Like a Lamb to Slaughter: Thoughts on Genesis 22 — Part 1

Robb Goodell
The Walk: The Extra Miles
10 min readNov 14, 2019
Ur of the Chaldees — credit Pixabay

A Controversial Passage — Gen 22:1–2

After these things God tested Abraham and said to him, “Abraham!” And he said, “Here I am.” He said, “Take your son, your only son Isaac, whom you love, and go to the land of Moriah, and offer him there as a burnt offering on one of the mountains of which I shall tell you.” (ESV)

Genesis 22 is perhaps the most scandalous and controversial passage in the whole of the Old Testament, if not the entire Bible. Opponents of Judaism and Christianity argue that Genesis 22 depicts both God in all of His cruelty, and the religious as represented by Abraham, in all of it’s blind, if not ignorant, faith. YHWH, they would argue, is an angry god looking for blood — and demanding unquestionable obedience. And Abraham…well he’s a crazy fool who would murder his own son just because the voice in his head told him to.

I think it’s fair, if only viewing on a surface level, to regard this situation as peculiar. What exactly is God asking Abraham to do? “Go up to the mountain and offer Isaac up as a burnt offering.” Essentially God is saying, “ You remember that son I promised you? Yeah — the one I said would be giving you all of these descendants through…you know…your legacy? -Yeah, I want him back.” It’s almost offensive, isn’t it? I thought God made a promise to Abraham. I thought he made a covenant…that He swore by Himself to uphold. So why would he ask for such a thing?

A modern retelling of this story might make Abraham a sort of a schizophrenic psychopath or God a tyrant. Devoid of context, character, and plot development — just dropping us into this story with out any point of reference might do that to you too.

On the other hand, those of us who have grown up in the church often revere Abraham as a hero and father of our faith; often overlooking his humanness, and in doing so, lose sight of his relatability to us and our lives. But as this story unfolds, there’s so much more richness that we can mine when we begin to know Abraham as Abraham was, and know God as God is.

Abraham: An Ordinary Man

First, it is important that we take into context everything we know about Abraham up until this point — including his relationship with the Lord. We spend a lot of time venerating Abraham as a man of great faith; and for good reason, mostly.

When we first meet Abraham, he is living in Ur of the Chaldeans — a bustling city center of pagan worship, commerce, and international power. A wealthy man, a man with his father’s inheritance but no children to pass it on to, Abraham was seventy-five when the Lord God suddenly showed up and said, and I paraphrase, “I want you to move to this strange land where nobody knows you, and I will give you an inheritance and descendants there, and they will fill the land.” So Abraham gathers his wife and servants and proceeds to move a thousand miles to the land of Canaan.

Along the way, Abram, as he was known then, and his caravan stops in Egypt. Fearing being killed because his wife was beautiful and much to be desired, he tries to conceal their marriage and claims that she is his sister — and what a mess that ensues! After Sarai is given to the Pharaoh, God afflicts Pharaoh and his house with plagues until the he returns Sarai to Abram wondering why Abram had lied to him about his wife’s identity. Here we get a taste of Abram’s true character…he’s a coward. What kind of husband tells the men of a strange country that his wife is his sister, just to protect himself? And yet, how many of us are more concerned with saving our own skin rather than following through on what God asks or commands us to do? (I’m raising my hand…you should too…)

Later, at ninety years old, God tells Abram and Sarai that He is going to give them both a son. Knowing better than God, of course, Sarai and Abram decide that he should sleep with the maidservant, Hagar, to bear a son for them both. Hagar gets pregnant, and, well…Hagar’s son is not the son God promised. Rather, God reiterates that Sarai will bear a son for Abram, and his name will be Isaac, and that through him, God was going to give Abraham so many descendants that he’d have to try and number the stars in order to get an idea of just how numerous they would be. Abraham (that’s when his name is changed) then LAUGHS at GOD! Abraham laughs in God’s face! That’s not exactly something I would recommend, by the way. Nevertheless, that’s not really a very heroic or pious thing to do.

I recap all of that to say this: Abraham was a normal guy just like you or me. Abraham has doubts and fears. He lied. He was anxious. He was often cowardly. Like us, this man that we trump up to be a hero of the faith was, well,…a sinner. And yet, when we get to this passage we so often throw all of that context out. We forget to fill in the character between the lines and quickly lose sight of what’s happening here.

Between the Lines

Allow me to say right here that is not my intent to say something that the Word is not; but I also don’t think it is fair to ignore truth simply because it is not explicitly stated. I truly believe that Abraham, despite his great faith here, was true to his own character, as all of us would be. I don’t think that it’s a stretch to say that between verses two and three that there is probably an awful lot of inner torment and dialogue going on, wouldn’t you?

As a father of a child who never made it out of the womb, and someone who has longed to be a father since, well I’m not sure how long, I think I can relate somewhat to how powerfully agonizing this request must have been for Abraham. If I try and step into this old man’s sandals, I can almost hear him weeping, saying in his heart:

“Lord — you are almighty God, and you have given me so much. Lord, I believe you and every word you say — so when you ask or require something of me, I will most assuredly obey…

But…my son, Lord? My son Isaac? The one you promised? Who you gave to Sarah and I…my son?

