جارٍ تحميل الأرشيف الحي.
Part 3 of 4
Think Ahead
واصِل الاستكشاف
مرتبطة بالمقطع الكتابي أو بموضوعات مشتركة.
لم تُترجم هذه الصفحة بالكامل بعد. يظهر بعض النص أدناه أو كله بلغة English، وهي لغته الأصلية.
Many of us face overwhelming decisions in life. We want to get things right, but we're often uncertain about what "right" even looks like. Should I take this job? Where should I go to college? What does God want me to do?
This uncertainty intensifies when you're a follower of Christ and you're trying to discern God's will. We want to get it right, we're afraid of getting it wrong, but we're just not always sure what right is.
In our series "Think Ahead," we're looking at decisions we can predecide today rather than waiting until we're in the moment. We'll examine Abraham, who predecided to obey God.
Genesis 22 shows us the climax of Abraham's story. It says, "Some time later, God tested Abraham." Testing exposes an inner reality—it shows on the outside what's on the inside. God essentially says, "Let's squeeze him and see what comes out."
We know what it feels like to be squeezed: the medical diagnosis, the unexpected tax bill, the never-ending to-do list. Life closes in around us.
God called to Abraham, and Abraham replied, "Here I am." In Hebrew, this is Hineni—one word that appears 17 times in the Old Testament. When God called to Moses from the burning bush, Moses said Hineni. When God called Samuel as a child in the temple, Samuel replied Hineni.
But Hineni is not about location. It's about availability. Abraham is saying: "God, I'm totally ready to serve. I'm completely available. God, the answer's yes. Now, what's the question?"
Somewhere in Abraham's 40 years of following God, he realized that his greatest ability is his availability. If you want to be used by God, your greatest ability is your availability.
Abraham predecided, "God, I'm gonna obey. Now, what's the question?" Why? Because obedience leads you towards God, and disobedience drives you away from God.
Here was God's question for Abraham: "Take your son, Isaac. Go to the land of Moriah, climb the mountain, build an altar, put wood on it, and sacrifice your son, Isaac."
The next day, Abraham got up, loaded his donkey with wood, and set out with Isaac. They went up the mountain. He put Isaac on the altar. And as he reached for the knife, God stopped him.
God said, "Don't harm the boy. You've passed the test. For now, I know that you fear me more than anything else."
Why? Because Abraham had predecided to obey God.
I wrestled with this passage because I kept thinking: in this story, God audibly speaks to Abraham and tells him exactly what to do. I've never had that experience. If God told me what to do, I'd do it—or so I think.
I asked the first 40 people I encountered, "Do you want to do what God wants you to do?" All 40 said yes. Then I asked follow-up questions: "So what is it that God wants you to do?" The most common answer was, "I'm not really sure."
2 Timothy 3:16-17 tells us that "all scripture is God-breathed and useful for teaching, rebuking, correcting, and training in righteousness, so that the servant of God may be thoroughly equipped for every good work."
The inspired word of God is alive and active. Sometimes we open it and God makes clear what He's directing us to do: Love God and love your neighbor. Forgive other people. Love your enemy. Seek justice. Care for the people who can't care for themselves.
When God directs us clearly, we should do it. We're not just to be hearers of the word but doers of the word. Jesus asked in Luke 6:46, "Why do you call me, 'Lord, Lord,' and do not do what I say?"
Romans 8:14 says, "For those who are led by the spirit of God are the children of God."
If you are a follower of Christ and part of God's family, the Holy Spirit resides within you. One role of the Holy Spirit is to guide you. It's that still, small voice you hear in prayer. It's the presence of God in worship directing you. It's a friend in your life group saying something that aligns with what you read in Scripture that morning.
How do we know if it's God? We check it against His word. Does it line up with Scripture? If it does, it could be God. If it doesn't, it's not God.
About 10 years ago in spring, Life.Church asked my wife Katie and me to consider moving our family to Wichita to start a new location. My exact answer was, "No, Wichita sucks."
