New Writing

"In the Bible God called Abraham to sacrifice his son, which he obeyed, but just prior to killing his son God provided an animal to sacrifice instead. As a Christian I don't understand how God could require someone to kill their own child. Does he ask people of this today? I love the Lord but I know that I could/ would not be able to do this if asked. Does this mean I am not truly a Christian? Would I go to hell because of not being able to do it?" I provided a short answer to this question within the requested 150 word limit. Let me take a little more space here to answer this question more fully. The marvelous and mysterious story to which this woman alludes, is indeed found in Genesis 22 (and I have listed its text below). But note the woman's question. It is a bit muddled and includes more than one assumption which themselves must be carefully examined and considered. But before we do that, go to the text itself: The whole story begins with the narrator of Genesis telling us bluntly that God tested Abraham. The test was a very creative one. It was the kind of test calculated to determine if the Father of Nations would in fact give his first and greatest allegiance to God who called him and God alone. "Offer your only son whom you love as a burnt offering at a place I will show you." That's my paraphrase of God's command to Abe. Now, remember that Abraham was already accustomed to going to places he had not yet seen. That is how he ended up in the Promised Land of Canaan. God had said "leave your home, your family, and your birth place, and go to a land that I will show you." (paraphrased from Genesis 12:1. With regard to the story of Genesis 22, Abram had sufficient faith to obey at least the first part of this strange command. And yet we recall the decision of God which casts a clear light over the entire story. That is the narrator's introductory word that God is testing Abraham. The test itself is a fascinating one: Abraham had suffered much and waited a long time to see the fulfillment of God's original promise of a son from his own loins, and Sarah's womb. Now God was asking him to offer that one son as a burnt offering: that is to offer the fulfillment of God's original promise back to God. This act, if carried out, would necessitate in the death of his son Isaac. It would require in fact for the father to kill the son. This is the test (please remember that!). But as is clear from our text, Abraham passed the test without killing his son. He did so by showing that he was willing to carry out this command. Read the whole story and see how God sent his angel just in time to stay the hand of Abraham. And Abe, who was used to obeying commands of God by now, also obeyed that last one. In fact he even gives a hint that his faith in God is sufficient in the mysterious answer he gives to his son: "God Himself will provide a lamb for the burnt offering." (22:8) But will God test me in the same way? The short answer is no. God has already proven Himself and His integrity by allowing His own Son to die on our behalf. And the full testimony of the New Testament reveals the God of Abraham as a God of grace. He love us, has a good plan for us, and has promised us eternal life through His Son Jesus Christ. God loves all people and values all human life, because man is created in His image (Genesis 1:26). So God would not test a modern Christian by demanding such a sacrifice. However God does still test us! So we have to ask ourselves, will we trust Him enough (for instance) to tithe our gross income? Will we trust Him enough to move to a place we've not been before (sight unseen). Do we trust Him enough to accept into our family or church strangers of any age or people who do not look like us? These (and many other situations!) are some of the modern day "tests from God" which He administers to believers through His Son Jesus Christ. And with the power of the Holy Spirit we meet and even pass these tests. In short one really needs to answer such questions from the entire biblical testimony, not just one single isolated story. When we do that we realize that 1.) Abraham and his immediate descendants were archetypes of faith for us. That is they are prime examples of what God is doing for the whole of mankind; and they offer (generally speaking) the range of acceptable human responses to divine grace. And 2.) these persons, Abraham, included are not necessarily or always individual examples of how to behave in a modern, individualistic Christian way. The persons and characters in the Bible are a motley crew, living in different times and places. And though certain historical persons may have been strong examples of faith at certain challenging moments, that doesn't mean that God is always calling us to imitate their deeds to the letter of the scripture. So there are my comments! I hope you find them helpful. (And be thankful to God for the nice pictures which someone else took and made available for us to peruse at least temporarily).

