Have you ever gone an extended missions trip to a third world country? How long before you start to miss American food, the smell of a well-marinated hamburger on the grill, the taste of a creamy milkshake to wash it down? It's strange, but after awhile, even the lowest of all American culinary delights-fast food-starts to sound appealing. Or what if you were the next contestant on Survivor, forced to eat only coconut parts and whatever sea creature you could spear with a carefully whittled stick? How long would be too long? How much would be too much? Losing comforts and conveniences is one thing; losing a vital part of your life, purpose, or identity is quite another. But even that is still not quite the picture. Our subject isn't loss; it's the voluntary laying down of things that have become central to our existence.
Think about Abraham. Here is a man called out by God, promised to be the father of many nations. He leaves his hometown and embarks on a journey whose destination is unsure. After a creative but failed attempt to fulfill God's promise of a son, Abraham is old and discouraged. Then the miracle happens. His also aging wife, Sarah, gets pregnant with their first and only child. It is the promise child, Isaac. Imagine the joy that captures Abraham's heart. It is the moment he thought he would never see. Tears roll down his wrinkled face, creased with years of hardship and sorrow, as he holds his son in his arms. Isaac is tangible proof that the promises of God are true. Wrapped up in that little child is all of Abraham's God-given hopes and dreams, indeed, his very destiny.
And then God spoke. "Abraham." "Here I am," came the response. "Take your son, your only son, Isaac, whom you love.." (Feel Abraham trembling as he awaits the Divine command) ".and go to the region of Moriah. Sacrifice him there as a burnt offering on one of the mountains I will tell you about." (Feel Abraham's heart sink so low it feels as if he's buried in quicksand.)
No response. No question, no counterargument, no insightful comment. No response. The next morning came earlier than most. He gets Isaac, two servants, saddles a donkey and begins the fateful journey. A few days later, after enough wood had been cut (think about him cutting wood, knowing that each log is to fuel a fire that will burn his son!), Abraham makes an announcement. Seeing Mount Moriah ahead, he turns to his servants and says, "Stay here with the donkey while I and the boy go over there. We will worship and then we will come back to you."
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Experiencing Worship, The Study