Here I Am

Genesis 1–15 gives a pretty great overview of the stage that God is trying to set for the story that He is telling.  The goodness of creation and His love for it (including you).  The invitation to rest.  The tragedy that is the human story, insisting that there must be more — more to produce, more to prove, more to do in order to be accepted.  God's reaffirmation of the story.  Man's continued tragedy of mistrust.  Finally meeting Abram, a man who will trust the story of God and a man that is able to serve as God's sidekick for restoration.  Abram's trust in the midst of the struggle.  God's reaffirmation of His love for Abram.

However, if we don't start picking up the pace a little bit, we're still going to be studying Genesis when my toddlers graduate high school.  (Sounds like fun, right? Alas, there is so much more of God's narrative to explore.)  So, I'm going to start skipping chunks of the story in order to keep the pace moving.  We're going to skip the Hagar and Ishmael story (hint: the Hebrew word “to look” or “to see” is crucial there), the covenant of circumcision (doesn't seem right, does it?), the whole Sodom and Gomorrah debacle (that's an entire blog series just waiting to be written), and jump right up to Genesis 21.

Take a few minutes to read Genesis 21–22.

The point would stand out even more if we had been reading the context of Genesis 16–23, but if you're using your working imagination as you read these two chapters, you realize that something seems terribly off chronologically.  Did it seem that way to you?

Ishmael was born in Genesis 16 and then we are introduced to the birth of Isaac some five chapters (and many would say 13 years) later.  However, when I read the Ishmael story in chapter 21, I get this distinct sense that Hagar is working with a little child.  While there is nothing in the Text that tells us this is the case, I haven't met too many readers that picture Hagar laying a 13-year-old youth under a shrub.  On the other hand, Isaac is born at the beginning of chapter 21 and then seems to be considerably older in the proceeding story (many readers, myself included, often picture a 13-year-old youth). 

It's as if the author of Genesis wants you to question the placement of the two stories.  While the stories don't technically fall out of chronological order, there is this chronological uneasiness to how they read. 

Could this be done on purpose?

This will be the first time that we run into this Hebrew writing tool.  An Eastern author will often place two stories right next to one another on purpose, in order to draw your attention to the interplay between the two stories.  The author is wanting you to see the two stories as one story in order to find the treasure that is buried within.  We will see this tool used again later in Genesis.  (Challenge: Can you guess where?)

But again, just as we did earlier, let's make sure that we're not jumping to conclusions based on theories about literary techniques.  If our theory is correct, then the way these two stories read is simply a flag to catch our attention and there will be plenty of other indicators the moment we begin digging.  And, in fact, we find this is the case here in these two stories.  If you read the two stories side by side, it is easy to spot specific (and chronologically-ordered) parallels connecting and tying the stories together.  Here are five that I find the easiest to catch.

Early the next morning Abraham… (21:14a)
Early the next morning Abraham… (22:3)

Abraham sets the supplies on Hagar  (21:14b)
Abraham sets the supplies on Isaac  (22:6)

Hagar puts the boy under a bush  (21:15)
Abraham puts Isaac on the wood  (22:9)

Hagar looks up to see a well  (21:19)
Abraham looks up to see a ram  (22:13)

Hagar story ends with a covenant  (21:22-34)
Isaac story ends with a covenant  (22:15-19)

The stories are meant to be linked by the author.  But why?

So what are our questions?  What are the things that bug us?

Obviously, there are a lot of things that bug us about these two stories.  It's not easy to read stories about the dysfunction of families, the rejection of maidservants, and the death of children and not be bothered.  But one of the things that bothers us about Hagar is her decision just to leave the boy under the bush.  Every mother I've ever talked to is bothered by Hagar's actions.  By the way, did you notice how far away Hagar went when she left her child?  About a bowshot.  And what did Ishmael become when he grew up (what appears to be a completely irrelevant issue)?  An archer.

You don't suppose that the author is trying to say that the decisions of a mother affected the development of her child, do you?  But I digress…

SIDE NOTE: As we talk about Abraham, it should be noted that we should be bothered by Abraham's willingness to sacrifice his son.  Growing up in the church, I cannot tell you how many times I heard Abraham praised for his faith because of his willingness to kill his son.  Not once was that called into question.  Not once was I invited to say, “No… wait!  This is a horrible thing!  What kind of God asks you to do this?  Don't do it, Abraham!  It's not right!”  It should be noted that willingness to engage in child sacrifice is not a commendable character trait.  Therefore, we would be driven to learn a lesson from context.  Why does Abraham not object — not even once, not even a little — to God's request?  Quite simply, because EVERY god that Abraham had ever known had demanded child sacrifice.  Every god in the lands of the pagans asked for your firstborn child on some level.  This was normal.  So when God asked Abraham for his firstborn son, it doesn't strike Abraham as odd.  In fact, this story isn't about Abraham's willingness to sacrifice his child at all.  It's about the lesson that God wants to teach him from that place.

