Isaac today you became God’s, the firstborn of His people. But I will never stop being your father.
Isaac did not fall asleep immediately. Like his father, he gazed up at the stars and wondered at the events of the day. He knew from his father that the stars held significance for them, but at such a young age he was as yet unable to interpret anything. He recalled that his father had once been part of a culture that worshipped the moon, a symbol that still seemed to fascinate his half brother, Ishmael. But the stars seemed to engage Abraham, maybe because he had spent so much of his life under cloudless night skies, gazing up at such profound grandeur.
Eventually Isaac fell asleep. His dream was fitful at first, as he relived the fearful moment when the knife hung over him. He woke sweating, but soon tiredness reclaimed him and then he dreamt of wonders beyond words. He saw his descendants dispersed amongst the stars, millions of lights twinkling in the black night, each holding some significance for a future yet to be written.
Finally the night slipped away, fleeing before the rising sun. Isaac stirred, opened his eyes and sat up to gaze out at the sunrise and the vast gold-dusted plains below, through the soft haze of morning. It was then that he realized Abraham’s absence and it troubled him. He called, “Abba”, and then louder and more frantically in the awareness of his loneliness on the hill. The events of the previous day came back to haunt him as he walked pass the lazy wisps of smoke still curling up from the altar. “Where are you Abba?”
Suddenly he remembered the rock that Abraham had ascended the previous night and he clambered up. But still he could not see his father, but just as he was about to cry out again he heard a groan and saw his father prone on the edge of the hilltop. “Abba” he whispered. The old man raised his head and looked at his son. His eyes were red with tiredness and hours of sobbing. “Abba, I was worried that you had left me.”
After a long, pregnant silence, Abraham whispered, “Yesterday I gave you back to Yah, but I will still never stop being your father. Isaac, I will never leave you, for God has restored you to me and I cherish you above my own life. You are my life, my future, my destiny. My people are within your loins and you are the first born of God’s promise.
(c) Peter Eleazar at http://www.bethelstone.com/
Isaac did not fall asleep immediately. Like his father, he gazed up at the stars and wondered at the events of the day. He knew from his father that the stars held significance for them, but at such a young age he was as yet unable to interpret anything. He recalled that his father had once been part of a culture that worshipped the moon, a symbol that still seemed to fascinate his half brother, Ishmael. But the stars seemed to engage Abraham, maybe because he had spent so much of his life under cloudless night skies, gazing up at such profound grandeur.
Eventually Isaac fell asleep. His dream was fitful at first, as he relived the fearful moment when the knife hung over him. He woke sweating, but soon tiredness reclaimed him and then he dreamt of wonders beyond words. He saw his descendants dispersed amongst the stars, millions of lights twinkling in the black night, each holding some significance for a future yet to be written.
Finally the night slipped away, fleeing before the rising sun. Isaac stirred, opened his eyes and sat up to gaze out at the sunrise and the vast gold-dusted plains below, through the soft haze of morning. It was then that he realized Abraham’s absence and it troubled him. He called, “Abba”, and then louder and more frantically in the awareness of his loneliness on the hill. The events of the previous day came back to haunt him as he walked pass the lazy wisps of smoke still curling up from the altar. “Where are you Abba?”
Suddenly he remembered the rock that Abraham had ascended the previous night and he clambered up. But still he could not see his father, but just as he was about to cry out again he heard a groan and saw his father prone on the edge of the hilltop. “Abba” he whispered. The old man raised his head and looked at his son. His eyes were red with tiredness and hours of sobbing. “Abba, I was worried that you had left me.”
After a long, pregnant silence, Abraham whispered, “Yesterday I gave you back to Yah, but I will still never stop being your father. Isaac, I will never leave you, for God has restored you to me and I cherish you above my own life. You are my life, my future, my destiny. My people are within your loins and you are the first born of God’s promise.
(c) Peter Eleazar at http://www.bethelstone.com/
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