Still wrestling down that elephant in the room

Let’s continue looking at that elephant in the room. Last week I noted that Chuck Swindoll nailed it when he said, “Sometimes people and things can become too important to us. We grip them with closed fists and white knuckles, and God has to pry open our fingers to loosen our hold.” (Abraham, The Friend of God) 

God was trying to pry open my fists so I’d hold my young adult children less fiercely. And it hurt. Oh, yes, it hurt! 

But God asked many people before me to loosen their grip on their kids, too. 

Think about Abraham. 

At first it makes no sense that the God of grace, the God of mercy, comfort, and unfailing love would ask Abraham to offer his son Isaac as a burnt offering (Genesis 22:2). 

God had promised Abraham this son, Isaac. God had promised descendants through Isaac—as many as the stars in the heavens. He’d promised to make Isaac’s descendants into a great nation and give them the Promised Land. He’d said that all people on earth would be blessed through Isaac. 

And yet God wanted Abraham to put Isaac to death? 

Now, God and Abraham had already enjoyed a long, close relationship, the type illustrated in Genesis 17:3—when God appeared before him, Abraham fell on his face. 

“Note the times when Abraham did not speak before God but remained silent before Him—not sullen, but silent. Awe is just that—reverential dread and wonder. . . . Awe is the condition of a man’s spirit when he realizes who God is and what He has done for him personally. . . . 

“Abraham’s posture is an expression of deep humility, trustful confidence, and pure joy—the characteristics of faith in God." (Oswald Chambers, Not Knowing Where; [emphasis added]). 

That’s important information. God made His request within the context of a trusting, personal relationship. 

The NIV study Bible note for Genesis 22:2 reads: “Abraham had [previously] committed himself by covenant to be obedient to the Lord and had consecrated his son Isaac to the Lord.” 

Given that, God’s request of Abraham seemed based on, and a result of, Abraham’s willingness to “walk the talk,” to follow through on his covenant and commitments. 

One key to understanding God’s bizarre request is the burnt offering. The NIV Study Bible explains: “The Hebrew word for ‘offering’ used here [Leviticus 1:2-3] comes from the word translated ‘brings.’ An ‘offering’ is something that someone ‘brings’ to God as a gift (most offerings are voluntary, such as the burnt offering). . . . Anyone could offer special burnt offerings to express devotion to the Lord.” An NIV Study Bible chart defines burnt offering as a voluntary act of worship, an expression of devotion, commitment, and complete surrender to God [emphasis added]. 

God asked Abraham if he’d offer up Isaac voluntarily, as an act of worship, as a gift, as an expression of his devotion to Him. 

“The Lord put his servant’s faith and loyalty to the supreme test, thereby instructing Abraham, Isaac and their descendants as to the kind of total consecration the Lord’s covenant requires” (NIV Study Bible note for Genesis 22:2). 

“The very nature of faith is that it must be tried; faith untried is only ideally real, not actually real. . . . God proved Abraham’s faith by placing him in the most extreme crisis possible, for faith must prove itself by the inward concession of the believer’s dearest objects.” (Oswald Chambers, Not Knowing Where) 

God asked Abraham, as part of their covenant, to give Him his dearest and best so He could give Abraham gems and buried treasure: His better. 

This was God’s supreme test of Abraham’s faith and loyalty. 

This was a pivotal point in Abraham’s life. He could do what God asked, or he could pretend God had not spoken. 

Abraham was about to discover if indeed God was his first priority. 

And as for me: God was offering me a glimpse into whether or not He was my first priority.

 

“Closed fists and white knuckles”

 

I’m still trying to bring down The Elephant in the Room.

 

“Sometimes people and things can become too important to us. We grip them with closed fists and white knuckles,” Chuck Swindoll writes, “and God has to pry open our fingers to loosen our hold. Perhaps that’s how it was between Abraham and Isaac.” (Abraham, The Friend of God)

 

Swindoll also writes:

 

“There are times when we look up full-hearted and prayerfully say, “O, Lord, in this crisp, clear, beautiful moment, You have everything that I own. You have all of me. There is nothing, nothing that I hold back.”

 

“It’s amazing how soon after those times of commitment God seems to require something sacred in our lives that puts us to the test.”

 

I know what he means. In a recent post, and in Chapter 2 of Grandma’s Letters from Africa I wrote of my grief over God’s request to leave my kids (and future grandkids) and move to Africa—and yet . . .

 

. . . And yet, I thought of the times I had felt God’s tug, and the accompanying pain in my heart, while I sang the words—sincerely, I thought—“Love so amazing, so divine, demands my soul, my life my all.” (When I Survey the Wondrous Cross, Isaac Watts and Lowell Mason)

 

Had I really meant those words?

 

My all? Even my children?

 

While God waited for my answer, I thought about the summer of my 15th year when our youth director challenged us to commit our lives one hundred percent to God. A few kids went forward but I remained in my chair, weighing what that commitment might entail.

