is a barren womb. The Hebrew is emphatic. It is as if to say, "And Sarai was barren, she was utterly without child."
Why does God do this? He does it to demonstrate from the very beginning that this entire project of redemption is His work, and His alone. It is not a collaboration. It is not a partnership where man brings his potential and God adds a little blessing. No. Man brings his emptiness, his inability, his death, and God brings His creative, life-giving power. The promise will not be born of human strength, but of divine grace. The hero of this story is not Abram's faith, but the God who is faithful. The barrenness of Sarai is a picture of our spiritual condition. We are barren, unable to produce any righteousness of our own. We are spiritually dead. And just as God brought life from Sarai's dead womb, He brings spiritual life out of our dead hearts. It is a work of resurrection.
The Compromised Journey (v. 31)
The next verse describes the beginning of the journey, but it is a journey that stalls out.
"And Terah took Abram his son, and Lot the son of Haran, his grandson, and Sarai his daughter-in-law, his son Abram’s wife; and they went out together from Ur of the Chaldeans in order to go to the land of Canaan; and they came as far as Haran and settled there." (Genesis 11:31)
On the surface, it appears that Terah is the one leading this expedition. But we have inspired commentary on this event in the New Testament. In Acts 7:2-4, Stephen, filled with the Holy Spirit, tells us that "The God of glory appeared to our father Abraham when he was in Mesopotamia, before he lived in Haran, and said to him, 'Go out from your country and from your relatives, and come to the land that I will show you.'"
So, the call came to Abram while he was still in Ur. The initial impetus was God's command to Abram. But what we see here is a compromised, half-hearted obedience. Terah, the pagan patriarch, comes along and seems to take charge. They have the right destination in mind: "in order to go to the land of Canaan." But they do not get there. They stop halfway. They come to a city named Haran, a place with the same name as the deceased son, and they settle. They get comfortable.
Haran is the great danger for every Christian. It is the halfway house of obedience. It is leaving the gross idolatry of Ur but refusing to press on into the full, radical obedience of Canaan. It is the place of spiritual procrastination. It is being content with a little bit of religion, a little bit of change, but refusing to surrender everything to the call of God. Many Christians are living in Haran. They have been called to Canaan, but they have settled for comfort and compromise. They have started the journey but have not finished it.
The Death of the Old Way (v. 32)
The section concludes with a simple, solemn statement.
"And the days of Terah were 205 years; and Terah died in Haran." (Genesis 11:32)
Terah's story ends in the place of compromise. He never saw the promised land. His journey of faith, if we can call it that, fizzled out halfway. And this is a profound spiritual principle. Abram could not fully step into the promises of God until Terah was dead. The old life, the old allegiances, the old patriarch of the pagan family had to be in the grave before the new life in Canaan could truly begin. The call of God on Abram's life required a funeral.
For us, the application is direct. We cannot enter the promised land of fellowship with Christ while holding onto the hand of our old master. The old man must be crucified. We must die to the world, die to our compromised affections, die to our self-led spirituality. We cannot serve two masters. You cannot settle in Haran and inherit Canaan at the same time. Terah's death was the event that liberated Abram to finally obey God fully. And so it is with us. We are called to reckon ourselves dead to sin, and alive to God in Christ Jesus. We must leave Haran behind.
Conclusion: From Barrenness to Blessing
This short passage sets the stage for everything that is to follow. It shows us the raw materials God chose to work with: a pagan family, a tragic death, a barren womb, and a compromised journey. And out of this mess, God will bring forth a people, a savior, and salvation for the world.
The central problem is the barrenness of Sarai. The central temptation is the comfort of Haran. The central solution is the sovereign, gracious call of God that comes in the next chapter. God's call to Abram is a call out of Ur, and it is a call past Haran. It is a call to a land he has never seen, based on a promise that seems utterly impossible.
This is the same call that comes to us in the gospel. We are called out of the paganism of this world (Ur). We are warned not to settle for a comfortable, halfway Christianity (Haran). We are called to trust in a promise that seems impossible to our natural minds: that the death of one man, two thousand years ago, can wash away our sins and give us eternal life. We are called to believe that God can bring life out of our own spiritual barrenness.
The story of Abram begins with a funeral in Haran, and it proceeds on the basis of a barren womb. But it ends with a multitude of nations being blessed. This is our God. He specializes in impossible situations. He is the God of the empty tomb. He is the one who calls things that are not as though they were. And He is the one who calls us, today, to leave our Haran behind and to walk with Him all the way into the promised land.