Life by faith: I am Abraham

“Abraham believed the Lord, and it was credited to him as righteousness.” (Gen. 15:6)

You celebrate me as the “father of faith.” I understand the theological significance of the title, but don’t for a second think it means I somehow had perfect faith. I didn’t. I faltered. A lot. There were moments when I doubted God despite the abundant evidence of His faithfulness to me. My fears, impatience, and disobedience led to imprudent actions that brought pain and all sorts of problems.

But in his mercy, God continued to reach out and assure me of his presence. I continued to follow and obey as best I could, and so my faith grew…

I learned that my relationship with God was not an equal partnership with partners having the same duties and responsibilities; it was a Master-servant relationship. Sure, it eventually blossomed into a friendship of sorts, but that friendship did not erase the unavoidable gap between us. He remained the Creator and I the creature. Walking with God would always be about my submission to His will; He did not owe me anything and I would never understand everything about Him. I struggled with this reality occasionally, but I accepted it. That was the essence of my faith.

He tested my faith often. The biggest test came when he told me to sacrifice my beloved son Isaac, the very one he had promised and given me.  The request was heart-wrenching but I obeyed. Some say I must have been crazy to even entertain the thought for surely God would never ask anyone to do such a thing. That’s partially true. Afterall, God did spare my son. But that opinion misses an important point about faith.

There comes a point in the walk of faith where what is unseen becomes more real than what is seen, where God becomes more real than anything visible and his word more certain than the most air-tight human contract.  At that point we see the things of earth, no matter how grand, majestic, or precious for what they really are—temporal and finite—and God for what he really is—eternal, powerful, and infinite. At that point, even if some fear lingers, we are ready to surrender all to him. I believe that’s the point one of your famous preachers reached when he declared, the day before his assassination, that it didn’t matter anymore because he had “been to the mountaintop.” It’s probably the same place where Jesus was when he rose from prayer in the garden of Gethsemane, ready to face the cross. I think that’s where I was when I laid Isaac on the altar.

To develop the kind of faith that obeys God completely even in the most impossible of situations, you must learn to obey him daily even in the little things. Obedience will sometimes feel risky or foolish but it is the price you pay for the kind of living faith and blessings no one can take from you.

The question of faith is, “will you take the risk?” I’m glad I did.