Genesis 22 ¹ Now it came to pass after these things that God tested Abraham, and said to him, “Abraham!”And he said, “Here I am.” ² Then He said, “Take now 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.” ³ So Abraham rose early in the morning and saddled his donkey, and took two of his young men with him, and Isaac his son; and he split the wood for the burnt offering, and arose and went to the place of which God had told him. ⁴ Then on the third day Abraham lifted his eyes and saw the place afar off. ⁵ And Abraham said to his young men, “Stay here with the donkey; the lad and I will go yonder and worship, and we will come back to you.” ⁶ So Abraham took the wood of the burnt offering and laid it on Isaac his son; and he took the fire in his hand, and a knife, and the two of them went together. ⁷ But Isaac spoke to Abraham his father and said, “My father!” And he said, “Here I am, my son.” Then he said, “Look, the fire and the wood, but where is the lamb for a burnt offering?” ⁸ And Abraham said, “My son, God will provide for Himself the lamb for a burnt offering.” So the two of them went together. ⁹ Then they came to the place of which God had told him. And Abraham built an altar there and placed the wood in order; and he bound Isaac his son and laid him on the altar, upon the wood. ^{10 And Abraham stretched out his hand and took the knife to slay his son. 11} But the Angel of the LORD called to him from heaven and said, “Abraham, Abraham!” So he said, “Here I am.” ¹² And He said, “Do not lay your hand on the lad, or do anything to him; for now I know that you fear God, since you have not withheld your son, your only son, from Me.” ¹³ Then Abraham lifted his eyes and looked, and there behind him was a ram caught in a thicket by its horns. So Abraham went and took the ram, and offered it up for a burnt offering instead of his son. ¹⁴ And Abraham called the name of the place, The-LORD-Will-Provide;^b]">[b] as it is said to this day, “In the Mount of the LORD it shall be provided.” ¹⁵ Then the Angel of the LORD called to Abraham a second time out of heaven, ¹⁶ and said: “By Myself I have sworn, says the LORD, because you have done this thing, and have not withheld your son, your only son— ¹⁷ blessing I will bless you, and multiplying I will multiply your descendants as the stars of the heaven and as the sand which is on the seashore; and your descendants shall possess the gate of their enemies. ¹⁸ In your seed all the nations of the earth shall be blessed, because you have obeyed My voice.” ¹⁹ So Abraham returned to his young men, and they rose and went together to Beersheba; and Abraham dwelt at Beersheba.

Every once in awhile you find yourself in one of those awkward situations where everyone is looking at you. All the fingers are pointing at you (or at least a few of them are, and you imagine all the rest of them are as well). That happens when you get accused of something that you really didn’t do.

Why does this happen? Maybe because you are just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Maybe because you just set yourself up for it somehow by previous words and actions. Maybe because you just happen to have been born with a face that only feigns innocence and doesn’t do a good job at it. Or maybe (as in my case) it’s all of the above!

It happened to me in a big way the summer of 1976. I was working as a roustabout with Amoco Oil Company in Andrews, Texas, and “parts south”. That summer I was assigned to the gang truck of a happy Baptist man whom I shall call “Jack Trickman”. In retrospect I think of Jack was a fine Christian man, even though he did profess more than once to having “a love for beer” (off the job, of course). He was a committed lay person and deacon in his local Baptist church. Jack was also happily married to a pretty wife with several daughters, and loved dancing. But to me the most distinguishing characteristic he had, and the one for which I will most remember him, is his wonderful sense of humor. This quality made itself manifest in jokes, jibes, teasing, and in practical jokes. Naturally, I being a “wet behind the ears” college student, I got to be the brunt of a few of his practical jokes. Nothing serious, mind you! Just a trip or two to go and fetch a “board stretcher” or “wrench adjustor”. Mostly harmless stuff which would get me to laughing too – usually some time after my victimization.

But if Jack had a fault it was in not knowing when to quit on the practical jokes. He might not have had the best sense of whom to target with his pranks and quips. And that’s what got me in to a bit of trouble. (Oh, yeah: it got him into trouble too!)
For you see, there was this other guy. His name was “Big Tim”. Tim Dickinson was a unique fixture in our part of the oil patch, and he didn’t mind letting us all know it as often as possible. For Big Tim was an oil field electrician. Did you get that? Let me say it again: Tim Dickinson was an oil field electrician!

Now, you are all intelligent readers, and I am sure you heard and will remember what I said the first time. But I am repeating myself in print just to show you how often Big Tim also reminded us of just how special he was. I ran into him several times that summer and he was always eager to remind me that he was the only oil field electrician in that part of Amoco’s field! Boy, was I impressed! (Not really . . . .)

Not only that, but because Big Tim was a specialist at a rare trade, he earned a good deal more money than all of us other oil field rats, peons, and temporary scrubs. And how do I know this? Simple! Big Tim told me several times; or he told groups of people I was in, so I heard it too. Tim was very proud of what he did, and he wanted to make sure we were proud of him too. “Oil Field Electricians are scarce as hen’s beaks!” Tim would assert, getting the simile wrong. But if anyone knew the correct figure of speech, no one dared to correct him. Big Tim was tall and wiry, and looked to have been in his share of successful fights.

But Jack had other ideas. Jack was also very proud of himself: his Christian Church and position there as a deacon, his pretty wife and daughters, his status as a gang pusher, and of course his ability to come up with what he thought was a really good joke.

