I used to hear stories of Abraham and Isaac. It seemed so crazy to me at the time. How could a father go to kill his own son? I used to sit in church and think, it was ludicrous. In my mind, family came first. Family always comes first.
It wasn't until years later that my son was born. My son changed my life from the moment he entered this world. I wanted to be a good provider for him. I gave up my dreams of dancing and decided to get serious about finishing my education. Each year he got older, I worried that somehow I wasn't prepared to raise him, so I would push myself to learn and grow. And when, he hit his teen years, I opened the door of hell, went back in time and faced my greatest fears, just so I would make sure the hurt and pain I felt, never would be reigned upon him. I would be the father I never had. I would build the relationship with him I never had.
So, after hearing the story for the billionth time, I laughed to myself, silently. I thought about how much my son meant to me. And I was honest with God. I said, "I am sorry, God, I will never be able to do that for you." Just then, he whispered back, "I know. But that's exactly what I did for you."
That felt so amazing to know this was the type of love God had for me. But at the same time, I always felt sad that I wouldn't ever be able to have the courage to sacrifice my son. To demonstrate that same love. I just knew I would never have it in me. Or did I?
Later, I would realize there was more to the story. Abraham had another son. Ishmael. He was the son, born from his maid. God had promised Abraham that his name would live on through a great nation. And when Abraham's wife grew old, Abraham took matters into his own hands. He followed a plan birthed in the mind of his wife Sarah and had Ishmael. The funny thing is, God delivered on his promise. God delivered Isaac.
So, what happened with Abraham's son? The son that came from his own planning. His lack of trust in God. It brought turmoil to his home. Eventually, Ishmael and the maid had to go.
Every man has one major struggle. It could be sex, drugs, alcohol. One major struggle. It is man taking control. Numbing the pain. Delivering comfort. Providing control, freedom, happiness, power, fame, relationship. Not in God's time, but in man's time. And what happens? Eventually God delivers the comfort, the love, the peace, the grace. He delivers. He always does. But the fruit from man's choice has already grown weeds. And eventually, man must make the decision to sacrifice his son. His baby. The sex that thrills. The drugs that blow the mind. The alcohol that offers comfort. And I whisper, "Yes, God, I will sacrifice my son for you." I just didn't understand.
And the two sons cannot live in the same household. And they both seem good. They both feel good. But you must live in the one son, as it is part of you. "The way seems right in your eyes, but it leads to destruction." You must live in the son that is good (or seems good), and say to the other son, "You must increase and I must decrease."
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