"And He said,
Take now thy son, thine only son Isaac, whom thou lovest; and get thee into the
;and of Moriah; and offer him there for a burnt offering upon one of the
mountains which I will tell thee of" (Gen. 22:2).
A voice in the
night. Abraham shakes himself. This could not be the Lord.
Isaac is in the
flower of manhood. Youth and innocence, trusting obedience and vigor possess
him. Abraham, on the other hand, is old; weary of test and trial. Tending
toward the grave. And now, in his frailty, comes the greatest test he would
ever endure.
He had reason to
wonder if God was truly speaking. But he obeyed, for he knew that voice too
well.
He doesn't wake
Sarah, fearing that the love of the doting mother will stay obedience. He
arouses Isaac and a couple of servants. They gather provisions and are off to
the land of Moriah.
Two days pass. Days
of anguish like none other. Abraham has no strength, no heart for words. At
last, the sign of promise above a mountain, and Abraham leaves the servants,
taking Isaac and the fire and wood.
The question:
"Behold the fire and the wood: but where is the lamb for a burnt
offering?" (vs. 7).
"Oh, what a
test was this! How the endearing words, 'my father,' pierced Abraham's heart!
Not yet--he could not tell him now. 'My son,' he said, 'God will provide
Himself a lamb for a burnt offering.' " PP 152
The altar ready, the
wood ready--the plan is disclosed to an astonished Isaac. He is well possessed
with powers to resist his father's duty, but he does not. Instead, he
"felt that he was honored in being called to give his life as an offering
to God. He tenderly seeks to lighten the father's grief, and encourages his
nerveless hands to bind the cords that confine him to the altar."
"And now the
last words of love are spoken, the last tears shed, the last embrace is given.
The father lifts the knife to slay his son,…" PP 152
Imagination grasps
the scene all too well. Saying goodbye again…
But "his arm is
stayed. An angel of God calls to the patriarch out of heaven,…'Lay not thine
hand upon the lad, neither do thou any thing unto him: for now I know that thou
fearest God, seeing thou hast not withheld they son, thine only son, from Me."
PP 152
Tears stream down
both cheeks, blur the vision. It strikes home.
Thine only son. Give
him up. Give up what you've waited for all your life. I have given, but I'm
asking you to give it back.
Hands open,
outstretched, though anguish rends the heart. Spirit says goodbye to that which
it loves near more than anything else on earth. "Thy will, not mine, be
done…"
But Abraham's test
was just that: a test. Not only to refute the claims of the devil that the old
man had broken the covenant and really did not love God, but for another reason
as well.
"When to
Isaac's question, 'Where is the lamb for a burnt offering?' Abraham made
answer, 'God will provide Himself a lamb;' and when the father's hand was
stayed as he was about to slay his son; and the ram which God had provided was
offered in the place of Isaac--then light was shed upon the mystery of
redemption, and even the angels understood more
clearly the wonderful provision God had made for man's salvation."
PP 155
It was a test--that
angels might understand better. More clearly.
In this life, we
have tests and trials that rend our hearts in two. We are given that which
we've sought, which we've been promised--and then asked to give it back to God,
to let it go.
With tears and
trembling, we often resist. Not many are able to obey as Abraham.
Yet if you obey, God
may stay the knife. He may return to you that blessing you willingly returned
to Him--or He may give you something better. But often, when the Lord bids you
let go, it is a mere test. He wants to know if you love the Giver better than
the gift.
And often, we suffer
that angels might know the height and depth, the mystery of the love of the God
whose breath sustains worlds we know not of…
Oh Lord, teach me to accept suffering as
Abraham...And help me to let go better of that which You ask for--whether You
return it to me or not...
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