Judica Sunday
Genesis 22:1-14; Hebrews 9:11-15; John 8:42-59
In the name of the Father and of the ☩ Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
Before our Old Testament reading, when Abraham and Sarah went to Egypt, he lied. He didn’t lie in a moment of weakness. He planned out his lie and made his wife lie too. He pretended that Sarah was his sister. He was afraid Pharaoh would kill him and take Sarah anyway. So rather than trusting God’s promise, rather than protecting his wife, Abraham cowardly tried to save his own skin, allowing Sarah to be taken into Pharaoh’s harem. God intervened, but it’s shocking that happened at all. And years later, Abraham did the same thing with King Abimelech. He didn’t learn.
When God promised him descendants so numerous that they would rival the stars of the sky, Abraham argued back, pointing out that he had no heir. He grew impatient with that promise and had a child with Sarah’s servant, Hagar, instead. When God again promised Abraham a son, he laughed, not believing it. Your Father Abraham was a sinner, and Scripture does not shy away from showing us his sin.
So, God says, “Take your son, your only son Isaac, whom you love, and go to the land of Moriah, and offer him there as a burnt offering” (Gen. 22:2), and now Abraham is silent. He no longer argues with God. He doesn’t protest. He doesn’t bring up any sort of objection. Why is that?
He could have reminded God of His promise. He could have argued that according to God’s own Word, the Christ would come from the lineage of Isaac. God promised that. The everlasting covenant is through this son. That’s what I’d think Abraham would argue. But he doesn’t even bring it up.
Of course, we know from Hebrews that Abraham trusted the promise of a Savior so deeply that “He considered that God was able even to raise [Isaac] from the dead” (Heb. 11:19). So firm was his faith in Jesus, Abraham believed that if Isaac has to die, then God would just have to raise him from death, because the promise of the Christ runs through Isaac. So he trusts the promise. That’s an amazing faith.
But that doesn’t change the fact that, as far as Abraham knows, Isaac would die. You and I know how the story ends. Abraham doesn’t. Meaning, he’s thought this through. He’s considered what this will be like for young Isaac. His child would still have to suffer, have to watch his own father raise the knife. Do not think that because Abraham is silent here, that this doesn’t affect him. It weighs heavily. For three days, he has to imagine what the face of his young boy will look like when he realizes the horror of what his dad is doing. Abraham has to consider all of it.
But there’s something even more shocking, more heartbreaking about this whole account. The reason Abraham doesn’t protest is because he’s not wondering why God asks this. Have you noticed that? There’s never any question as to why the boy must be sacrificed. To us, it seems strange. We don’t understand why God would ask such a thing. We’re shocked by it all. But not Abraham. For him, it would have been obvious. You see, God doesn’t say to Abraham, “Take your son, your only son Isaac, whom you love, and go to the land of Moriah, and stone him.” He doesn’t tell Abraham to drown Isaac. He says, “offer him there as a burnt offering.” This is a sacrifice. And the reason for sacrifice is always sin. A burnt offering is for sin. The implication here is that the sins of Abraham need to be atoned for.
How crippling that must have been! Abraham doesn’t argue because he knows that he is guilty. He deserves this. He doesn’t try to hide behind any of the thinly veiled fig-leaf excuses we often have in our minds. He doesn’t argue that he’s not that bad a sinner, or that other people’s sins are worse. He doesn’t suggest that he’s basically a good person or that, because he’s sorry, his sins don’t matter. Abraham’s sins need atoning.
You know this. When a parent is having a bad day and unintentionally blows up, taking out their anger on a young child, bringing to that child’s eyes a fear of the very person who’s supposed to love them, when that happens, the parent can’t fix that by saying to the child, “I’m basically a good parent.” And it’s the same for you. The things you’ve said or done that you so desperately wish you could take back. You know. An apology just doesn’t undo your sin. Sin needs atoning. Abraham’s sins need atoning.