Fortunately, Life.Church graciously asked us to visit for a weekend. We drove up, unsure where to go, but we knew where the property was. As we came around the last corner, the most vivid rainbow I've ever seen appeared, terminating right in the middle of that property. The birds were singing. In the middle of the property, we found two coffee mugs with Jeremiah 29:11 on them—"We have plans to prosper you."—and two Life.Church t-shirts already our sizes.
We walked around and prayed. We didn't get a clear yes. We didn't get a clear no.
If you ever find yourself being grown silently by God, you're in good company. The Psalmist cried out, "How long, oh Lord, will You hide Your face from me?" Abraham had been following God for 40 years. The average person makes 35,000 decisions a day. Over 40 years, Abraham made 511 million decisions. Do you know how many times God spoke to Abraham that's recorded in Scripture? Seven times.
Out of 511 million decisions, God spoke audibly seven times. I'm sure God guided Abraham many times, but there were hundreds of millions of decisions where God grew him silently.
Consider Jesus. He was asked 183 questions in the Bible. Do you know how many He answered directly? Three. Out of 183, He answered three directly. The other 180 times, He answered with questions, told stories, or sometimes didn't answer at all.
Was He being unkind? Playing a game? Or was He doing something bigger?
I don't think God's ultimate goal is always to give us every single answer. With good intentions, I want to be a person who makes Christ-like decisions. That's good. But ultimately, God wants me to be a Christ-like person making decisions.
At the end of the day, God's ultimate goal is not information—it's transformation. He wants me to become more like Christ.
When we arrived in Wichita and faced an unclear decision, my wife asked, "So what are we gonna do?" I said, "You know what? Wherever we are, we're gonna love God and serve His people. We're gonna do what He's told us to do clearly."
Maybe God trusts us enough to let us choose. That's sometimes a frightening thought.
Here's what amazes me about Abraham's story. In Hebrews 11, Abraham is held up as someone who had great faith in God—and he did. But God also had faith in Abraham. He looked over the whole earth and chose Abraham to start His people. He said, "I want that one, because I've put inside of him what I need to do what I want to do in his world."
The same way God looks at you, teacher, and says, "I could have put anybody in that classroom, but I put inside of you what I want to do for those kids to experience." The same way He looks at you, parent, and says, "I could have made anybody their parent, but I want you to be."
God has faith in us, and we're called to have faith in Him.
I want to get it right. I'm scared of getting it wrong. But I don't always know what right is. The good news is that God does speak to us.
The real thing I kept wrestling with is the story itself. Genesis 22 is a troubling story. It's a story where God asked a father to sacrifice his son.
I tried to dance around it, ignore it, make it seem like it wasn't a big deal. But it's a troubling story. If you grew up in church or heard it before, it may have lost some of its rawness, some of its emotion.
I want to retell it and ask you to listen like you've never heard it before. Try to feel what Abraham must have felt.
Some time later, God tested Abraham... God called to Abraham, and Abraham said, "Hineni." God, here I am. God, I'm completely available. God, my answer is yes. Now, what's the question?
God said, "Take your son, Isaac. Your only son. Your son that you waited for 15 years for. Your son that you prayed for 15 years for. The son through whom I'm going to bless you and make you the father of a new nation. I want you to take your son, Isaac, go to the land of Moriah, climb the mountain, and offer Isaac as a sacrifice."
Early the next morning, Abraham got up. He loaded his donkey, cut the wood for the altar, and loaded it on. He and Isaac and two servants began to do what he'd done for 40 years—walk where God asked them to go.
For three days, they walked. Three days. That's not a three-day journey. He was giving God every opportunity to intervene. But God didn't.
After three days, they got to the bottom of the mountain. Abraham and Isaac went ahead, leaving the donkey and servants behind. Isaac was literally carrying the wood for the sacrifice on his back.
They walked up the mountain. Isaac looked at Abraham and said one word Abraham didn't want to hear: "Father."
Abraham replied, "Hineni." Here I am. Abraham wasn't only fully available to God—he was fully available to the people around him.
Isaac said, "Dad, I see the fire for the offering. I see the wood. But I don't see the lamb."
What do you tell him? "The Lord will provide."
