Each time I read through the Bible, a different theme sticks out to me. In the past, it’s been the fearsome nature of God or the lasting pattern of Sabbath rest. It’s as if each time I travel from one end of this amazing tapestry to the other, a different color stands out against the rest, begging me to pause and see it and let it seep into me.
(This is one of the major reasons that I’m an advocate of reading through the Bible at a fast pace, and often. Learn more here.)
We are just beginning Leviticus in Bible180 2020, and the color that I can’t stop seeing woven through every scene and story and law so far is the color of God’s wildly generous grace. The deeper I wade into the story of the Bible with each passing day, the more this particular hue splashes over my understanding of every verse. Stories that I have read and studied for a lifetime have become new since I noticed, as if for the first time, the color of grace running through them.
One such story is one that I, admittedly, used to hate: Genesis 22, which my Bible titles, “The Offering of Isaac.”
Every interaction I’ve had with this chapter, whether in Sunday school or in a sermon or on my own, has left me with something like this as a key takeaway: WATCH OUT BECAUSE GOD IS GOING TO ASK YOU TO DO SOMETHING TERRIBLE AND IF YOU DON’T DO IT YOU’RE NOT A REAL CHRISTIAN!
I can still feel the fear and guilt sweeping over me from all the times, as a kid, I thought about what I would do if God asked me to literally sacrifice something I loved so much. I remember lying awake at night in tears of anxiety, afraid He would demand my sister or my parents or my horse. This story painted God as an cruel and unpredictable tyrant who could turn my life upside down on a whim, and if I protested, I’d go to hell.
What my painfully black-and-white child’s mind could not discern through the chaotic din of fear was that this is not a story about my performance under God’s tyranny, but about God’s wildly generous grace in the face of my lack.
God asked Abraham to offer his only son whom he loved, Isaac, as a burnt offering on Mount Moriah. Abraham rose early in the morning, packed the supplies, took his son, and obeyed. And yet when Isaac asks, “Where is the lamb for the burnt offering?” Abraham does not say, “You’re it.”
He says, “God will provide for Himself the lamb for the burnt offering, my son” (Genesis 22:8).
I have spent my life marveling at Abraham’s faith and courage to obey when the implications of that obedience were so heavy. I thought, “This is what it means to be a Christian—to be willing to do whatever it takes to make God happy.” I was wrong.
Abraham’s faith and courage don’t come from within himself, from a steel-willed determination to do whatever it takes. His faith is not set in his ability to pass the test. His faith rests, instead, in the generosity of God to provide for Abraham what he himself does not have to give: a lamb for the burnt offering.
This is what it means to be a Christian: to trust that God has provided for Himself the sacrifice that His holiness requires, because even the very best we have to give is not adequate.
Abraham was willing to give his only son, whom he loved—but God provided for Himself a ram in a thicket instead, a foreshadowing of the day when He would offer His Son, His only Son, whom He loves, for us.
Abraham called the name of that place The Lord Will Provide, as it is said to this day, “In the mount of the Lord it will be provided.”
Genesis 22:14
I have learned that following Jesus does sometimes test me beyond what I believe I can endure. But it is not a pass/fail examination to measure how well I perform and whether I deserve the name “Christian.” It is rather a testing by fire, as if of metal—it reveals what is in me, and purifies me of weaknesses. Christ took the ultimate pass/fail test when He generously drank the cup of death so that my standing before God need never fall into question again.
God is not an unpredictable tyrant, and that is exactly why Abraham could obey this unthinkable command. He already knew God’s promise to multiply Isaac into a great nation, so even as Abraham himself was being tested, his obedience counter-tested God to uphold His word. He knew God for who He is, and counted on Him to remain consistent with His character. It was never about Abraham’s special abilities or extra-strong faith or track record of obedience at all—it was always about who God is.
Wildly, generously gracious.