Can you imagine what it must have been like that day?
There was Abraham, aged, back bent with the burden he was carrying. Pale-faced and tight-lipped, sweat dripping down his brow. Thoughts racing. None of this made sense, and yet… Even as he tried to reason, to understand, his mind was set. He knew what he would do, because how could he do anything else? Even this—his heart must have broken at the thought of it—was a sacrifice he would make if his God asked it of him. How could he hold anything back when he walked with the One who held all things?
And there was Isaac. Young, strong, confident in his father’s words. Isn’t every dad a hero in their child’s eyes? Isn’t every dad infallible? At least for a while. And weren’t they going to worship his father’s God? Isaac must have known the impossible circumstances of his own birth. Must have heard the stories. Why should he doubt that God would provide? Stranger things had happened before.
Can you imagine? Abraham binding his beloved son. Averting his gaze, unable to look into those bewildered eyes.
Can you imagine? The knife in his hand.
The weight of it.
The horror of it.
And the conviction, unfaltering, that this was what the Lord had asked and so it must be done.
Can you imagine? That Voice, unmistakable and beloved, more precious and more powerful than any other, calling his name. Releasing him from this terrible act. Providing a ram.
Can you imagine the tears and the hugs and the sheer relief between Abraham and Isaac? The wonder of the Lord’s provision and his sifting of a human heart. The smell of the offering, rising up to the sky and the promise, deeper, greater than before, “Through you, all nations will be blessed.” And the words on Abraham’s lips, “Jehovah Jireh!”
Jehovah Jireh. The Lord will provide.
The name declared that day has echoed through the centuries. Strengthened and rounded out in the Scriptures and the coming of the Son, it has been a lived experience for our brothers and sisters through the generations in infinite ways, both large and small. Jehovah Jireh. The Lord will provide.
I can say it too. I can join the chorus. God has provided financial support through his church for seven-and-a-half years of ministry. He has provided friends and family, strength for each day and each moment, material and immaterial, measurable and immeasurable, grace upon grace, blessing upon blessing. He has provided his Son. He has bought me my salvation. Jehovah Jireh.
And yet.
I don’t know about you, but I’m quick to forget this truth. This year, I’ve experienced the stripping away of so many good things, and I have doubted his provision. I would love to say that I joined with Job in declaring, “He gives and he takes away. Blessed be the name of the Lord.” But instead, I’ve pleaded with God for answers and when I have not been given the explanations that I think I need, I struggle to believe that he is providing or that he will provide. Most of the time, my vision is limited to my half-seen present and my unknown future, and I forget his faithfulness to me today and through all the days that came before.
So, as I revisit this story of Abraham and Isaac, and I see Abraham’s faith, I find my heart convicted. It’s not in the Genesis account, but in Hebrews we learn that Abraham didn’t doubt God in the face of that terrible request. He didn’t question who God is or if God was for him. Instead, Abraham believed impossible things, because he knew that he was dealing with God who does impossible things and who is faithful to keep his promises.
What has God promised me? That I am his, always and forever. And what else? That I have, and will always have, everything I need for life and godliness. I am longing for answers. I don’t want to ignore or brush over the heartache of that. But every now and then, for shining, shimmering moments, I get what Abraham must surely have grasped—God is the answer. And he is enough.
What stirs in your heart when you read the story of Abraham and Isaac?
