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Abraham and
Isaac: The Call to Sacrifice
Message from Ken Read in October, 2004

Heb.
11:17
It was by faith that Abraham offered Isaac
as a sacrifice when God was testing him. Abraham, who had received God's
promises, was ready to sacrifice his only son, Isaac, 18 though
God had promised him, "Isaac is the son through whom your descendants will
be counted." 19 Abraham assumed that if Isaac died, God
was able to bring him back to life again. And in a sense, Abraham did receive
his son back from the dead.
You
know, really the measure of faith is obedience. It is not an intellectual assent
or even a deeply-held belief, but it is determined by your actions. We see this
most clearly in the greatest test of the faith of Abraham in these chapters that
we have been reading this morning.
What
a rocky road Abraham has already traveled in his pilgrimage. But a few years
later comes the hardest test of all. It seems strange, but it makes perfect
sense to God. God has watched Abraham and his son. He watched the way Abraham
first looked at his son at his birth, and how after a century of waiting,
Abraham laughed. They laughed through infancy, the old man laughing at every new
smile and every new word. “Did you hear that? I think he said ‘Abba!’”
He laughed when Laughter Boy took his first step, and all the way through
toddlerhood. I imagine Abraham took Isaac with him everywhere by then. After
all, he was 103 years old, and he wanted to squeeze the most out of each day
with this long-awaited and much-promised son.
I’m
sure he was over-protective, doting over the boy at every childhood injury or
cold. I imagine that well-meaning friends said, “Isaac, now that you are
turning five years old, aren’t you looking forward to riding the bus to school
this fall!” Do you think Abraham parted with his son? He brought Isaac to
Kindergarten that first day, and the father just couldn’t let go of his little
boy’s hand. He said, “I think we will homeschool. Thanks.” And he laughed
all the way back home.
God
was watching all of this laughter, and the Lord was monitoring Abraham’s
heart. This was, after all, his only begotten son, and there certainly would be
no more. Not at the age of 110. The oldest man in the county, and he’s out
there laughing while he plays basketball in the backyard with his son. “Here,
son, let me show you how to care for a sick lamb. You will need this skill when
you take over the herd.”
God
watched while Sarah called them to dinner, Abraham and Laughter Boy. Isaac is
growing up, you know. She notices that now it is Isaac who is holding Abraham
when they walk over the unsteady ground over the hilltop. The Lord has watched
all of this with pleasure, but the Lord knows what has happened in the heart of
Abraham. This is Abraham, who without question was willing to leave his
father’s household to follow God wherever he would go. Abram showed that he
loved God more than his own family then. I wonder what choice he would make now?
Has he left his father’s idols and been granted a promise, only to have that
very promise become an idol itself?
[Gen.
22] And the Lord tells Abraham to worship again, only this time it’s not a
sheep or an ox. God calls for Abraham to give his son—and notice how God words
it: his only son, named Isaac,
whom he loves. God is very specific
in pinpointing the difficulty of this sacrifice. The promises have been nice,
though seemingly impossible. But this request goes a step further. Maybe one
step too far. At least, it seems that way to me. But perhaps by this point,
Abraham has learned to take God’s words to him by faith, and Abraham knows
that Isaac is the one thing in the world that he would not, could not, cannot
give up. It seems to destroy the promise, more surely than Ishmael would have
fulfilled it.
Abraham
is the father of our faith because, without question or argument, he follows the
Lord’s call. He has learned to obey God’s call and to trust the outcome over
the last four decades. He had left his father’s house. He had trusted God for
a son, from whom would come a nation, and had held on to that promise for a
quarter of a century before it was fulfilled. And now, in his advanced age, he
was willing to lose the son of his laughter and the nation that he represented,
all because God said it.
He
leaves early in the morning (before he can change his mind), and he doesn’t bring an animal (there’s
no backup plan on Abraham’s part, not this time). He only brings his
beloved son, Laughter Boy, whom he loves. There is no other plan in his mind.
But he is wrestling with God the whole way. Laughter Boy, his old father, and a
servant walk in silence. But inside Abraham’s head, there is plenty of
conversation taking place. Are you sure
you want this, Lord? This is just a test, right? You don’t really want this?