In this instance for Jack the best joke took place on a typical, very ordinary morning at the crew shack. It was our ritual to show up out at the work station by around 7:30 a.m. We would come in the crew’s lunch room, and sit down with a cup of coffee, or a soft drink from the big dispensing machine. There we would hobnob for a few minutes before the chiefs came in with our work assignments for that day. Big Tim had his own ritual as well: he would stroll in in his big cowboy boots and buy a large, ice cold Coca Cola in an 18 oz. glass bottle. Then he would take a seat – the same seat every day – at a wooden restaurant-style booth/table near the center of the room. He would place the tall glass bottle down on the table in front of him. Then he would wheel around in his seat and face the rest of the room full of men while he pulled out a long cigarette. Tim looked at other people around the room while he lit up his Marlboro Long and took a few starter puffs. (Oh, yeah: for you young people, you were allowed to smoke in the change room back then. No one worried about some damned old second hand smoke!)

So Tim would smoke a couple of puffs, then turn to dump his ash in a glass tray on the wooden table top; then he would take a long pull on his Coca Cola. He really enjoyed his little pauses that refreshed. Then he would continue to regale us with his tales of life as a superior employee with Amoco Oil – and all because he was one of the few trained, certified oil field electricians in all of West Texas, etc., etc.

But on that particular morning – I believe it was a Wednesday as a matter of fact – my gang pusher, Jack Trickman decided to play the prank that with a little luck would bring Big Tim down a few notches and take a good deal of wind out of his sails. He knew Tim’s morning routine as well as any man. So when Tim popped open his big Coke and then turned away sideways to puff on his “long fellow” Jack was ready. Quick as a snake, he snatched up the salt shaker from the center of the table, got the lid off with one quick twist, then carefully, but swiftly, poured at least two teaspoons of salt into Tim’s open Coke bottle. Quick as a wink, he screwed the lid back on the shaker, and turned away to start a conversation with a couple of guys at another table. I of course and a couple of others were sitting there in plain sight and had seen the whole thing at first with great admiration, then disbelief, and then – plain, open, terror! That’s because I was sitting right across from Big Tim, and when he discovered what had been done, who would he blame? You guessed it. And I knew it.

Meanwhile Big Tim was smiling and laughing at a remark someone else had made; he was completely oblivious to any shenaningans done behind his back. So, as we all knew he would, he turned back to his Coke, thumped his ash on the clear glass dish, and took a great big, swig of his precious Coca Cola. Almost instantly he knew this bottle was different than any he had ever had. His unsmiling face showed it. And then he knew why: someone had “got him, and got him good!”

I was trembling when Tim set his coke down because he looked at me with eyes of red rage. I knew what he was thinking: that I, a lily-livered college student, had “mugged his coca cola”. “You dirty, low-down, little college rat!” he growled.

Quickly I asserted, “Tim, Tim! I didn’t do anything!!” as convincingly could. I had an open, honest fact back then (which sadly disappeared with a bit of age and years of service as a pastor). He heard what I said but just barely; for by now many in the room had seen what Jack had done and were reacting to it the only way they could: with waves of heaving laughter and slaps to backs and table tops. It was the kind of laughter you offer freely to anyone whose come-uppance you know has long been deserved. And when you see that they finally get it, you yourself don’t hold it in since you have the opportunity to punctuate their particular “sentence”. In short, it was the kind of laughter I dare not indulge in in those moments, if I desired to live.

Tim Dickinson, angry as he was, quickly decided I didn’t have either the courage or the “smarts” to pull this one off, so he began casting around at the circle of laughing faces nearby to see who else might have assaulted his pride by violating his property. Jack Trickman was sitting caddy-corner to Big Tim and to his credit was just chuckling gently from the time the great discovery was made. Perhaps it was from that more restrained behavior as well as from Jack’s well known reputation that Tim quickly realized just who the guy was “who done got him and got him good!”

Just as quickly I was off the hook and breathing a sigh of relief. But as a matter of fact, it wasn’t until quite awhile later that I allowed myself to laugh good and hard at this incident. By then I was many miles and many years away from Andrews, Texas, Amoco Oil, and Big Tim.
I think on how quickly I was singled out for blame as soon as the “game came down” against Big Tim. I think too of all the months of hard work Big Tim had put in to earn that special “prescription” of some salt in his Coke. I wonder too today if any involved in that incident learned whatever lessons there were to learn. I don’t know. (For awhile there, I did learn to keep my head down and maintain the lowest possible profile . . . .)

But what I do know is that today, if ever I happen to see an old-fashioned salt-shaker and a bottle of Coca Cola sitting on the same table, I immediately excuse myself. I go outside and offer peals of loud laughter to God and the neighborhood. It’s my belated offering, and my reaction to a good joke, well earned, from long past. And when I come back inside, I politely shake my head with a straighter face and say, “No, thanks, Ma’am: no salt for my beverage please.” And I enjoy the blank stares and questioning looks.

LBC