Lessons from Abraham’s Journey with God

In the midst of our busy schedules, it’s easy to let time slip away without reflecting on where we’ve been—and more importantly, where we’re going in our relationship with the Father.

This past week, a prayer request came in for a young man seeking the right partner. It’s a beautiful and important request. But it reminded me of a deeper truth: finding the right person is only half the equation. Becoming the right person is even more critical. This principle doesn’t just apply to marriage—it applies to every aspect of our spiritual walk. We cannot expect to find intimacy with God if we are not actively becoming people prepared for it.

In our Torah portion this week, Vayera (Genesis 18–22), we see a powerful pattern in Abraham’s life—a pattern of growing intimacy with Yahweh. And because we are Abraham’s seed (Galatians 3:29), his journey is our journey. If we are in Christ, we are called to walk as Abraham walked (John 8:39). That means our spiritual growth should mirror his: progressive, visible, and marked by deeper encounters with God. It also means we must be willing to examine ourselves honestly and ask whether our lives reflect the same trajectory of growth.

Three Appearances, Three Stages of Growth

In Genesis, we see the Lord appear to Abraham three times. Each appearance is more intimate than the last. This is not accidental—it reveals something profound about how God relates to those who walk with Him over time.

The First Appearance: Genesis 12:7
Abram has just left Ur of the Chaldees. He has traveled through the land of Canaan, built an altar between Shechem and Ai, and is beginning his journey of faith. The Lord appears to him and says, “To your seed I will give this land.” It’s a brief encounter—a promise and a presence. Abram builds an altar to memorialize the moment. He doesn’t offer a sacrifice; he builds a stone reminder. This is what Shabbat does for us—it creates space to remember what Yahweh has done throughout the week. The first appearance is foundational. It’s the beginning of a relationship, but it’s not yet the deep friendship that will come later.

The Second Appearance: Genesis 17:1
Thirteen years pass between chapters 16 and 17. Thirteen years of silence. No commentary. No recorded encounters. Where did the time go? This is a question we must ask ourselves regularly. Have we grown? Have we changed? Or have we simply existed, going through the motions—eating, sleeping, working, repeating—without any spiritual progression?

When the Lord finally appears again, Abram is 99 years old. This time, the encounter is deeper. God doesn’t just repeat the promise; He expands it. He changes Abram’s name to Abraham. He introduces circumcision as a sign of the covenant. He gives more detail, more revelation, more of Himself. The silence was not abandonment—it was preparation. But it required Abraham to remain faithful during the years when nothing seemed to be happening.

The Third Appearance: Genesis 18:1
Now we come to this week’s portion. The chapter opens with a grammatical oddity in Hebrew. Normally, a sentence begins with a noun—the subject. But here, it begins with a verb: Vayera—”And He appeared.” The focus is on the action itself. The Lord appears, but this time He doesn’t just come and go. He brings three messengers. He sits with Abraham. He eats with him. He shares His plans regarding Sodom. Abraham walks with two of the angels toward the city, and the Lord remains with him, speaking as a friend speaks to a friend.

The progression is unmistakable: from brief encounter, to covenantal expansion, to intimate fellowship. Each appearance is longer, deeper, and more personal than the last.

This is the pattern of true spiritual growth. The question we must ask ourselves is simple but penetrating: Is my time with God growing in depth and quality? Am I more in tune with Him than I was a year ago? Five years ago? Ten years ago? Or have I plateaued—or worse, drifted?

Recognizing His Appearances Today

Now, most of us have never seen a visible manifestation of the Lord. That’s not typically how He appears to us. But He does appear—through His Word, through His Spirit, through circumstances, and through His people. The key is whether we have eyes to see.

In Genesis 18, the Lord appeared through three men. Abraham didn’t immediately recognize them as divine messengers, but he responded with hospitality and humility. He ran to meet them. He bowed low. He offered his best. And in doing so, he entertained the Lord Himself.

This challenges us: Are we recognizing Yahweh’s presence when He sends people into our lives? Are we ready to welcome them? Are we living out Matthew 25, where Yeshua separates the sheep from the goats based on how they treated the hungry, the thirsty, the stranger, the naked, the sick, and the imprisoned? When we serve others, we serve Him. When we welcome others, we welcome Him.

But this requires prioritization. Years ago, I learned a painful lesson. I was so busy with ministry—television, teaching, reaching millions—that I neglected my own family. My head grew bigger, but my heart grew colder toward those closest to me. The priority must always be: honey bunny first, children second, extended family third, and then overflow to others. If we get that order wrong, everything falls apart. Lot sat in the gate of Sodom—he was important, wealthy, and influential—but he lost his family because he didn’t prioritize what mattered most. His testimony crumbled from the inside out.

The Strange Case of Abimelech’s Righteousness

Now we come to one of the most puzzling passages in all of Scripture: Genesis 20. After all the intimacy Abraham has experienced, after all the promises and covenants, he does something that seems utterly out of character. He journeys to Gerar and tells King Abimelech that Sarah is his sister. Abimelech, acting in what he believes is good faith, takes her into his household.

But God intervenes. He appears to Abimelech in a dream and says, “You’re a dead man for the woman you’ve taken—she’s a married woman.”