Maybe you mean something else, and I wasn’t hearing you right? You spoke to me
clearly yesterday, but I don’t hear you today. Is there anything you’d like
to say now, Lord? Because if there is anything . . . anything at all you’d
like to say, this would sure be a good time for you to speak.
God
shows him the mountain. If Abraham had the ears to hear it, the Lord would have
told him more about it.
Mt.
Moriah
? What is
that city just on the other side? That is Salim. Isn’t
that a pagan town? It
is right now, but someday you will have a descendant named David, who will
rename it
Jerusalem
. It will
be called the city of
God
, and he
will build me a temple there. Why
go here, just north of Salim? It
won’t be the last time a sacrifice is made in this place.
He
goes on up with just Isaac and the torch and the wood. Laughter Boy asks his
only question: “Where is the sacrifice?” And Abraham, against all hope,
speaks by faith: “God will provide the sacrifice, my son.”
The
two build an altar and arrange the wood in silence, but the inner argument
continues between Abraham and his God.
God, I’m not sure this is fair. After all, you are God. You don’t know what
it’s like to, to lose your only begotten son, to knowingly bind him up and
place him on an altar and to have to kill your own self. This is my beloved son,
in whom I am well pleased. You don’t know what you are asking! So, is the plan
to bring him back from the dead? Is that what you will do, Lord? . . . Why
don’t you speak? Give me a clue here! You are so silent! My God, my God, why
have you forsaken me? He takes out the knife, and holds it aloft, ready to
kill his son as swiftly and painlessly as possible. He avoids looking into his
son’s confused and trusting eyes. Tears are streaming down his face, which is
contorted in pain. Nothing has ever been so difficult for Abraham as this. Okay,
let’s finish this.
Then
(and not a moment sooner or later) an angel cries out from heaven. “Abraham!
Abraham!” In the greatest understatement of the Bible, Abraham says, “I’m
listening!” And God does, in fact, spare Isaac, does bring him back from the
dead, in a sense, does provide a ram in Isaac’s place.
And
now God—and Abraham—know that Abraham truly fears the Lord and would give
him everything.
What
would be the hardest thing for me to give up—not just lose, but give away?
Perhaps sending my firstborn son into the military. Perhaps losing my voice, or
my hands, or my ability to make music. Perhaps my wife. Perhaps it was hardest
for Moses to throw down his rod at the burning bush. Perhaps it was hardest for
Paul to have a thorn in the flesh. Whatever it is, it tends to be what the Holy
Spirit asks for from me. Like the Beast telling Belle that she could go anywhere
but the west wing, I tell God what He can’t have, and He goes right to it and
asks for it. If I have been trained by what He has told me before, I know that
His promises and joy have sustained me when I have obeyed in the past, so I can
trust Him with this one, too.
So,
what has God whispered to you? Are you willing to live with that dream running
in the background of your life, without compromise, for years, dying to the
possibility of its fulfillment, and waiting for God to carry it out in you and
through you?
Look
at where this passage in Hebrews 11 is headed: “Therefore, let us throw off
everything that encumbers, and the sin that so easily entangles, and let us run
with perseverance the race that is marked out for us.” In those days, everyone
wore robes most of the time, but Olympic athletes ran naked. Imagine trying to
run in a tunic, or trying to gather up all the folds of material. Shoes back
then were leather soles with leather straps wrapped around your foot. No a lot
of traction. All of that encumbered an athlete. So the writer says, “Throw it
off! Set it aside! Give it up! Get rid of it!” It slows you down.
Has
anything been slowing you down in your journey of faith? Do you have an idol
there in your hands, and you’ve been trying to run a heavenly race while
carrying an earthly idol? Is it encumbering your run?
Let
me be so bold as to invite you to identify that idol in your life this morning,
and by the time you leave today, for you to set it aside completely. An idol is
anything that you love more than you love God. Maybe that idol is a boyfriend or
girlfriend. Maybe it is you, your pride, your image, your reputation, your
plans, your self-serving life. Maybe it is your stinky attitude with your
parents or family. Is God asking you to die to something? What will you do? Will
you be like Abraham, the father of our faith, and obey him instantly, willingly,
and completely? Or will you keep the forbidden thing that you love, and continue
to allow it to trip you up, slow you down, and knock you on your back?
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