 

I recognized I could neither see into the future nor fully comprehend God’s ways, and yet, after a few minutes of intense thought and prayer, I stood and walked forward. I really meant it—at the time.

 

And now God was offering me an opportunity to see if I still really meant it.

 

Though I didn’t understand it at the time, God was offering me a gift, offering to bring my faith, trust, and love for Him to a higher, deeper, broader level.

 

Accepting His gift, however, meant I had to sort through my entangled loyalties.

 

Recently I ran across notes I took while listening to Chuck Swindoll’s radio program around that time:

 

“God might be saying, ‘I want the Isaac of your life, without reservation, and I will show you step by step why I want your Isaac. You struggle because you’re unwilling to give God something you cherish. God wants first place in your life so He can arrange it the way He wants and so that you may be supremely happy.”

 

That “supremely happy” Chuck referenced has nothing to do with worldly happiness, material possessions, status, a guaranteed income, a comfortable life, an easy life, or even safety from dangers.

 

It has everything to do with the happiness that comes from letting God have first place in our lives—as much as we are humanly able.

 

We cannot love Him perfectly, 

we cannot give Him first place in our lives perfectly, 

but God knows that we’re mere humans 

and is quick to extend us His mercy and grace. 

He’s looking not for perfect people, 

but for people after His own heart. 

(Click on Becoming A Man or Woman After God’s Own Heart; 

see also 1 Samuel 13:14 and Acts 13:22.)

 

More on this next week. We’ve almost wrestled that elephant to the ground!

 

Assuming our love for God is ENOUGH and our grip on family and dreams is loose ENOUGH

We North Americans build our lives around our homes, possessions, spouses, children, friends, careers, income, health insurance, retirement plans, bank accounts, investments, dreams, and plans for the future. 

We call it pursuing “The American Dream.” 

If someone or something threatens our pursuit, we get mad, fall apart, feel victimized, cry “Unfair!” and feel cheated out of our rights. 

God asks us, however, to hold them loosely, and for good reason—so that He can occupy first place in our lives. 

Both the Old Testament and New Testament tell us: 

“Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength” (Mark 12:30, Deuteronomy 6:4-5). 

The Message puts it this way: “Love the Lord God with all your passion and prayer and intelligence and energy.” 

Usually, we estimate that our love for God is enough and that our grip on loved ones, treasures, and dreams is loose enough. 

But because God’s ways and thoughts are so different 

and so much higher than ours (Isaiah 55:8-9), 

sometimes He whispers, “Your grip is still too tight.” 

God isn’t mean-spirited. No, the point is this: He has something better for us, something that would leave us utterly amazed, things we wouldn’t believe even if we were told (Habakkuk 1:5).

But God lets us decide 

whether we want His something better. 

Sometimes, to help us decide, God puts us to the test, for both His sake and ours. Our decisions reveal to God—and to us, if we’re willing—the status of our faith in, and commitment to, Him. 

God put many of our heroes and mentors to the test, including our dear Old Testament role model, Abraham.  

God asked him to do the incomprehensible—unthinkable—unimaginable: He asked Abraham to place his beloved son, Isaac, on an altar and sacrifice him as a burnt offering (Genesis 22:1-2).  

Do you think Abraham staggered at the request? I do. 

Abraham played a key role in my eventual willingness to leave my very-young adult children and move to Africa, but let me hasten to make this clear: Unlike God’s request of Abraham, God wasn’t asking me to put my children to death. 

It took a while to figure out what God was asking of me and my kids, but here’s what I slowly began to understand: 

God was asking me to let go of my kids 

and place them in His hands, 

and then asking me to die to 

the dreams and plans I had as mother to my kids 

and grandmother to their kids. 

And yes, I staggered at God’s request. 

Back then, before I began to see more clearly what God was up to, He and I were in a monumental battle of the wills. He was pointing me toward Africa, but I was digging in my heels. 

In most situations, I wouldn’t have put up such a fight, but when it came to what was best for my kids—well, that was a different story. 

I felt no peace—none!—about leaving them. I just couldn’t shake the belief that they needed their parents to help them transition out of college and into adulthood. 

Those were dark days: It felt like God was asking me to walk away from my kids before I had finished the job He had given me: to raise them—and raise them well. 

Everything within me cried out that it wasn’t right! 

At the same time, I was not at peace about stomping my foot and saying “No!” to God. 

I needed to reorient my thinking, to recognize that God was offering me His something better. 

In coming weeks we’ll ponder what God asked Abraham to do, and why, but for now, what about you? 

Is God asking you to do something incomprehensible, unthinkable, unimaginable?  

Are you staggering from the enormity of it all? 

Could it be that He is asking you to give up to Him your best so He can give you His better? Something that will leave you utterly amazed, things you wouldn’t believe even if you were told? (Habakkuk 1:5)