They got to the top of the mountain. Abraham arranged the stones for the sacrifice. He laid out the wood for the fire. Then he bound his son—what most would say was a 12 or 13-year-old boy.
How do you do that?
He laid him on the altar and reached for the knife.
God called out, "Abraham, Abraham."
Abraham, for the third time, said, "Hineni." God, I'm fully here. Everything I have is yours. What do you want me to do?
God said, "Don't lay a hand on the boy. I've shaken you to the core, and I've seen who you are."
How can we obey a God who asks a father to sacrifice his son? How do we obey a God who allows so many troubling things to happen in our world? How do we obey a God who sometimes asks us to do things we don't want to do?
I have an older brother named Chris. Growing up, we were two years apart—he was always bigger and stronger, and we fought a lot. Usually I started the fights and he ended them, often by pinning me down and doing one of three things: thumping my nose, smacking my forehead, or attempting to spit on me. That's how I viewed my brother growing up.
When he was 22, Chris joined the military and became an infantry officer. Shortly after, he was deployed into combat. My family was terrified—not only was he going into danger, but he was responsible for 40 other men, most older than him and nearly all more experienced. A family from our church had a father who was one of Chris's commanding officers, and they began sending us updates about how he was doing.
I was shocked by what we heard. "Chris is doing great." Really? "Chris is a fantastic leader." Are we talking about the same Chris? "Chris's men refuse to go out on patrol until he prays over them." "Chris's men went to his commanding officer asking if he could stay with them when it was time for him to rotate to a new unit."
I didn't get it. When he came home, we sat around the kitchen table talking about his experience. I asked him what they did. He explained that sometimes they were asked to search houses. When they'd pull up, four people would go inside while everyone else secured the perimeter.
I asked, "You're in charge, so you must be on the perimeter, right? You need to observe and give directions." He looked at me like I was crazy. "No," he said. "I went into the house." When I asked where in the line, he said, "Second." I thought that was smart—a safety sandwich with people in front and behind. But he said, "Not exactly. Whoever goes through that door first surprises whoever's inside. If somebody's gonna get shot, it's gonna be the second person." And he looked at me and said, "So I went second every time."
In that moment, I saw something I'd never seen before. I saw what his men saw.
If you had to go into battle, would you follow him? Because I would follow him into battle. If he gave you an order as your commanding officer, would you obey it? Because I would obey it, and I don't even know what it is.
Then he pounded his finger on the table and said something I'll never forget: "Tim, I will not ask my people to do something that I'm unwilling to do myself."
How can we obey a God who asks a father to sacrifice his son? The story in Genesis 22 is about who Abraham is as a person. He's the type of person that when God speaks, he says, "Hineni"—here I am. But the story is just as much about who our God is. Because He's not asking us to do something He's unwilling to do Himself.
Isaiah 58:9 says, "Then you'll call, the Lord will answer; you'll cry for help, and he will say: Here I am." He will say to His people, "Hineni." I'm fully available. He's not just looking for people who are fully available. He's a God who's fully available to us.
The story in Genesis 22 shows us not only who Abraham is, but who our God is. Because it foreshadows what God did on the cross with Jesus.
As Abraham and Isaac climbed that mountain, Isaac carried the wood on his back. In Hebrew, the same word describes the branches and the tree—just as God allowed His son Jesus to have a tree strapped to His back as He carried the cross. When they got to the top, Abraham bound his son, just as God the Father allowed Jesus to be bound to the cross by nails.
But then as Abraham grabbed the knife, God stopped him. Abraham looked up and saw a ram in the thicket—God had provided a substitute. But no substitute would be provided for Jesus. Why? Because He's the substitute for you and me. He took our place on the cross.
I wanna do what's right. I'm scared of getting it wrong. But sometimes I don't know what right is. But here's what I do know: I know who's asking me to follow. Even when we can't see good in our circumstance, our God is good. Even when we can't see where He's taken us, we can see who He is—a loving, merciful Father.
The question for us is: are we available? Will we start our day by saying, "God, Hineni. Here I am. My answer's yes. Now, what's your question?"