We just don’t like to think that Isaac should suffer for the sins of Abraham, that one person can suffer for the sins of another, that bothers us. But it shouldn’t. For that is exactly what happens at the cross. On Good Friday, someone suffers for the sins of another. The Son of God is punished for the sins of Abraham, and Isaac, and you. And that is how your sin is atoned for. Your sins cannot be fixed by you feeling sorry—you should feel sorry, you should be ready to apologize when you sin—but those sins need to be paid for and atoned, washed away in the Blood of Christ.
So God calls out, “‘Abraham, Abraham!’ And he said, ‘Here I am.’ [God] said, ‘Do not lay your hand on the boy or do anything to him, for now I know that you fear God, seeing you have not withheld your son, your only son, from me.’ And Abraham lifted up his eyes and looked, and behold, behind him was a ram, caught in a thicket by his horns. And Abraham went and took the ram and offered it up as a burnt offering instead of,” the wording is specific here, it’s in a transferred sense, instead of, “in place of his son” (Gen. 22:11-13).
There’s a sense of relief there, but it’s not the end of the story. We know that because Abraham named that place “The LORD will provide” (Gen. 22:14). Did you notice that? He was just given his son back from death. God just provided the substitute sacrifice in the ram. But Abraham doesn’t call it “The LORD provided.” He doesn’t use past tense, but future. The LORD will provide.
Abraham recognized that the ram was not the real substitute. The ram, like every sacrifice, pointed forward to Christ Jesus as the sacrificial Lamb of God who takes the place of Isaac, who dies for the sins of Abraham, who is offered on the altar of the cross for your guilt, your failures, for all the times when you’ve hurt those you love, when your attempts to make up for it just don’t cut it. When you’ve realized that you simply cannot fix your sins, they’ve cut too deep into those around you, the Son of God takes your place, and He takes the place of those you love. Jesus is the sacrifice for it all. And Abraham knows that. “The LORD will provide,” he says.
That day, God let Abraham see a glimpse of His own fatherly heart. Abraham knows a hint of what it feels like for three days to have to imagine offering up his son. He feels that agony and grief. That’s just a small glimpse of your Heavenly Father’s heart for His Son, Jesus. Abraham has an understanding, it’s so small but greater than we know, of what that’s like for the Father to offer up His own Son on the cross.
And yet, how does Abraham feel about it? Maybe you’ve been imagining this, considering how crippling this would be, how incredibly sad. This whole scene seems to be something deeply sorrowful. But how does Abraham react when he realizes what the Father in heaven will endure, what God will provide in time to come with the sacrifice of His own Son? I’d think Abraham would grieve knowing what the Father has to go through. But he doesn’t moan or sorrow. No. Jesus tells us exactly how Abraham felt.
You heard it. “Abraham saw my day and was grieved”? No. “Abraham saw my day and mourned”? Nope. Jesus holds up this about Abraham. “Abraham rejoiced that he would see my day. He saw it and was glad” (John 8:56). The day Abraham saw was the day Jesus would die upon the cross, when the Lamb of God would be willingly caught in the thicket of a thorn-encircled crown, and the knife would not be stayed. The Blood would cover the sins of the world, and the LORD would provide. Abraham rejoiced and was glad.
This is how Jesus would direct you into Holy Week. This is what He points out about Abraham. It’s what He upholds. So learn from Father Abraham. You have all sorts of sin, ways in which you have harmed those around you, ways others have harmed you. Don’t give excuses. Don’t think that you’re not that bad a sinner. You are. You need atonement. But that doesn’t mean you should go through life, dejected or sorrowful. The greater you realize the depths of your sin, the more you should rejoice over Holy Week. God provides a sacrifice for you in His Son. It’s a serious time of year to be sure, but the greatest expression of Christian faith is this: that you would rejoice and be glad over the atonement, the body and blood given and shed for the forgiveness of your sins.
In ☩ Jesus’ name. Amen.
The peace of God which passes all understanding keep your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus. Amen.
"If God is for us, who is against us?" 