Here is a recent assignment that I have written for my Genesis class.
“Dear Diary,
Man, I feel like such a girl when I say dear diary, but the other day the weirdest thing happened to me. I don’t ever want to forget it; not that I could even if I wanted to. So, I need to write it down. It was freaky and fantastic all at the same time. It was traumatic while at the same time transformational. It took me a while to calm down and stop shaking before I really processed what had just happened.
So the other day Dad asked me if I would go on a trip with him. He said that we were going to a place called Moriah. I’d never really heard of it before. All I know is that he said it was going to take us about three days to get there. He talked about going to worship God on a mountain there. Seemed kind of crazy to me. I mean why did we have to travel three days away from home to worship God? But anyway… PJ and Omri, the servants, packed up the donkey, and we headed out to the land of Moriah.
The first night out was cold. Really cold. I didn’t sleep a whole lot. The fire died out midway through the night, and I was so cold I woke up. It must have been in the middle of the night because everything was quiet and still. It seemed like every little cricket and field mouse was sleeping, too. Everyone was sleeping except my dad. I woke up to find him sitting across the fire just watching me. It seemed that he was taking in my every movement, almost studying me. I shot him a quick look as to say, “That’s weird dad, go to sleep.” He just smiled back at me and whispered, “I love you. Go back to sleep.”
The second day was boring. Like really boring. PJ kept carrying on with Omri and my dad had very little to say to me. He said he didn’t feel like talking. He seemed to be talking to someone though; his lips where moving, but I couldn’t make out any words. So I just kept walking.
The third day is when everything got a little weird. Okay, that may just be the biggest understatement the world has ever heard. Things became very weird. I don’t know how to exactly put this but… my dad tried to kill me! Seriously. He did! It all started getting weird when he told PJ and Omri to stay with the donkey, and we were going to go on ahead of them. When he said this, I was like finally, these guys never shut up! I could use a little peace and quiet. I assumed that dad wanted the same quiet. The only downfall of that was I had to carry all of the wood on my shoulders. What I didn’t realize was that I would soon be tied up laying on top of that wood that I carried on my back with my dad’s huge knife to my throat. I mean if that doesn’t qualify me for a lifetime of counseling, I don’t know what does!
Dad told me all along that we were going to worship God on this mountain. As I realized our situation had gotten weirder I asked Dad where the sacrifice was. He said God would provide. I thought to myself, “This ought to be good.” Then it happened. Dad tied my hands and my legs and picked me up and placed me on the woodpile. With all kidding aside, I just don’t understand how placing me on the pile of wood had anything to do with worship. Honestly, that pretty much wrecked my view of God. I always thought that my family served a God who did not want child sacrifices. Did I get it wrong?
As my dad was readying his blade, there was another voice I’ve never heard before. I will never forget the sound of His voice. It was firm, quick, decisive and gentle all wrapped into one. You could see the look on my dad’s face when he heard it. It was familiar to him. He had heard this before. The voice said, “Stop, do not lay a hand on the boy or do anything to him.” The next while was kind of a blur. It became a bloody mess. God provided a lamb for my dad to sacrifice. The same knife that was ready to slide across my neck was indeed bloody, just as it was intended. Yet the blood was not my own. I’ll never forget the smell of the meat as it was burned on the fire that day. In many ways it was a familiar smell, but on that day it smelled even better than ever before.
Dad hugged me and cried big tears that I didn’t know a man could cry. His tears rolled down his cheeks across my forehead and onto mine as he pressed me tightly against his chest. He kept whispering, “Praise be to YHWH. Praise be to YHWH.”
God confused me on this trip. At first I was angry with Him. I was angry that He would make my dad do this. I was scared. But when I heard His voice say, “Stop”, I knew that there was something more going on. There is more here than I really can put words to. All I know is that I’m going to keep following whatever God says. When I looked back and saw the lamb behind dad, I knew that God had placed it there. God said a whole lot more to dad, and all I know is that it sounded good.
I haven’t really talked to Dad about it much since that day, and I doubt we ever really will. It was kind of awkward, you know? I had to explain to PJ and Omri that I cut myself shaving and that’s why there was the scratch on my throat. I don’t think I fooled them.”
Can you imagine being Abraham or Isaac? What do you think would have stood out to you?
~Peter
It is no secret at this point in time. I’ve been spending a great deal of time in the Psalms lately and it has been amazingly refreshing for me. Often times I find myself agreeing with the psalmist and saying to myself, “That’s exactly how I feel right now.” I feel like there is so much flesh on the Psalms. What I mean is, there is feeling and emotion attached to it in ways that most people can relate to. I can relate to some of the highs and to some of the lows that we find scattered throughout this book.