p. 171 | JEHOVAH-JIREH by Laura C. Nourse

Seventh-day Adventist Publishing Association · Battle Creek, Mich. · May 31, 1877

JEHOVAH-JIREH

By Laura C. Nourse

Upon the page of inspiration we find recorded no severer test of faith and obedience than that narrated in Gen. 22d, where Abraham, the chosen and faithful servant of God, in whose seed the promise was that all the nations of the earth should be blessed, is commanded to offer up his son, his only son Isaac, upon the altar of sacrifice; to take with his own hand the life of his child, that life which is part and parcel of his own.

We find no record that God in any way explains or signifies to Abraham his design or purpose in this extraordinary requirement. Abraham was accustomed to full and implicit obedience to all the commands of God. He had never stopped to question or to doubt, and now when this sacrifice was required of him he knew no path but obedience. God had commanded; he must obey, and without hesitation, questioning, or repining, he made the needful preparation.

We who have stood beside the death-bed of those dear to us as our own life, who with breaking hearts have watched in silent agony or with tumultuous grief the last flickering ray of life go out, and had no power to save; you who are fathers and mothers, from whom death has snatched your dearest earthly treasure, who in the intense, deep agony of your souls have cried out, “Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me,” whose agonized and bleeding hearts have for weary months or years refused to give your lips the right to breathe the other and sublimer half of that memorable prayer, “nevertheless not my will but thine be done,”—we may know something, but not all, of what Abraham suffered as with the son of his old age, the child of promise and the hope of Israel, he toiled up the mount of sacrifice.

God required not merely the life of his child, but that that life should be taken by his own hand. It was not enough that thus suddenly his son must die, but he himself must be the instrument.

There is some grief, some suffering before which we sit speechless; which in its intensity and sharp agony forbids sympathy or alleviation; some danger before which our whole soul stands appalled, and yet, to meet which, we go steadily and persistently forward. There are men who noisily parade their grief before every passer-by, asking for sympathy and help; others, who silently suffer on, whose grief is too sacred, too precious, their agony too intense, to give even those nearest and dearest to them the right to share their suffering. Enough for such that God knows, God pities, and God can help.

To this class, we may safely infer, belonged Abraham, for none but God knew the terrible suffering of those dreadful hours, none but he could understand the mute agony of his soul, an agony which deepened and intensified at every step, until at last, the journey done, the altar builded, the child bound with his own hands and placed thereon (for in the last hour of conflict he was alone with his child and God), the knife raised over the prostrate form ready to do its terrible and deadly work, it reached the very culmination of all human suffering. He could not, it seems to me, have suffered more had the knife been indeed bathed in the life-blood of his child.

And now the object is accomplished, the test complete; Abraham’s faith and obedience perfect. God requires no further proof; and he stays the uplifted hand, and points out a lamb for the sacrifice. We could not comprehend the grief—can we understand the joy that floods the soul of the grand old patriarch in this moment of miraculous deliverance as he takes the sacrifice which God has provided, and offers it up in the stead of his son? With a gratitude and thankfulness that we may never experience, he desired to leave there some token, some memorial of what God had done for him, “and he called the name of that place ‘Jehovah-jireh,’ literally signifying, ‘the Lord will provide.’” And now God renews unto Abraham his promises and blessing, because he had heard and obeyed his voice, and had not withheld his son, his only son, from him.

God had some design to us in leaving upon record this chapter in the life of Abraham. Do we need the application? It teaches us simple faith, implicit trust, cheerful, unquestioning obedience; willingness to do and to suffer whatever God in his wisdom sees best for us. It teaches more than this; that only when we have discharged every known duty in his fear, have taken every step which he has indicated to us, are living in cheerful and glad obedience to every one of his commandments, have accepted Christ as our Saviour, our rule of life and conduct, can we hope for or have any right to expect his favor; that having done this, bringing every act of our lives, every purpose and desire into conformity to his will and law, we have a right to look for help and deliverance and in a special sense to secure his blessing; that having done all we can, taken the last step in the path of obedience, then in the direst straits, the deepest grief, in every sorrow, trial, and perplexity of our lives, we may look confidently unto him for succor and help, may write “Jehovah-jireh” upon the tablet of our hearts, and gain from an abiding faith and trust in God the sweet assurance of his love and protection, the glorious realization of that blessed promise, “Seek ye first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things shall be added unto you,” with the bright and cheering prospect of the life beyond, where we shall “go no more out forever.”

LAURA C. NOURSE.

Brooklyn, New York, May 19.