Worship - Genesis 22

 

The bundle of large branches and small logs strapped to my back scratched with every step, but they didn’t distract me from replaying the events of the past few days over and over in my mind. My father had woken me early one morning and said we were heading out. This did not strike me as anything out of the ordinary initially, although the trip had been somewhat sudden.  But now, on our third day of travel, the journey had taken an unexpected turn.

When we left home, we brought a donkey, supplies, and wood along with two young men that worked for my father.  On this, the third day, my father tied the donkey, gave the two men instructions to wait with the animal and other supplies, and strapped this bundle to my back as we set off alone.  He carried the torch and I assume he had his knife always strapped in place, but beyond that, we set off empty handed.

His farewell words keep tumbling in my thoughts, “We will go over there and worship and come again to you.” 

 

Worship. What do I know of it?

We worship the God of creation. 

The maker of heaven and earth, the righteous judge as He proved himself with the flood, the covenant keeper, our shield, the holy I AM. Worship to Yahwah usually involves a sacrifice, a sign of repentance, surrender, and faith proven by our obedience.

Abruptly, my father’s words call me back to the present. “Almost there,” he encourages.

Almost there? We have basically been mountain climbing in Moriah and now, I guess, we have almost arrived. Somewhere. God has often been worshiped on mountains, so again this isn’t really surprising. And yet. Something seems not quite right. Something feels very different about this time of worship.

As we arrive we set about building the altar. Creating a pile of stones and earth. The sweat beads on my forehead and runs in rivers down my back as we work.  It slowly takes shape with the crude elements at our disposal.

Then it hits me, “Abba?”

“Yes, here I am, my son.”

“I see we have the fire and the wood, but what about the lamb for the burnt offering?” I asked gently, trying to remind him without offending his forgetfulness.

His simplistic response left me wanting to ask more, yet trying to have the same faith that he possessed, “God will provide the lamb, my son.”

Of course, I know God will provide. He always does. usually it is through work or gifts, but here in the middle of a mountain, just the two of us, how will God provide something that we do not have?

As we finished our way back to the altar with our final load of supplies, my father still did not seem concerned, and yet I could not quite shake the doubt. Then we stood there. He and I. Abraham, the promised father of nations, and I, his promised offspring. He took my hand and looked in my eyes and the depth of love there could not be mistaken, and yet, at the same time it seemed touched with something else. Sadness? Surrender?

His eyes spoke so vividly, the words remained unspoken as he bound my hands.

We were in this together. I could have resisted, lashed out, run. I stayed. Craving the depth of faith that poured out in my father’s calm decisiveness.

There I lay, looking up into the bright blue sky as clouds as vivid white as a lamb floated carefree overhead, bound and quite uncomfortable on the pile of sticks on top of the lovingly constructed altar. The smell of the burning torch nearby filled my nostrils as my father raised the firmly gripped knife over me. The look in his eyes.

He acted deliberately, like nothing else in his life had been done with this level of intentionality. The look of resolve in his tear-glossed eyes as he swiftly raised the dagger almost made me fear, cower. Yet, I knew God had the best plan.

And just as the blade reached its apex and would begin its downward plunge toward my life, a booming voice called out and immobilized him, “Abraham! Abraham!”

And again those words rushed from my father’s lips, “Here I am.”

God had provided.

 

Abraham may not have sacrificed Isaac on the altar that day, but he did sacrifice himself. His agenda, his plan, his script, his pride.

Worship is sacrifice, a sacrificing of self.

Giving time and items of value. We set aside time daily and weekly to worship through song, learning, and study. We surrender our finances and give to His work and His church. We hold nothing back out of selfishness or fear. Doing exactly what He asks of us with each item in our possession.

True worship holds nothing back. Not a dream, not a plan, not a material item, not a person, not ourselves. Prying our fingers off of anything within our realm of influence and releasing it to His will.

 

True worship is complete reliance on God to provide. He provides all we need in this life and the next. He gives grace, salvation, forgiveness, peace, joy, love, and faith. He meets physical needs and emotional needs. He is everything.

 

"The lord will see to it" is the literal translation of "God will provide." He has it taken care of. Erasing worry, diminish all doubts. God knows about all the apparent holes you seem to find in His plan and He has it taken care of. And, when we lay down all that we have and are in an act of worship, the blessing that follows is immeasurable. 

 

Peace, security, relationship. When we trust Him with all we are, He responds with entrusting us with much more. 

Pride sometimes sacrifices loved ones. Abraham's act was not one driven by pride. He was not seeking success or honor by proving something to God. Humility puts others above ourselves, allows them to experience God’s best. 

A question in my current bible study asked something along the lines of, "Which showed Abraham's faith more clearly? Leaving family and heading out into the unknown or sacrificing Isaac?"  I felt the question was impossible to answer. Both showed the kind of man he was. One not driven by self, but driven by obedience at all cost. Both times he stepped out unsure of the steps required, but confident of the final outcome. 

I want faith like that. Faith that walks with great hope and trust because it knows the One worthy of it all. Faith that worships in ways that might make no sense to the world around me, but in ways that use every part of me to serve my King. 

Lord, I worship You. You, the provider. You, who will see to it. You alone. Whatever you ask, because I can trust it will be right and good. Wherever you lead, because I trust your plan is best. No matter the cost, because the ROI is off the charts. All of me. In Jesus name, amen.