Sacrifice

I will never forget the expression on their faces as they looked up at me. A mixture of trust and excitement tumbled through their eyes. Something was up, and they knew it.

My hands trembled as I placed my Bible on the podium in front of me. I was taking a risk, and I knew it. I hoped that I had earned enough of their trust to make the experiment reflect what true sacrifice looked like.

I loved every single one of them. I wasn't looking forward to what I was about to put them through, but I hoped that the lesson it taught would carry with them long after I stopped being their third grade teacher.

"I asked all of you to bring something to the classroom today," I began. "I asked you to find something in your house that could never be replaced, something that holds special memories for you. I'd like you all to come up one by one and show the class what you chose."

I stepped to the side as I called the first student up front. One by one they filed toward me, each turning and showing off their prized possession. Many of them brought stuffed animals that had obviously been well loved. One brought a tattered blanket, clutching it in her arms as she told of the day she'd been brought home from the hospital wrapped snugly in its softness. Others brought beloved toys, another a guitar.

My voice caught as I asked the final student to sit back in his desk. I took a deep breath, catching the eye of the parent volunteer that I had requested. She knew what was coming, and she picked up a tissue box as she smiled reassuringly at me.

"I asked you all to bring your special belongings today for a reason," I said quietly, looking in their eyes that twinkled from the excitement of the activity. "I want you each to bring your item up here and set it on the table."

Excitement was replaced by questioning looks. They knew me well enough to know when I was being serious, and I was more serious in that moment than they had ever seen me.

"You are going to put it on the table," I continued, "and I am going to give these things to the children who need them the most."

I can't begin to describe the wave of emotion that slammed into my precious students as my words began to sink in. Almost all of them took their special toy or blanket or stuffed animal in their arms, holding it tightly as they stared at me.

"Will we get it back?" one boy asked, his voice cracking.

"I am going to give them to the children who need them the most," I repeated with a hitch in my voice.

"But will we get it back?" a little girl echoed desperately.

I repeated the same answer back to her.

The looks they gave me still stand with me today. "How could you do this? Who do you think you are? I TRUSTED you!"

A few children stood up, giving me a glance that said they were only doing this because my standing as their teacher outweighed what they desired to do. They placed their items on the table, walking with slumped shoulders back to their desks. Each one of them placed their heads down on their arms in defeat.

More children followed, tears rolling down their cheeks. My entire body was shaking, my tears mirroring their own. Doubt laced through my mind. Was I doing the right thing?

Finally only one little boy remained. He held a stuffed animal that he had cuddled with every night since he could remember.

"I can't do it!" he screamed at me.

"Yes, you can," I answered brokenly.

"I won't do it!" he yelled again.

"You will," I said, forcing strength into my words. "You will do it because I am your teacher and I am telling you that you have to do it." How I longed to take him in my arms. How I yearned to stop this whole thing. But I knew that this sweet child was embodying the exact point of everything I was trying to do.

He glared at me for a long time. The parent volunteer walked up and down the aisles handing tissues to the children who were crying. Finally, with a loud, guttural cry, he walked up to the table and put it down.

A few steps in front of his desk, he collapsed on his knees.

I buried my head in my hands as I waited for him to pick himself up and sit at his desk.

As I pulled myself under control, I opened my Bible and read aloud:


Some time later God tested Abraham. He said to him, "Abraham!"

"Here I am," he replied.

Then God said, "Take your son, your only son, Isaac, whom you love, and go to the region of Moriah. Sacrifice him there as a burnt offering on one of the mountains I will tell you about."

Early the next morning Abraham got up and saddled his donkey. He took with him two of his servants and his son Isaac. When he had cut enough wood for the burnt offering, he set out for the place God had told him about.

Abraham took the wood for the burnt offering and placed it on his son Isaac, and he himself carried the fire and the knife. As the two of them went on together, Isaac spoke up and said to his father Abraham, "Father?"

"Yes, my son?" Abraham replied.

"The fire and wood are here," Isaac said, "but where is the lamb for the burnt offering?"

Abraham answered, "God himself will provide the lamb for the burnt offering, my son." And the two of them went on together.

When they reached the place God had told him about, Abraham built an altar there and arranged the wood on it. He bound his son Isaac and laid him on the altar, on top of the wood.

Then he reached out his hand and took the knife to slay his son. 11 But the angel of the LORD called out to him from heaven, "Abraham! Abraham!"

"Here I am," he replied.

"Do not lay a hand on the boy," he said. "Do not do anything to him. Now I know that you fear God, because you have not withheld from me your son, your only son."

Abraham looked up and there in a thicket he saw a ram caught by its horns. He went over and took the ram and sacrificed it as a burnt offering instead of his son.

So Abraham called that place The LORD Will Provide. And to this day it is said, "On the mountain of the LORD it will be provided."

The angel of the LORD called to Abraham from heaven a second time and said, "I swear by myself, declares the LORD, that because you have done this and have not withheld your son, your only son, I will surely bless you and make your descendants as numerous as the stars in the sky and as the sand on the seashore. Your descendants will take possession of the cities of their enemies, and through your offspring all nations on earth will be blessed, because you have obeyed me." (Genesis 22:1-3, 6-22)

The students were familiar with the story of Abraham and Isaac, having heard it many times through their Sunday School years. You could see relief and understanding dawn on their faces as I began to read.

By the time I finished reading, they knew that they would not have to give away their special belongings. But though they were relieved, I saw exactly what I had hoped to see in their expressions: understanding.

At eight years old, they could never comprehend what it would be like to be asked to sacrifice their only child. But they could now understand what it would feel like to sacrifice something that was truly special and unique to them.

That year as we studied the life of Abraham, the children listened and responded in a way that none of my previous students had.

I don't know if the lesson carried with them, but it carried with me. It emphasized to me the value of making God's Word personal.

I will never forget those children. Though I had thought the lesson through many times, experiencing it with them taught me more than I could have imagined.

It brought me to a new understanding of what ultimate obedience to God would look like. It gave me a small glimpse of what makes Abraham a hero of the faith.

Most of all, it reminded me that even when we are asked to sacrifice to our Lord, His intent and reasoning is always based in love. And when we cry because we can't see His reasoning, He grieves with us.