Abraham had waited a lifetime for his blessing, and now God said to kill it.

The birth of Ishmael had brought Abraham joy at finally producing a child, though it was a tainted, incomplete joy; circumventing God’s plan, allowing Sarah to cast Hagar into the wilderness, and living in tension for thirteen years left him painfully aware of his humanity. When angelic visitors arrived to finally give a timeline to the decades-long promise, there was a lightening in Abraham’s soul.

“He has not retracted the promise because of my impatience! He is still faithful though I am not!”

In his one hundredth year, Abraham experienced a joy that dwarfed all others as he held his promised son Isaac. Gazing into the large, soft eyes immediately softened the pain of nearly a century of waiting, and though he had chosen to trust God, he now knew God to be true more deeply than ever. With immense pride he watched Isaac grow and mature, finding unexpected energy in his old age to raise and shepherd the young man into adulthood. “This fine young man,” he thought, “will most assuredly bring about a great nation!”

The Lord’s shout in the dark of night changed everything.

“Abraham!”

However Abraham had sought to be obedient before, his resolve and excitement had multiplied tenfold after Issac’s birth. God had shown his power and goodness, and Abraham would never again question or hesitate with God’s will. “Here I am!”

There was a solemn silence, and Abraham’s smile of anticipation faltered. “Take your son, your only son Isaac, whom you love, and go to the land of Moriah.” Abraham had been faithful to previous travel plans from God, but deep in his soul he knew this was different. “Offer him there as a burnt offering on one of the mountains of which I shall tell you.”

Then, silence.

Burnt offering stung in Abraham’s ears for what felt like hours. God’s command was beyond shocking – how could God call for the death of the very promise He brought about? – yet this was not what shocked Abraham most: he was resolved to do it.

He knew all the reasons he should not sacrifice his son, from his deep love to the fact human sacrifice was not a part of his religion. His mind flooded with thoughts like, “Is this really God,” and “How will the generations come if your son is dead,” yet for as loud and jumbled as they were his soul’s response was not stifled: here I am.

Abraham was unsure if he had slept before he felt inclined to rise before the dawn and saddle his donkey. He first went to rouse two of his servants, who were perplexed by the sudden agenda, and paused outside Isaac’s door as they gathered supplies.

Take your son, your only son Isaac, whom you love.

God knew his deep love for Isaac; He knew what He was asking was catastrophic. As the light of dawn began to creep through the window and rest on Isaac’s face, Abraham felt a rush of pride at the young man before him followed swiftly by anguish at what he was about to do.

He closed his eyes. No one would understand. He had taken care not to wake Sarah as he dressed, because she would move heaven and earth to stop him if she knew what he intended to do. She believed in God, but would not believe Abraham had heard him accurately. He wouldn’t blame her.

Abraham knew what he intended to do was not just foolish, but wrong, but for it coming from the God of the universe. To murder my promised child, sacrifice him as though he were a mere lamb… how is that not wrong? But if the Lord asks for it, how could it be wrong, since He is incapable of wrong? Abraham knew he would never be able to make sense of it.

He gripped the doorframe. The only thing that made sense, more than ever before, is that obedience to God was paramount to all else. If he were to let Isaac live, he would be choosing Isaac over God; if he were to defend the promise, he would be valuing the promise over the Promiser.

“Isaac…” Isaac stirred. “Isaac, my son…” Isaac’s eyelids parted slowly, and for a moment he thought he saw his father brush a tear from his cheek.

He sat up quickly. “Father? What is it? Is everything okay?”

Abraham composed himself; he could not let on how heavy this journey would be. “Yes… yes, son. Everything is fine. God…” Abraham breathed deep, “… God has asked us to worship him in Moriah.”

Isaac, always ready to serve his father, left the bed and began to dress. “Would you like me to get mother?”

“No!” The abruptness made them both stop. “No… let her sleep. God has called us.”

Abraham and Isaac met with the servants and donkey, and after walking beyond earshot of their home, Abraham began cutting and gathering logs.

