The gist of the story goes like this: God told Abraham to go kill his son, his only son, the son of promise and offer him as a sacrifice. Abraham goes. (Geneses 22)

God ultimately stopped Abraham before he sliced the knife across Isaac’s throat, but that hasn’t kept that knife from stabbing away at me. In frustrating irony, this story of deep faith takes me to the brink of overwhelming doubt. In the wake of this dark story my mind floods with contradiction and frustration. It seems so wrong.

What was God thinking? What a hideous test of faith! How can you play with a father’s emotions and moral sensibilities just to prove a point? He commands Abraham to enter a ritual only practiced among the barbaric cultures of paganism. How could you really blame Abraham had he screamed at God, “Forget you! You’re not who I thought you were if this is how it’s going to be! Take your promise and leave me alone.”

Did Abraham understand something I don’t? He had to.

Exploring this question has eased some of the angst that I feel trying to reconcile my confusion and outrage over God’s request to have Isaac sacrificed. I have discovered that the contradictions and bewilderment incited by this account eventually shrivel against the reality of a God who raises the dead. Honest reflection reveals the acceptance of this reality to be the ace card Abraham had up his sleeve. “He considered that God was able even to raise him from the dead” (Hebrews 11:19).

Maybe Abraham was incensed at the order of God. Surely his head spun in a whirl of moral dilemmas. Didn’t matter. The insight we have from the writer of Hebrews suggests that no matter what preposterous conclusions could be drawn from God’s actions, Abraham’s operative reality was that God raises the dead. This functional belief directed and informed every decision of Abraham’s life. Even apparent absurdities and possible moral failure connected to God weren’t able to overturn the astonishing truth that God raises the dead, which above all else solicits faithful allegiance. That lens cleared the blurry appearances of Abraham’s world and enabled him to see from God’s perspective.

Paul also connects the fundamental acceptance of God’s ability to raise the dead to Abraham’s incredible, head-spinning faith. He writes that Abraham persisted “in the presence of the God in whom he believed, who gives life to the dead and calls into existence the things that do not exist. In hope he believed against hope, that he should become the father of many nations, as he had been told” (Romans 4:17-18). Abraham wasn’t crazy, just able to see beyond temporal illusions.

Once clutched by the historical certainty of Jesus’ resurrection, Paul possessed the same vision as Abraham. He wrote in 2 Corinthians 1:8-9, “For we do not want you to be ignorant, brothers and sisters, of the affliction we experienced in Asia. For we were utterly burdened beyond our strength that we despaired of life itself. Indeed, we felt that we had received the sentence of death. But that was to make us rely not on ourselves but on God who raises the dead.” Paul confidently stared into the hollow eyes of death because of his pledge to the deeper truth. He leaned heavily upon the tangible implications of Jesus’ resurrection and so pursued Jesus relentlessly in spite of the supposed irrationality of it all (1 Corinthians 15).

Human existence since the fall has thrown some nasty things at us. Evil and chaos show up in such ways that cynicism can take over our lives. Relativism and nihilism emerge as viable options. What can God do? Look at the world and its mess, where is he? In fear, we begin to react to such confusion. Our humanity slips away. We run scared as fast as we can into the abyss of despair and hopelessness. We live out our days numbing ourselves to a dysfunctional society we can’t or don’t want to confront.

The mind can’t answer it’s own questions. We “common sense” ourselves right out of following God. What works often supersedes discipleship. Love doesn’t work so we hate and manipulate. Peace makes little sense so we fight. Integrity gets us nowhere so we cheat and steal. Guilt takes over so we kill it with drugs and decadence.

Why? Because we’re scared and not sure what we’re scared of…just scared. Scared to follow the pathways of our confusion. Scared to run into what’s behind all this mess. But if Abraham and Paul have a word for us, it is hope. Hope in a truth too often shrouded in fear. If they have a command for us then, it is “Do not fear!” Do not fear because of the hope anchored in a God who raises the dead.

So from the dark oblivion of this dim vision a beam of light breaks through.

The monsters that frighten us scurry to darker corners. Death slowly loses its leverage. As the light begins to disperse its way throughout the darkness, we start to see things for what they are. The vision of a God who raises the dead comes into focus. We see what Abraham saw. We squint through Paul’s eyes at the open arms of the resurrected Messiah.

But I suppose now, as these views collide, we stand on a mountain somewhere in Moriah with a knife in one hand and choice to make. All our senses and wits tell us to run. Our blood pressure rises as fear regroups. We sigh at the palpable contradictions imposing their demands for practicality. We question just what in the name of God is going on. It is in this moment God asks us to consider his perspective.

I raise the dead. Don’t fear. Follow me.

If we do, we will see to begin crawling our way out of the abyss of confused intuitions and misguided apprehensions. We will, no matter what seems to be, follow that truth: I raise the dead, do not fear.

About joshlinton

you can learn a little about me at joshlinton.net.