Abraham was walking among his herds, giving an order here, asking a question there, when he came to a standstill, seeing a ewe bleating over the body of her lamb. Clearly as if it were an audible voice, he heard the God who had given him the promise of his own son, the Creator God saying: “Abraham!”
Familiar with that voice that brought such peace and faith, his spirit submitted immediately as the sense of an impeding test began to stir within him, “Here I am.” God responded to Abraham’s submission with a command that confirmed with finality his premonition: “Take now your son, your only son, Isaac, whom you love, and go into the mountain country of Moria. Offer your son there as a burnt offering to me on a mountain that I will show you.”
Those last words were familiar to Abraham. “That I will show you.” Those were the words God had used to call him in the first place, to the land that He had promised Abraham and his descendants; descendants who, at that time, had been only a dream and a fading hope to Abraham. But those first words seared Abraham’s brain like the branding irons his men used on the goats and sheep. Sacrifice? His only son? God was right, he did love his son. His only son. Sacrifice him?
Abraham had believed all along that this God Who he was learning to know gradually as the days and years passed, was not like the gods of the other people who required human sacrifice for their wrath to be appeased. Now He asked him to give up the life of the person he held most dear. And he wasn’t even sure why?
Abraham dismissed these thoughts as soon as they arose. “You have proven Yourself to me so many times before, even when I chose to make my own plans to make Your promises come true. I believe that You have a plan, though I don’t know what it is. You promised that Isaac is the son through whom You will make me a great nation. I believe that promise. Tomorrow I will go and sacrifice him to You.”
That evening’s sunset held a rare beauty, but it was lost on Abraham. If Sarah noticed that her husband was quiet and withdrawn that night, she didn’t show it. Abraham spent the night in sleeplessness. He had told Isaac and two servants that they would be leaving early the next morning to worship somewhere in Moria. That was all they knew. Abraham knew that he would awaken to two servants and a son willing to obey his every command. But how would Isaac respond to a command to lay down his life? Abraham decided to keep the nature of the worship secret to all three until it became absolutely necessary. He definitely couldn’t tell Sarah. He realised he would have to cross that bridge some or other time, but decided to wait until he got to it…
The night seemed endless and yet the dawn arrived all too soon and sure enough, Isaac and the two servants were ready. Abraham saddled his mule, split the wood for the offering and the four of them began their unlikely journey. As they walked Isaac chatted to his father about anything that came to mind, jumping from topic to topic until he noticed that Abraham seemed distant, detached. “Are you alright, Father?” he asked with some concern. Abraham simply grunted and nodded.
The rest of the journey continued in relative silence. Isaac had picked up that something was not right, but he honoured his Father too much to push him for an answer. He knew his father’s God and he knew that they were close. He sent a silent prayer up to Him. “Please take the worry from him. He is faithful to You, God. I see it in his life. May his trust in You be rewarded by Your faithfulness.”
Unaware of his son’s prayer, Abraham touched the knife in his belt and felt his heart constrict within him. For a moment his steps faltered. The import of God’s command to him suddenly hit him in full force. It was one thing to give up that which you love most on this Earth, but to be the one to put a knife to the throat of your own son, your flesh and blood, spilling his life and then burning him, removing the last trace of his existence; that was just too much. For a moment the words “Are you sure, Lord?” flitted through his mind. Once again he dismissed the doubts. “I trust You,” he whispered and stepped forward with new determination. Yet with each step he grieved as a father whose son was already dead.
Three days had never felt so long to Abraham. Keeping his silence was easy, making conversation was more difficult. His few stilted attempts at talking or responding to the chatter between his son and the two men with them, were short-lived. He invariably lapsed into silence again and spoke instead to his God. Questions filled his mind, largely unanswered, except for the constant reminder from God that this journey was one that He wanted Abraham to take.
He found himself thinking up all sorts of ways that God could turn this nightmare into a dream of hope, even begging Him to recant, although simultaneously knowing that his God was not a man that He should change His mind. The emotional strain of the journey was far worse than the physical demands could ever measure up to, but when Abraham saw the fated peak in the distance on the morning of that third day, he knew the pinnacle of heartache lay awaiting him just ahead.
“Stay here and wait for us while we go and worship on that peak,” he told the servants. “We will return when we are done.” Abraham strapped the wood for the offering on Isaac’s back. And in silence they began the last leg of the journey. Abraham’s heart had never been so heavy, yet strangely enough a pervading peace settled on him. His love for Isaac was profound, but his love for his God exceeded it infinitely. It was God who had promised Isaac to him. It was God who had given Isaac to him. It was God who had proved faithful in every covenant He had ever made with Abraham. It was God whose word always proved true.
