It was a long journey he had undertaken. He and his men had traveled for two whole days with hardly any rest. And now in the heat of the midday sun he saw the peak of Moriah rising above the horizon. Three, maybe four hours more. One would think he was glad they were nearing the appointed place for the ass was beginning to groan under the burden of the wood.

Glad? Hardly! The task ahead of him was immense. It burdened his heart like the death of a dear one. And it was exactly this that he faced.

They reached the foot of the mountain when the sun was at its fiercest point. He called for his men to stop and unload the wood from the animal’s back. But the burden remained. It had to be borne by someone. So one back was relieved as another was burdened.

He asked his son- a boy of seventeen- to carry the wood. Considering what lay ahead, he would have carried it himself. But he was too old, his back weak from his existence as a nomad. The boy would have to carry the load.

He told his men to camp at the foot of the mountain while he and the boy ascended it to worship. It wouldn’t be appropriate to ask them to witness what he was about to do. They just wouldn’t understand.

As he trudged up the hillside he realized that he too didn’t understand. Wasn’t the boy the son promised to him? Hadn’t God told him that through his son the whole world would be blest? Why this now? How could God do this and still fulfill His promise? The questions whirled around in his head endlessly when-

“Dad?”

“Yes.”

“We have wood and fire but where is the lamb for the sacrifice?”

What could he say? Of all the questions he could ask, why this one? His heart was torn apart as he gazed into the clear, innocent, unsuspecting eyes. Would he understand? Never!

“God will provide for Himself an acceptable sacrifice.”

Little did he realize the full impact of his words. They seemed to have been uttered without any thought on his part, as if placed there by One who knew the answers to all his questions- and his son’s for that matter.

They reached the top of the mountain and began making an altar. That done, they laid the wood on it. It was time for obedience and time to tell the boy his mission. But how can you tell your son that he’s to be the sacrifice on the altar he helped you build? How can you tell him that God asked you to sacrifice him? But he had to tell the boy all he knew. And he did.

The boy didn’t struggle but climbed the altar himself, aided by his father’s trembling hands. And he gazed open eyed as his father lifted the knife- gleaming in the sunlight. The sudden cool blast of wind was surprising, but he was comforted when he heard the angel’s voice, and more so by what the angel said.

The bleating of the ram was music to the ears of both father and son. The father untied the boy and went to get the ram. It was unusual for one to stray so high into the mountains. Yet hadn’t the whole day been unusual?

As they descended the boy asked his father, “What sort of God would ask you to sacrifice your son?”

Are you also asking the same question? Does this question trouble you? You needn’t be troubled for two thousand years ago God Himself answered it for you and for me. Hundreds of years after the incident this answer resounded on a hill outside Jerusalem:

“One of whom you could expect no less.”

(Written on Wednesday, 1 February 1995)