Isaac stepped from behind and put a hand on Abraham’s shoulder. “Are we offering a sacrifice as well?”

Abraham was glad he could not see his face. With each swing of the ax, tears had streamed down his cheeks and pooled through his thick beard. We pretended to wipe his forehead as though he was sweating, pressing his sleeve deep into his eyes. “Yes, I am… we are.”

The journey was as quiet as it was long. Isaac knew his father well enough to know something was wrong, as well as how futile it would be to pry information he clearly did not want to share. Despite a nagging feeling something was off, he resolved to trust his father: “Whatever is bothering my father, I know he is no fool.”

Over the course of two days Abraham kept his eyes ahead, whispering psalms of worship and praise to keep his mind from spiraling. On the third day, when the mountain came into few, his breath grew shaky and his knees weak. The servants rushed to stabilize him.

“No, thank you, I am fine.” Abraham composed himself. He realized his servants would not understand what was about to happen even less than Sarah, because they had not experienced the profoundness of God; in their youthful strength they may overpower him as soon as he bound Isaac. “In fact, stay here with the donkey; I and the boy will go over there and worship and come again to you.”

The boy. Why had he said it like this? Speaking the word brought a flood of memories of Isaac’s childhood, and the anguish of losing him felt too heavy to bear. He began to aggressively load the wood onto Abraham, trying desperately to drown his thoughts. Grabbing the knife and fire he trudged down the path, Isaac struggling to keep up under the weight of the logs.

A voice began to gnaw at Abraham. Are you crazy? Are you really going to murder your son, a son you love more deeply than you knew you could? Abraham wanted to ignore the voice, but it bolstered his own questioning. Isn’t it through Isaac that your offspring are to come? This makes no sense. “I know!” Abraham harshly whispered. “But God… what He says is what must be. I do not understand it, but I understand Him, at least enough to know He can do anything. Perhaps He will raise Isaac from the dead.” Perhaps… but what will Isaac think of you then? And Sarah? God promised you a son, are you so foolish to actually think He would call you to destroy what He gave you?

Isaac heard his father’s mutterings but could not make them out. He shifted the wood as the incline increased, and realized they were ill-equipped for a sacrifice. “My father!”

Abraham was snatched from his ruminating. “Here I am, my son.”

“Look! We have the fire and the wood, but where is the lamb for the offering?”

Abraham did not turn back. How could he answer? Father, help me. “God will provide for himself the lamb for the burnt offering, my son.”

Finally, they arrived at the place which God had revealed during their journey, and Abraham set out quickly to build an altar. As much as he wanted to delay what was to come, he knew it was inevitable and longed for it to be over. He laid the wood in order atop the altar, and then stopped. Isaac, who had been scanning the brush for a lamb, did not notice his father’s stillness until it dragged uncomfortably long.

“Father?” Isaac’s voice stirred Abraham, who took a deep breath, picked up the rope, and turned to face his son. Isaac had never seen a look like this on his Father’s face, and could not adequately describe it; it was not anger, but was strangely stern, and was not sad, but something more overpowering. Abraham stepped toward him, and all at once Isaac knew there would be no lamb.

His mind flooded with thoughts at the impossible reality unfolding: his father, whom he loved and who loved him, intended to sacrifice him. Fear, self-preservation, and confusion assaulted him, yet for as loud and jumbled as they were his soul’s response was not stifled: here I am.

He did not understand it, but something within him resolved to trust his father, who trusted his Father. He had only known his father to be faithfully obedient to God, so surely there was a plan that would not end in death. Unsure of what he was accepting, he extended his shaking arms and clenched his jaw to stifle tears as the rope was worked around him. Once bound, their eyes met; neither had words, and they stared in silence until their eyes dried.

Abraham laid the son he loved atop the altar, the wood shifting under his weight. He glanced around once more for any sign of a different way, and upon seeing none turned his eyes upward, as though to say, “if this is your will… I will.” Then Abraham reached out his hand and took the knife to slaughter his son.

The angelic shout that halted his arms rang in his ears for years to come.