The Altar of Faith
The test of Abraham is one we must all endure
What are the most terrifying words in Scripture? At this point in my life, there is one verse that causes me to shudder more than any other.
“Take now your son, your only son, whom you love, Isaac, and go to the land of Moriah, and offer him there as a burnt offering on one of the mountains of which I will tell you.” (Genesis 22:2)
Why do those words fill me with dread? Because I have a son: my only son, whom I love. Even before he was born, God’s command to Abraham was often on my mind, for if God could demand the life of Abraham’s son, he could demand the life of mine.
God put Abraham to this test specifically because of Abraham’s love for Isaac. Not only that, but he designed the trial to test Abraham’s faith in the promise. Would Abraham withhold from God the thing he loved the most? Could he possibly trust a God who would demand such a thing?
It is somewhat reminiscent of the test put to Job, who suffered the loss of all his children. Thank God, I have not been forced to endure such a trial. My son is alive and in good health.
And yet, all is not well.
It is hard to place the moment when I first realized my son was having difficulties. All new mothers have concerns for their children, but this was something different: first a nagging whisper in my head, then an internal scream without end.
You see, my son struggles to do things other children his age do. He is well behind in his language development, both in terms of comprehending and speaking. Our life is now full of appointments: speech therapist, hearing test, occupational therapist, pediatric development. There is no end to the appointments.
I told myself before he was born, “You must prepare yourself for the possibility that he will have special needs.” But understanding it intellectually is one thing. Living with that fear day after day as the hopes you have for your child are called into question: that is another thing entirely.
I wonder now if my son will be able to keep up with his peers in school. I told myself before he was born, “You must be prepared for the possibility that he will not be brilliant.” My husband and I both have advanced degrees. Everyone told us, “That baby will be a genius!” I knew that might not be God’s will, but I had not yet felt it.
As my son fell further behind, I struggled to process my feelings. I carried my fears with me everywhere, uncertain how to tell people that I felt God was calling me to place my son on the altar: to surrender all my hopes and dreams for his future and trust in the divine plan. “Isn’t that over dramatic?” I wondered. “He isn’t dead or dying.” But your child does not have to be dying for you to be dying inside.
Who did Abraham have to talk to when God demanded his son? He must have felt everything I feel and far more: fear, guilt, anger, confusion. It is only natural, when God takes something precious from you, to believe it is a punishment for your sins. I have wondered so many times if it is my fault that my son is struggling—if I am a bad mother, or if God is mad at me.
“Who sinned, this man or his parents, that he would be born blind?” (John 9:2) It is a natural human question, but my son is not struggling because of my sin, and Abraham was not asked to sacrifice Isaac as some kind of perverse tit for tat. Abraham was called to surrender the thing he loved most as a way to gauge his faith, and not because God needed to know that Abraham trusted him, but because Abraham needed to know that he could trust God.
God was putting Abraham to a supreme test, but in doing so, God was demanding nothing of Abraham that he was not prepared to sacrifice himself. For God the Father gave his only Son, surrendering him to death as a substitute for humanity. When the Son of God was raised from the dead, it served as proof that all those joined to him by faith would also be raised. God never demands more from us than he has already given himself, and he never demands a thing he will not repay. We will even receive back our dead.
When he placed his only son on the altar, Abraham did what we are told not to do: he put God to the test. Yet, his was not a test of doubt, but one of faith. It was not a demand that God submit to Abraham’s stipulations, but rather that God should uphold his own stipulations. For when Abraham placed his son on the altar, he was calling upon God to fulfill the promise: “Sarah your wife will bear you a son, and you shall call his name Isaac; and I will establish My covenant with him for an everlasting covenant for his descendants after him.” (Genesis 17:19)
There was only one way Abraham could offer Isaac as a burnt offering and still see the fulfillment of that promise. It was a thing never seen before on planet earth—a miracle far beyond the realm of human reason. Only faith allowed Abraham to believe it might be possible. For when Abraham placed his son on the altar, he was calling upon God to raise the dead. As the author of Hebrews writes, “He considered that God is able to raise people even from the dead, from which he also received him back as a type.” (Hebrews 11:19)
The test that Abraham put to God was no sin, for he was calling upon God to fulfill only that which had been promised. He was betting his precious son’s life on the integrity of God’s Word. It was the surest bet he could have made, for God alone is unchanging, yet it required the complete abandonment of human reason and trust in God’s revelation of himself.
Martin Luther once said, “The challenge of death comes to us all, and no one can die for another.” We may never be called to place a child on the altar, but each of us will be called to undergo the test of faith in different ways. Whether our children live for ninety minutes or ninety years, they will still need to be raised from the dead. One day, I myself will come to death, and in that moment, I will call upon God to fulfill the promise he made to me at the first: to count me righteous on account of Christ and raise me to eternal life.
God calls us to place things on the altar not because he is cruel, but because he is kind. Only by placing ultimate trust in him and his Word can we hope to undergo that greatest test of life and death. He will pry our fingers away from anything we cling to instead of him, for he alone is the rock, and all else is sinking sand.
What kind of God would demand Abraham’s son on an altar? What kind of God would place his own Son on the altar?
A God who raises the dead.
UPDATE: I have a new article available on the 1517 website titled, “Philip Melanchthon’s Most Formative Year.” You can read it here.
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All Scripture quotations are from the 1995 New American Standard Bible, copyright The Lockman Foundation.
oh Amy, thank you for sharing this with us all. From what you share here and my own experience as a parent I know how difficult it must be to go through. Thank you for sharing it and for sharing how you're processing it through Abraham's story as well. Praying for you and the family as you continue on this journey of faith.