Abraham knew in his heart of hearts that there was nothing he would hold back from his God, no matter what it cost him. No matter whether he understood or not. Trust does not involve knowing or understanding. Faith trusts, even blindfolded.
Isaac broke into his father’s thoughts with the question that had been plaguing him since they left the others at camp. “Father…?” Abraham answered in the same way he had replied to God, “Here I am.” Abraham’s eyes scanned the distance, avoiding the gaze of his son, who peered at him as if trying to look into the depths of his soul. “I see the fire pot and the wood, but where is the lamb for the burnt offering?”
It was the question Abraham had been expecting and fearing and now it was here, glaring him in the face. His own answer surprised him, although he felt again that pervasive, inexplicable peace just as he said it: “My son, God himself will provide the lamb for the offering.” Isaac merely nodded, aware that the answer to his question testified of his father’s unshakeable faith in his God. A faith that was an endless and solid example for Isaac. A faith that inspired Isaac to trust in God himself, awakened a desire in him to know this God and surrender his life to Him.
At last they reached the top of the peak and built an altar of stones and soil. Arranging the wood on top, Isaac found himself glancing around to see where the lamb might be that his father had said God would provide, but something inside told him that he would be surrendering his life in a far more tangible way than he had ever imagined. He knew the gods of all the nations they had seen in their nomadic life demanded the sacrifice of children. He had never imagined the God of his father would ask such a thing. Yet here it was, and all he could do was surrender.
As if in answer to the ramblings of Isaac’s mind, Abraham took hold of his arms and began to bind his wrists together. His heart pounding, Isaac didn’t resist, in fact he silently clambered onto the altar to save his father the effort of lifting him. As Abraham straightened up from binding his ankles their eyes met for as few lingering seconds, revealing to Isaac the dark emotion of sorrow in his father’s eyes. Isaac sensed an apology in him, but burning through those emotions was the fire of faith and trust in God. A silent goodbye was exchanged between them, but it was a goodbye sparked with a nameless hope. A hope in a promise of which both were deeply aware. A promise made by a faithful God.
Abraham’s hand reached for the knife in his belt. The moment of truth had arrived. It was here at this point that it all came to an end. What happened after this… well, God only knew. Abraham knew his God and he knew that all things must be possible for Him. The very fact that Isaac was here in front of him, whether on an altar or not, was proof that He was capable of more than Abraham or Isaac could ever ask or imagine.
A strong, strident, male voice broke the tension of the moment: “Abraham! Abraham!” He recognised it as the voice of a Heavenly being. “Here I am,” he replied, his hand resting on the hilt of his knife. “Do not lay a hand upon your son, and do nothing to harm him; for now I know that you fear God, seeing that you have not withheld your son, your only son, from me.”
All the strength seemed suddenly sapped from Abraham as his hand fell limply from his knife. Looking up he saw a ram caught by its horns in a nearby bush. Where it had come from he could not say, but there it was, as large as life, and his spirit knew that this was the salvation of God. The substitution.
Isaac couldn’t hold back the tears that coursed silently down his cheeks. His hands shook involuntarily when Abraham loosened them, but somehow he and his father managed to remove the ram from the thicket and offer it to their God. Isaac could not remember a time he had made a sacrifice to God with such gratitude. Abraham’s own gratitude pulsated with every beat of his heart. His faith in his God had been proven.
“My son,” he said to Isaac, “From this day forth, this mountain will be called Jehovahjireh.” Isaac nodded. There was no better name, for God had surely provided, He had let it be seen. He had allowed Abraham and Isaac to see His grace and glory, His faithfulness and provision. He had given them a glimpse of His character. He had proven to them once and for all that He did not desire human sacrifice, He did not wish for human life to be sacrificed to appease Him.
As the flames from the fire licked upwards toward heaven, the voice of the angel of the Lord was heard again. “I swear by Myself, says the LORD, that because you have done this thing and not withheld your son, your only son; that in blessing, I will bless you, and in multiplying I will multiply your seed as the stars of the heavens and as the sand on the seashore; and your seed will possess the gates of his enemies; and in your seed all the nations of the Earth shall be blessed, because you have obeyed My voice.”
As they embraced, both father and son knew to the depth of their souls that this whole journey had very little to do with a sacrifice and everything to do with a level of commitment and submission to God which could only be the fruit of a relationship of trust and love. It was about the reward, the blessing that is bestowed on all who obey out of devotion to and adoration for the One True God, Yahweh. Jehovahjireh.
It was an experience which cemented in both of them an unshakeable knowledge of the the character of Yahweh. The foundation of their faith. The foundation of the faith of their descendants. A faith in a God who would one day sacrifice His own Son and receive Him back from the dead as well. Victorious, transformed, the first of a multitude of sons and daughters of God!
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