- Genesis 22: 1-2, 9a, 10-13,15-18
- Psalm 116: 10, 15, 16-17, 18-19
- Romans 8: 31b-34
- Mark 9: 2-10
- Sacrifice
- Do you think that God deliberately tests our faith?
- At the moment that Abraham raised the knife over Isaac, do you think that was a moment of freedom, or bondage?
- If you think that was a moment of freedom, why would anyone want it?
- Oh freedom
- What are some of the things that we can become bound to?
- Are all of those things wrong/evil in and of themselves?
- What does true and complete freedom look like, how would you tell someone who's truly free?
- What do we have to do in our lives to achieve that sort of freedom?
- Trust
- Would you draw a distinction between trust and faith?
- Is there a mutuality between them (each depends upon, fosters the other) or does one preceed the other?
- Are you more trusting today than you were a year ago?
- Why or why not?
- Living in the moment
- Have you ever had a transfiguring moment, some point in time when suddenly, even though nothing has changed, everything looks different?
- Do you ever revisit such moments?
- How have they changed you?
- Or, another way of looking at this Gospel:
- Do you have trouble exploring the moment that you're in? Always thinking ahead to what's coming at you, or brooding over the past?
- How is that working for you?
- How might you live regret-free?
- Do you think that Jesus is interested in hearing about your fears for the future?
- Are there things in my life that I consider mine and mine alone?
- What am I thankful for today?
- What am I doing to increase my trust in God?
- Do I regularly leave myself open to God's touch in my life? Would I notice if He touched me?
Really?
My father tied the wood for the sacrifice to my back with strong, practiced hands.
He was always resourceful, always knew what to do in every situation.
I always hoped that I would someday learn that sort of resiliance in a crisis.
He seemed so sombre, exhausted of soul that day. I asked what was weighing him,
All that I got for an answer was a long sigh, coming from deep within him,
And the ghost of a smile as he said "nothing that you can do anything about."
I looked at the fire and the knife, recalled the wood that dragged at my young frame
And I asked where the sacrifice was. Again, that deep sigh, and the assurance
That God, who had provided everything else in our lives, would provide once again.
Finally, the alter built, the wood carefully arranged so that it would burn hot and steady
Father gently picked me up, laid me across that wood that I had carried all of that way
And my first thought was that I might have walked a little slower if I had but known.
Tears streaming down his weathered cheeks, he raised the jagged flint knife high
Muscles taut with tension, frame wracked with grief, a split second melted into eternity.
I felt a deep peace come over me. Not because I knew how this would all end.
Rather, because I knew that it was no longer in my hands.
God had brought us here, God had set the stage,
And no matter whether one or two of us went down that mountain,
God would still be with the both of us.
The sunlight was never so bright, the fragrant sage never sweeter,
Life never more precious than that moment, suspended in time.
In my heart I visit that mountain from time to time.
To regain perspective.
To regain my freedom.
He was always resourceful, always knew what to do in every situation.
I always hoped that I would someday learn that sort of resiliance in a crisis.
He seemed so sombre, exhausted of soul that day. I asked what was weighing him,
All that I got for an answer was a long sigh, coming from deep within him,
And the ghost of a smile as he said "nothing that you can do anything about."
I looked at the fire and the knife, recalled the wood that dragged at my young frame
And I asked where the sacrifice was. Again, that deep sigh, and the assurance
That God, who had provided everything else in our lives, would provide once again.
Finally, the alter built, the wood carefully arranged so that it would burn hot and steady
Father gently picked me up, laid me across that wood that I had carried all of that way
And my first thought was that I might have walked a little slower if I had but known.
Tears streaming down his weathered cheeks, he raised the jagged flint knife high
Muscles taut with tension, frame wracked with grief, a split second melted into eternity.
I felt a deep peace come over me. Not because I knew how this would all end.
Rather, because I knew that it was no longer in my hands.
God had brought us here, God had set the stage,
And no matter whether one or two of us went down that mountain,
God would still be with the both of us.
The sunlight was never so bright, the fragrant sage never sweeter,
Life never more precious than that moment, suspended in time.
In my heart I visit that mountain from time to time.
To regain perspective.
To regain my freedom.
Shalom!
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