What's your Isaac?

I keep hearing God whisper "Give it to Me, daughter. Surrender."

And I try; and I do... for a few seconds, that is. It never lasts.

I've looked for loopholes. My subconscious consoles me by saying that if I lay it down God'll reward my obedience by giving it back. But He's made no such guarantee and it's dangerous to put stock in that or any outcome. Faith at the mercy of what it receives is bogus faith. If I'm only going to surrender because I'm certain it's going to return then it isn't a true "sacrifice," is it? It needs to be unconditional. There is no bargaining with Him.

The illusion that anything "belongs" to me must be abandoned. Everything I have I owe to Another - it's His to give and take away. But I need to trust that He won't do anything unless it ultimately contributes to my success. God only denies us good things because He has something better in store. The pain of loss and heartache is temporary and it'll be replaced soon by a new joy; one that the old joy could never compare to.

I think of the song "Blessed Be Your Name" by Tree63 and the line that I've always loved because I identified with it so well:

"Blessed be Your name
On the road marked with suffering
Though there's pain in the offering
Blessed be Your name"

Just because it's a "willing" sacrifice doesn't mean it won't still hurt like hell. I don't have to give it up without feeling a loss; I'm not even sure that would be possible.

When Abraham took Isaac up in the mountain, did he remain stoic and resolute; emotionless? Or was he filled with confusion, overwhelmed with grief? Of course he was! Here was his son, the only child he and his elderly, barren wife had conceived after believing it impossible for so long. And now God was asking him to make a sacrifice of their boy.

God swore to make a great nation from Abraham's offspring and I'm sure in his humanity he questioned God endlessly on the journey. It all appeared to fly in the face of what he'd been promised. How in the world was he going to populate a nation if God took his only child?

Still, up the mountain went Abraham, Isaac probably lagging behind, wondering what Dad's problem was. He'd be distracted, jumpy; probably a little panicked. The plan made no sense.

Was he angry with God? Did he whisper silent curses to the deity taking away his life's greatest joy, the son he had waited and longed for?

When first he heard the command I'm sure he was pissed. He'd have railed against God for a moment, muttering about the unfairness of it all and cursing His name. But then... he would have wept and begged for another option. "Anything else, God. I'll give You anything else," he'd plead. "Just please... not my son."

But that was why God wanted Isaac. If anything was going to challenge His place in Abraham's heart it would be his beloved son. God needed to know how faithful he would really be, even when faced with a heartbreaking decision. When the rubber met the road, where would Abraham's loyalties lie? With his God? Or with his family?

The boy represented so much more than just a child. Sarah had been unable to conceive in a time when a woman's worth was judged by her womb. Isaac was their firstborn - a miracle - come after they had long since given up hope. And God had promised to continue Abraham's line through him; he would father a nation. Isaac had so much hanging on his young shoulders.

He was their life.

And God was asking for it back.

Abraham didn't know God would stop his hand. So if God never intended him to go through with it, why not just ask him out-right and then say "Good. Just checking!" when Abraham gave Him the thumbs-up?

Abraham waffled, that's why. After flipping God off and then weaping like a child, he accepted it... for awhile. But then he'd find himself going back and forth, his resolve wavering and returning constantly. Even on the path up the mountain he was still flip-flopping. He'd catch a glimpse out of the corner of his eye of Isaac walking alongside him and his stomach would drop. "I can't do this," he'd think. "How can I kill my only son?"

He didn't turn back, though. He chose obedience every step of the way even though his heart was breaking, even though it didn't make any sense. Moment after moment, Abraham made the choice to surrender. And the decision wasn't made just once - it was made over and over again, with each breath he breathed.

I hate surrender; I hate sacrifice. I keep trying to offer up something else instead because it seems like God always wants what I treasure the most. In comparison, everything else will seem like crap; something I'm willing to relinquish. But no. He wants that.

So I exhaust my vocabulary of cuss words at Him and scream as loud as I can; and then I collapse into a pathetic, sobbing mess on the floor, begging for mercy. But in the end I give in. And not just once but every single second that follows. I do it with red-rimmed eyes, swollen from crying and a heart that bleeds incessantly. It hurts like a bitch but I do it. Willingly.

Because it never was mine to begin with.

Sometimes I surrendered my Isaacs and sometimes I didn't. It's a choice I have to make regularly, whenever a new passion or goal or thing threatens to take my heart.

Each time it hurts to give up. But each time God has replaced it with something infinitely greater...

I have to trust that will never change.