Fighting the good fight.
The Altar’s Work
Give me a promise and a dream,
so my thoughts would be constant fixed, upstream
It’s there my hope and provision lie,
working patience for me, as I abide.
In this patience do you make known,
the heavenly identity, character, and throne.
“Look! It is here! The Promise has come.
But wait, for a moment, God’s surely not done.
A sacrifice, he asks, my heart goes numb,
On the altar of obedience, it shall be won?
But the Promie, Lord, how can it be?
Surely, you can’t expect this sacrifice of me?
My only son, whom I love and have long dreamed,
was your provision to me, redeemed.
As I stack these rocks and wood on ground,
my heart, my flesh! emotions unbound!
His blood, his life, his children, lost!
My promise, my dreams, their fulfillment, its cost!
How could you God - so faithful and true,
ask everything of this humble Hebrew,
Isaac, he is my only son!
Through whom you said the Promise would come.
His body lies there, completely still,
the question, will I believe, and kill?
Kill! My hope and blessing now gone!
God-given inheritance He has withdrawn.
My knife raised above the altar,
I believe, God! Help me not falter.
