Abraham, the Father of the Jewish people, had been promised by God that, although his wife was barren, he would have more offspring than stars in the sky. It was through that offspring that God would save his people. God promised. Abraham believed.
Eventually, Abraham’s wife, Sarah, would conceive and have a son whose name was Isaac. The promised one had come and Abraham and Isaac were overjoyed at God’s provision for them, just as he had promised.
But the story took a turn when God asked Abraham to go and sacrifice his son as an offering. In our day, this is astounding, but in a day when child sacrifices were prevalent, it wasn’t the concept that was strange, it was the thought of sacrificing a child of promise, one who was to be the first of many offspring who would eventually result in the saving of a nation, a people, and the world.
The heading in the Bible for this passage simply reads, “Abraham Tested.” It lasts a total of nineteen verses, which hardly seems adequate to convey the depth and gravity of the situation. There is little hesitation on the part of Abraham. His language communicates his hope that he and his son will come out on the other side, unscathed.
No matter how many times that I read the passage, I struggle to put myself in the place of Abraham. To be honest, I struggle to put myself in the place of Isaac either. But what happens when God calls someone to lay down their dreams, their hopes, their future? What happens when the very thing that God promised is the very thing that God asks us to lay down at his feet?
I am very willing to give up certain things in my life, things that seem expendable, things to which I am holding loosely. But what are the things to which I am holding more tightly? What are the “Isaacs” in my life that I am reluctant to let go of?
When we think about all that we must give up in our pursuit of God, it can sometimes feel as if he is a cosmic killjoy, calling people to give up everything. But if we find that mindset dominant within us, we probably need to look towards the end of Abraham’s account. Not only did God spare and preserve Isaac, but he kept his promise.
Did Abraham realize as he trudged up that hill with anxiety weighing heavily on his heart that God had a plan? Was he concocting an escape route in his plan, waiting for the right time to make a break for it and try to outrun God, something Jonah would do hundreds of years later?
I’m looking at the “Isaacs” in my life. I’m trying to figure out just what it is that I’m holding onto so tightly. I’m asking myself, “If I’m holding onto these things so tightly, is it possible that they’ve become idols to me?”
Soul searching is never an easy thing and we rarely get the pat answers for which we sometimes wish. But at the end of the day, I’d rather much rather be self-aware and in a bit of discomfort than to be like the emperor with his new clothes, blissful in ignorance and unable to see what was perfectly evident to the rest of the world.