Wednesday, May 7, 2014

The Offering

Recently I was reading about Isaac and Abraham. The story where Abraham offers up his son as an offering and his hand is stayed by God.

It occurred to me that as grieving parents, it feels as if this is what we are being asked to do. While the choice was never given to us regarding our children, at some point we are very angry at God. We want to be angry at him.... even if perhaps it is not what he wanted, we think he should have spared our child. Isn't that in his power?  So anger turns towards God.

I know that at times I am made to feel that it was a flaw of my faith that caused him not to answer, but I have come to understand that it is not the case. The purpose, the reason, is not known to anyone who breathes on earth. Plan or a result of the fall, I will never know here.

As a Christian missing my child there comes a point where I am beginning to realize that while I can not choose to get Perry back or offer him up physically, that I do have to give him to God.

This giving does not mean that I do not hurt or cry, it simply means that I am choosing to trust God. I am choosing to believe, at least for this moment, that a day will come where all is made right... that God has not shortchanged an infant or his mother.

This is a very hard step.

I will probably waffle a bit on it... giving up the anger feels a lot like giving up the child himself. Which I don't want to do... that pesky persistent belief that if I hold on tighter God will give him back. That if I am stubborn enough God will deem my 'faith' big enough.

Someday perhaps I will figure out how to hold on to my son with love alone, even as I offer him up to God. It doesn't really sound right emotionally or mentally as I read the line in my mind, but I know I have to find a way to do it.

1 comment:

  1. This was beautifully written. I, too, have thought of Abraham as I think of the death of my son. I am thankful that God didn't ask me to do what Abraham did. I know I just could never do that. I would rather have him take him quietly, gently because He knows that if I had the choice, I would not let go. I would hang on to my son, kicking and screaming and never letting go. But I love that I have the choice to let go now. I have to choice to trust God and His plan for my son. I, too, have anger - and it's a struggle. But I know as I learn to let go of not only my son, but all other things in my life and "give them to God," I can find peace again. What a horrible, excruciating, painful learning experience this has been!