And so the thing that bothers us about Hagar is her willingness to abandon her child.

And we turn our sights toward the Abraham story.

And if you read Genesis 22, you may have made a mental note.  Did you hear anything redundant?



Such as a call from heaven?

At the beginning of the story, God calls to Abraham, “Abraham, Abraham!” and Abraham responds, “Here I am.”

At the end of the story, the angel calls out, “Abraham, Abraham!” and Abraham responds, “Here I am.”

Indeed, we have a chiasm on our hands again.

And in order to make this blog post short enough to read, let's skip right to the center.

As Abraham walks along, up the mountain with Isaac, the thoughts of what he is there to do weigh heavy on his mind.  I often ask my students, “What is Abraham's demeanor as he walks up the mountain?”  And the immediate answers are always, “He's weeping.  He's visibly angry.  He's shaken and distressed.”  But there is no way that Abraham is wearing that emotion on his sleeve.  If Abraham is weeping, it is going to provoke a conversation with his son that he's not ready to have.

And so Abraham talks about the ball game that was on last night.  He talks about weather.  He talks about anything that allows him to disengage from the situation at hand.  The seventh verse says, “Isaac spoke up…”  The Hebrew uses language there to suggest that Isaac interrupts a conversation.  As much as Abraham might be trying to avoid the situation, he is interrupted with the very word he doesn't want to hear.

“…Daddy?”

And now, Abraham finds himself in the exact same moment that Hagar found herself in with the previous story: The son's imminent death.  It's fight or flight time.  What will Abraham do?  Hagar fled the scene — abandoned her son.

Do you know what the middle verse of the chiasm is?

Your wonderful NIV translates it, “Yes, my son?”

The Hebrew is “HERE I AM.”

In Isaac's moment of greatest need, Abraham isn't going to leave his side.  THIS is why God has partnered with Abraham — because Abraham has God's heart.  I hear Abraham say, “…son, even if you walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I am with you…”  And when the story is all over, Abraham has learned his lesson.  He names the place “The LORD Who Sees”.  We translate it “The LORD Will Provide”, but that's a horrible translation.  Abraham walks off that mountain having learned some incredible lessons.  First, God will never demand child sacrifice.  But second, the LORD is a God who sees us.  He sees us and He walks with us and He doesn't ever leave our side.

I find it incredibly interesting to read a conversation that God holds over 500 years later.  When God is calling Moses to go to Egypt to rescue His people, Moses says, “And just who should I say sent me when they ask?  What is your name?  They've probably been wondering just where in the world You've been for the last 430 years!”

God says, “Tell them my name is, ‘HERE I AM’”

It's the exact same Hebrew conjugation.

God tells Moses to tell them — if they've been wondering where He's been this whole time — He hasn't left their side.  For 430 years, God has been as faithful as Abraham sacrificing Isaac.  In their moment of greatest need, God is here.

“HERE I AM.”

It comes up again later, you know.

Jesus is standing in a garden when they come to arrest him.  “Who are you looking for?” he asks them.  “Jesus of Nazareth,” they respond.

“HERE I AM.”

And they all fall over.

It's Jesus' moment of fight or flight.  Will He go to the cross or save Himself?

In the world's moment of greatest need, Jesus isn't going anywhere.

“HERE I AM.”

Yet again, we're invited to trust the story.  Yet again, God shows us His undying love, His steadfast faithfulness, His resolute commitment. His reckless pursuit of you and me.

Will the tragedy of human doubt reign again?  Will we replay “the fall” over and over and over again?  Are we that doomed?  Are we that depraved?  Are we that hopeless?  Or can we follow in the footsteps of Abraham and build altars while we pitch tents?  Can we welcome (to quote the writer of Hebrews in the eleventh chapter) God's promises and God's story from a distance?  Can we live like foreigners in this world, confident that God is building something better for us and all those who come after us?

Could the love of God empower us to be people of which it might be written, “the world was not worthy of them”?

We are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses.

May we be inspired to run the race for a God who sees.

** Much of this material has been influenced by the many different teachings of Rabbi David Fohrman on "The Phantom Akeidah".