There’s a story in Scripture that feels almost too extreme to relate to—and yet somehow, it speaks directly into this exact tension. Hang with me here for a second.

Genesis 22: 1-2 says:

Some time later, God tested Abraham’s faith. “Abraham!” God called.

“Yes,” he replied. “Here I am.”

“Take your son, your only son—yes, Isaac, whom you love so much—and go to the land of Moriah. Go and sacrifice him as a burnt offering on one of the mountains, which I will show you.”

Here, God asks Abraham to take his son Isaac—the very promise he waited years (many years!!!!) for—and offer him as a sacrifice. A sacrifice. Yes, you read that correctly. It sounds assaulting and impossible that a loving God would ask that, doesn’t it? And Scripture doesn’t soften it. God even says, “your son, your only son, whom you love.” He’s not unaware of what He’s asking.

If I’m Abraham, I’m asking for confirmations, second opinions, and maybe a burning bush or five. But that’s not what we see. Abraham gets up the next morning… and he goes.

And here’s what’s wild: it’s not immediate. It’s a three-day journey.

“The next morning Abraham got up early. He saddled his donkey and took two of his servants with him, along with his son, Isaac. Then he chopped wood for a fire for a burnt offering and set out for the place God had told him about. On the third day of their journey, Abraham looked up and saw the place in the distance. “Stay here with the donkey,” Abraham told the servants. “The boy and I will travel a little farther. We will worship there, and then we will come right back.”

Three days of walking.
Three days of thinking.
Three days of holding something that doesn’t make sense.

And if we’re honest, that’s where most of us unravel. Personally, that sounds excruciating. There were some moments in the NICU after my son, Sledge was born where things felt really shaky and uncertain. There were so many what-ifs. I have very stark memories of begging Jesus, “Please Jesus, please let us keep him. I will never ask for another thing in this life. Please let us keep him and heal him.” The space between is always the hardest part— it is anything but passive. The waiting. The wondering. The time where your mind has room to spiral.

Read more at cleerelystated.substack.com