Where Are They Now? a Sequel
the heart of Biblical Greats
October 5th, 2021
a Sacrifice
Genesis 22:6-8, ‘So Abraham took the wood of the burnt offering and laid it on Isaac his son, and he took the fire in his hand, and a knife, and the two of them went together. But Isaac spoke up to Abraham his father and said, “My father!” And he said, “Here I am, my son.” Then Isaac said, “Look, the fire and the wood, but where is the lamb for a burnt offering?” And Abraham said, “My son, God will provide for Himself the lamb for a burnt offering.” So the two of them went together.” (NKJV)
The desert was always a barren landscape, hot and baked like a cake forgotten in an oven, air standing at attention, saluting the heat as it waved like a flag. God must have created this wasteland the day he removed Adam and Eve from the Garden, maybe a little bit of, “Take that!” while he was deciding where to banish them to. A smile tugged at Isaac’s lips, the image filling his mind, as he trudged onward. In this land there was never anything here to look at, dull and tedious going, a monotonous migration. Hmmm, aha! Why! there’s a grain of sand! Well, golly, how about that, a lizard! You longed to run your eyes across an oasis, a bit of waving green grass and a palm rising skyward for some shade, a caravan of camel climbing a mound a far way off. But that never happened. ‘What I’d give for a meal,’ Isaac surprised himself as he spoke his thought aloud. His voice sounded foreign in the silence that responded. He knew he was getting closer because in the distance the land became rugged, climbing upward. Rocks stood like sentinels blocking the entrance to the thicket. He knew the thorns were almost as many as the sand; as he shuffled toward the mountain, he remembered…
Genesis 22:9-14, ‘Then they came to the place of which God had told him. And Abraham built an altar there and placed the wood in order; and he bound Isaac his son and laid him on the altar, upon the wood. And Abraham stretched out his hand and took the knife to slay his son. But the Angel of the Lord called to him from heaven and said, “Abraham, Abraham.” So he said, “Here I am.” And He said, “Do not lay your hand on the lad, or do anything to him; for now I know that you fear God, since you have not withheld your son, your only son, from Me.” Then Abraham lifted his eyes and looked, and there behind him was a ram caught in a thicket by his horns. So Abraham went and took the ram, and offered it up for a burnt offering instead of his son. And Abraham called the name of the place, The-Lord-Will-Provide; as it is said to this day, “In the Mount of the Lord, it shall be provided.”’ (NKJV)
He still recalled the way the dirt had clotted with tears running down his cheeks. He couldn’t find his words; they hid. But they ran rampant in his mind, he hadn’t forgotten, poking out from behind the visuals that were forming, jeering through his thoughts. ‘I am sure I heard Father say, God will provide the sacrifice. I don’t think he said he had to provide the burnt offering. What is going on here?! Dad! Don’t! Father! What are you thinking?! Dad, I’m sorry! Dad! What did I do?’ All those things had wrecked havoc in his head while his heart had climbed into his throat where his words should have been, pounding like an angry master on a servant’s door.
He could almost feel the jab of twigs poking through the ropes that bound him. He tried to turn his head to see if that would make his words fall out, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the face of his father. He smelled rain in the distance and thought that God might just be crying due to his dad’s actions. ‘Dad,’ he tried to yell, but nothing. His father raised his hand and he remembered how the sun had glinted off the blade. Suddenly sweat beaded on his dad’s forehead and tears slid from his eyes until they became a stream, dripping onto his face. He recalled how confused he felt; the knife and the sheen of its blade and the emotion running like a river and the way his dad shook as if he were wrestling with an invisible force. It could go either way, he remembered thinking, as his words stayed silent outside, but inside they reached a scream.
The deep voice came and it shook the land. ‘Do not hurt the boy,’ he had heard, and disbelief surged through his boyish chest like an arrow shot from a bow. Isaac had squeezed his eyes so tight even the light could not penetrate, but finally he chanced a peek. He followed his father’s gaze, a silent plea on the tip of his tongue. Suddenly, it seemed so normal, so typical, so expected. He recalled how it was of no surprise when his dad walked toward him, a young ram struggling in his dad’s arms much the way he reckoned he had been wrestling in his own bondage moments before. Relief consumed him but not before he surmised he knew precisely what that sheep was experiencing. He hoped to never feel that way again.
Years had eked by, but the memory would remain etched forever in Isaac’s mind. He was old now, withered by time, his skin like the leather his own son wore. He had never asked his father what had really transpired that day; maybe part of him did not want to know. But he had often looked at his own boys and known he could not have offered either of his sons as a burnt offering. In fact, he’d never forget what it had felt like to almost have been the atonement to an Almighty God.
John 3:16-17, ‘”For here is the way God loved the world—He gave His only, unique Son as a gift. So now everyone who believes in Him will never perish but experience everlasting life. God did not send His Son into the world to judge and condemn the world, but to be its Savior and rescue it!”’ (TPT)
