I am Abraham, father of many nations, though for most of my life I had no children at all. Let me tell you about the day God tested my faith to its very limits.
For twenty-five years, Sarah and I waited for the son God had promised. When Isaac finally came to us, he was our joy, our laughter, our miracle. He was the child through whom God said my descendants would be as numerous as the stars. I loved him more than my own life.
Then came the command that shattered my understanding: 'Take your son, your only son Isaac, whom you love, and go to the land of Moriah. Offer him there as a burnt offering on a mountain I will show you.'
How do I describe that night? Every fiber of my being rebelled against this command. This was my son. This was the child of promise. How could God ask this of me? Yet I had walked with God long enough to know His voice. I had seen Him keep every promise, even when the path seemed impossible.
Early the next morning, I rose and cut the wood for the burnt offering. I took Isaac and two servants, and we set out for the place God had told me about. For three days we traveled, each step heavier than the last. On the third day, I saw the mountain in the distance.
I left the servants behind. 'Stay here with the donkey,' I told them. 'The boy and I will go worship and return.' Even as I spoke those words, I held onto faith that somehow God would provide.
Isaac carried the wood on his back. I carried the fire and the knife. As we walked together, my son asked the question that pierced my heart: 'Father, I see the fire and the wood, but where is the lamb for the burnt offering?'
'God will provide Himself a lamb, my son.' Those words came from somewhere beyond my own understanding.
We reached the place. I built the altar. I arranged the wood. Then I bound Isaac and laid him upon the altar. As I raised the knife, my hand trembling, time seemed to stop.
'Abraham! Abraham!' The angel of the Lord called from heaven. 'Do not lay your hand on the boy. Now I know that you fear God, since you have not withheld your son, your only son, from Me.'
I looked up and saw a ram caught in a thicket by its horns. God had provided the sacrifice, just as I had told Isaac He would. I named that place Jehovah-Jireh - The Lord Will Provide.
In that moment, I understood something profound. My willingness to give up Isaac was a shadow of what God Himself would one day do. He would provide His own Son as the ultimate sacrifice, not holding back what was most precious for the sake of redeeming humanity. On that mountain, I caught a glimpse of a love greater than my own.