Lord, I have gold, I have silver…I have the finest clothes, I have all of this land…I own the cattle on a hundred hills. God, you could have asked for any of these and I would gladly and joyfully obey. Because I love you…and I trust you..but my son…my only beloved son…”

Can you feel the heartbreak? I imagine that all that Abraham had meant little to nothing compared to his son, Isaac. God calls Isaac the son, “whom you love.” God was asking Abraham to offer his most precious gift — his son of promise — back to the Lord as a sacrifice.

Whom You Love

As an important aside — did you know that Genesis 22:2 is the first place in the entire Old Testament that the word love is used? It’s a curious fact that we’ve gone twenty-two chapters and a couple of thousand years of human history before we read the word love in scripture, and it’s used specifically to name Isaac as the son whom Abraham loves. Rather than describing God’s love for His creation, for mankind, or even for Abraham, it instead used to show that God acknowledges Abraham’s love for his son.

More on this later, but I want you to recognize the significance of that statement — “whom you love.”

Faith and Obedience — Genesis 22:3–8

So Abraham rose early in the morning, saddled his donkey, and took two of his young men with him, and his son Isaac. And he cut the wood for the burnt offering and arose and went to the place of which God had told him. On the third day Abraham lifted up his eyes and saw the place from afar. Then Abraham said to his young men, “Stay here with the donkey; I and the boy will go over there and worship and come again to you.” And Abraham took the wood of the burnt offering and laid it on Isaac his son. And he took in his hand the fire and the knife. So they went both of them together. And Isaac said to his father Abraham, “My father!” And he said, “Here I am, my son.” He said, “Behold, the fire and the wood, but where is the lamb for a burnt offering?” Abraham said, “God will provide for himself the lamb for a burnt offering, my son.” So they went both of them together.

Back to the context: At this point, as confused and hurt as Abraham must have felt, one thing he could at this point in his life no longer question was the faithfulness of God. The same God who is asking him to sacrifice his son also asked him to leave Ur and promised to give him the land of Canaan — and He did. The same God promised to protect Abraham and Sarah in that land — and He had. He said they would prosper, and God made good on it. He promised them a son — and God delivered.

So, despite the fear; despite the questions; despite all of the very logical human responses to God’s request — Abraham gathers his son and servants, loads their donkey with firewood, and heads for the hills. Why? Because at the end of the day, Abraham knew his God, and he knew His God was faithful. Absolutely nothing illustrates that clearer than verse 8:

“Abraham said, “God will provide for himself the lamb for a burnt offering, my son.”

Feel, if you will, the weight of that for a moment. The significance of that statement, “God will provide for himself a lamb.” How profound. Abraham knew the heart of the Lord; that regardless of what God was asking, that He would still be faithful to keep His promises. He had to trust the Lord with his son, and with whatever would happen next.

What a stab to human logic. What destruction this does to the pragmatic faith we’ve all been trained to have. How many of us can say we trust God this completely? I’d say that many of us don’t because many of us don’t truly know the heart of our Lord. We’re about to find out more about who He is in just a moment.

The Lord will Provide — Gen:22 9–18

Before we go on, let’s stop right here. How many of us have been taught that Abraham is the hero of this story? I expect that most of us would — that’s the way this story is often framed. But I think this story is saying more to us about God than it is about Abraham. Let’s proceed.

When they came to the place of which God had told him, Abraham built the altar there and laid the wood in order and bound Isaac his son and laid him on the altar, on top of the wood. Then Abraham reached out his hand and took the knife to slaughter his son. But the angel of the LORD called to him from heaven and said, “Abraham, Abraham!” And he said, “Here I am.” He said, “Do not lay your hand on the boy or do anything to him, for now I know that you fear God, seeing you have not withheld your son, your only son, from me.” And Abraham lifted up his eyes and looked, and behold, behind him was a ram, caught in a thicket by his horns. And Abraham went and took the ram and offered it up as a burnt offering instead of his son. So Abraham called the name of that place, “The LORD will provide”; as it is said to this day, “On the mount of the LORD it shall be provided.”

Here we come to the climax of our story. If I were to imagine this as a movie, I picture it shot in that grainy 1970s exploitation film style. We see Isaac bound on a stack of fire wood. Abraham is pressing on his son’s chest with one hand, the other clenching a stone dagger raised high into the sky. As Abraham readies himself to do the terrible deed, the camera zooms in close to his trembling dagger filled hand — just before it’s about to come down — and BOOM! The voice of the Lord echos throughout the canyon, “ABRAHAM!”

We can’t know exactly how that felt — to have God stop your hand before having to kill your only son. It must’ve been equally terrifying, confusing, and a sense of profound relief. I can almost see the tears streaming down Abraham’s face when he turned around to find the ram caught in the thicket. I can almost picture the old man embracing his boy, picking him up off of the altar, cutting him free, and replacing him with the ram.

What profound faith! That Abraham would trust God enough to follow through with the unthinkable, knowing that God would provide for himself an acceptable sacrifice, and that the Lord was good to keep his promises. I don’t know that any of us would have been able to do this the way Abraham did; and for that, I understand why he’s considered a hero. But he’s more than that, isn’t he? In reality — Abraham is a type, as is his son Isaac. What do I mean?

We’ll find out in Part 2.

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