Abimelech protests, “Lord, will You slay a righteous nation? Didn’t he say, ‘She’s my sister’? And she herself said, ‘He’s my brother.’ In the integrity of my heart and innocence of my hands, I’ve done this.”

And here’s where it gets fascinating. God agrees. He says, “Yes, I know you did this in the integrity of your heart. I also kept you from sinning against Me. Therefore, restore the man’s wife—he’s a prophet, and he will pray for you, and you will live.”

Wait—Abimelech is righteous? He acted with integrity? According to God’s own testimony, yes. In this instance, Abimelech did what was right. He listened to God. He didn’t touch Sarah. He rose early the next morning and told his servants everything, and they were afraid. That’s leadership.

But then Abimelech confronts Abraham: “What have you done to us? What did I do to deserve this? You’ve brought great sin on my kingdom. You did things that should not be done.”

Now we must ask: Who is righteous here? Abimelech, who acted with integrity? Or Abraham, the prophet, who lied out of fear?

Abraham’s answer is revealing: “I thought, surely the fear of God is not in this place. They will kill me for my wife’s sake. Besides, she really is my sister—my father’s daughter but not my mother’s. So I told her, ‘Everywhere we go, say of me, “He is my brother.”‘”

Abraham scanned the horizon, looked at the culture, and concluded, “The fear of God is not here.” And based on that assessment, he operated in self-preservation. He protected himself at the expense of his wife—and at the expense of an entire nation.

Two Kinds of Righteousness

This story forces us to confront a critical distinction. Abimelech performed a righteous act. He acted with integrity in this specific situation. But performing righteous acts does not make a person righteous before God. Righteousness is not the sum of our good deeds. It’s a condition of the heart rooted in a covenant relationship.

Despite his failure, Abraham remained the prophet. He remained the one through whom blessing would flow. Why? Because his righteousness was not based on his performance—it was based on God’s calling and his ongoing relationship with Yahweh. He was not perfect, but he was persistent. He stumbled, but he got back up. He failed, but he kept walking.

This is a crucial lesson for all of us—especially for that young man in Kansas City praying for the right spouse. Are you looking for a righteous woman, or just a “hottie”? Are you seeking someone who fears God, or someone who simply looks good on the outside? And more importantly, are you becoming the kind of person who dwells in the fear of God? Because if you’re not, you won’t recognize it when you see it—and you won’t attract it either.

The Covering of the Eyes

After Abraham explains himself, Abimelech does something remarkable. He gives Abraham sheep, oxen, servants, and land. He says, “Dwell wherever you want.” Then he turns to Sarah and says, “Behold, I’ve given your brother a thousand pieces of silver. He is to you a covering of the eyes to all who are with you and to all others. Thus, she was reproved.”

What does this mean? Abimelech, a pagan king, is essentially saying to Sarah: “Don’t be upset with your husband. He is your covering. He protects you. Yes, he failed here, but that’s his role. Honor it.”

It’s a strange rebuke—but it’s also a profound truth. Husbands are called to be a covering for their wives. Not a suffocating blanket, but a protective shelter. Wives are called to honor that covering, even when it’s imperfect. And both are called to walk in the fear of God, not in the fear of man.

Prayer Out of Need

The chapter concludes with Abraham praying for Abimelech and his household. And God heals them—opening wombs that He had closed because of what happened with Sarah.

Here’s the lesson I shared on Monday night, and it’s worth repeating: Identify your needs. Then find someone else with similar needs and pray for them. Minister to them. Care for them. Take your focus off yourself and put it on others. And when you give and pray out of your own need, God answers your prayers.

That’s exactly what happens here. Abraham needs a son. So he prays for Abimelech’s household to bear children. And what happens next? Genesis 21 opens with the Lord visiting Sarah and giving her a son—Isaac, the child of laughter.

The principle is timeless: The liberal soul shall be made fat. He who waters shall be watered. If you want your needs met, meet someone else’s. If you want intimacy with God, pour into others. If you want to be righteous, stop trying to earn it and start abiding in the One who makes you righteous.

A Final Challenge

So tonight, I want to leave you with some honest questions—questions worth writing down, worth pondering before the Lord:

• Is the Lord appearing to you? If so, are you recognizing Him?
• How is He appearing—through His Word? Through people? Through circumstances?
• Is your time with Him growing in depth and intimacy?
• Can others see the evidence of His presence in your life?
• Do people who haven’t seen you in six months notice a change? Are you wiser, more loving, more compassionate, more like Abraham than ever before?
• Are you acting out of fear or faith?
• Are you prioritizing your relationships correctly—God first, then family, then others?
• Are you praying for others out of your own needs, trusting that as you water them, you will be watered?

Abraham’s journey was not a straight line. It had ups and downs, successes and failures. But through it all, he kept walking. He kept trusting. He kept growing. And so must we.

As you prepare for Shabbat, take time to reflect. Ask the Father to show you where you’ve grown—and where you still need to grow. Ask Him to appear to you in new and intimate ways. And ask Him to make you the kind of person—righteous, faithful, covered and covering—who can truly bless others.

May He appear to you. May you recognize His presence. And may your life bear fruit that remains.

Shabbat Shalom.

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