Sermon notes from Pastor Bryan Loritts at One Community Church on Genesis 22, a faith that shows up, and surrendering the gifts we are tempted to trust more than the Giver.
Pastor Bryan Loritts
One Community Church
We are talking about a faith that shows up.
Father, we bless you for what you are doing in and through this church. We have spoken to you in worship, but we dare not leave having only spoken to you. We need you to speak to us from your Word.
Stand in my body, think with my mind, and speak with my tongue the things you would have us know, say, and do. In Jesus’ name, amen.
A man hiking through the woods falls over a cliff and catches a branch. Suspended above the ground, he cries out for help.
A voice asks whether he believes it can help him and whether he will do whatever it says. He answers yes.
The voice says, “Then let go of the branch.” After an awkward silence, the man asks, “Is anyone else out there?”
Faith is fun to read about and sing about until you actually have to do it.
The saints of old described faith as “let go and let God.” It means letting go of the things we look to for a false sense of comfort, safety, and security.
In the language of our text, faith means letting go of Isaac.
You have an Isaac. I have an Isaac. All God’s children have an Isaac.
Genesis 22 is one of the most famous stories in the Bible and in ancient literature. Centuries later, the writer of Hebrews returns to this scene.
Loritts describes Moses writing for Israel as they journeyed through the wilderness, depending on God for daily manna. This story was not given merely to interest them. It was given to deepen their faith and teach them the value of letting go of Isaac.
God calls Abraham, and Abraham responds, “Here I am.” Later, when the angel of the Lord calls, Abraham gives the same answer.
Loritts identifies the angel of the Lord in this scene as the pre-incarnate Christ. He explains Abraham’s response as attentiveness and a posture of availability: whatever you ask me to do, I am available.
The only words Abraham speaks to deity in this account are words of availability.
Growing up, Loritts was taught to answer his parents with “Yes, sir” or “Yes, ma’am,” not “What?”
“What?” can communicate, “I have an agenda, and you are intruding on it.” “Yes” communicates, “I may have an agenda, but your agenda is bigger than mine.”
When God calls, do we treat him as an interruption, or do we answer, “Here I am”?
The posture of the believer’s life is a posture of faith. Drawing near to God begins with believing him and making ourselves available.
“If it don’t have a little crazy to it, it ain’t faith.”
Faith will not always feel safe or comfortable.
In Jesus’ parable, the servants entrusted with five talents and two talents invest what they receive and double it. Both hear their master’s approval.
The servant entrusted with one talent buries it because he is afraid. The one who plays it safe is the one rebuked.
Loritts draws this warning from the parable: the greatest threat to faith is safety and comfort.
Savings, retirement accounts, and insurance are responsible provisions. The issue is not having them. The issue is a mindset that tries to arrange life so every risk is covered and God is no longer needed.
God loves you too much to let you structure your life in a way that makes him unnecessary.
There will always be a gap between God’s call and your capacity. The bridge connecting them is faith.
The narrator tells us something Abraham does not hear: God is testing him.
Temptation sets someone up for failure. God does not tempt us to evil. A test reveals what is really there.
When one hardship follows another, it can feel as though God is against you. In those seasons, take hold of his Word and remind yourself that God is for you.
A doctor may use a stress test to see what is happening in your heart. Genesis 22 is a stress test.
Prosperity does not reveal everything about what is in us. How do we respond when the bottom falls out?
Abraham had waited until he was one hundred years old for the child of promise. Now God’s test would expose what place that child held in his heart.
God had promised to make Abraham a father of many. Even after Abraham and Sarah’s attempt to obtain a child through Hagar, God remained faithful. Isaac was born, and Ishmael was sent away.
Now the test presses a question: do you love the gift more than the Giver? Has a good blessing become an idol?
Are you following God because you love him, or only for the benefits?
In Abraham’s world, a son carried a family’s inheritance, lineage, and legacy. Isaac represented Abraham’s hopes and dreams.
When God asked for Isaac, he was asking Abraham to entrust his future to him.
What is your Isaac?
Your Isaac may be your career, your child, your money, your status, what you drive, or where you live.
A career can hold all your hopes. A child can become someone you try to control because your happiness rests on their success. Loritts urges parents to release that control and entrust their children to God.
Your Isaac is the thing you say God can have everything except.
“God, you can have that and that and that, but not this.”
Loritts tells of Michael Jordan visiting his friend Fred Whitfield, whom he had supplied with Nike gear for years. Looking for a jacket, Jordan discovered clothing from competing brands.
Jordan gathered the clothes and told his friend to have his Nike representative replace them. The point: you cannot ride the fence.
Loritts applies the picture to belonging to Christ while holding on to rival loyalties. Taking a knife to “Isaac” is a metaphor for surrender, not an instruction to harm a person.
Abraham rises early, saddles his donkey, gathers the wood, and sets out with Isaac. The account records no bargaining or negotiation.
Obedience is not just doing what you are told. It is doing what you are told, when you are told, with a happy heart.
What has God told you to do that you have not acted on yet?
How could Abraham move toward such a difficult act of obedience?
He knew Isaac was the child of promise. God had said his offspring would be named through Isaac, and God does not lie. Abraham reasoned that God could even raise Isaac from the dead.
His faith was not in himself or even in Isaac. His faith was in the God who keeps his promises.
A pastor friend prepared for a fighter-jet flight by researching its speed, close formations, sharp maneuvers, and emergency procedures. Everything he learned gave him reasons to be afraid.
But he also researched the pilot, whose extensive flying record gave him confidence. He boarded while still afraid because his trust was in the one flying the plane.
God has a record of faithfulness: delivering Israel, parting the sea, preserving the men in the furnace, shutting lions’ mouths, and raising Jesus.
When will we stop merely talking about boarding and actually trust him?
As they climb the mountain, Isaac sees what they have brought for the sacrifice, but asks where the lamb is.
Abraham answers in faith that God will provide.
He builds the altar, binds Isaac, and reaches for the knife. Then the angel of the Lord calls, “Abraham, Abraham,” and stops him. A ram is provided in Isaac’s place.
Why would the all-knowing Lord say, “Now I know”?
Loritts explains this as knowledge gained through experience: God already knew Abraham’s faith, but now that faith had been expressed in action.
The test gave Abraham an opportunity for his faith to show up.
Loritts tells of Mark and Mary, celebrating forty years of marriage on an Alaskan cruise. When another passenger angrily confronted Mary, Mark stepped in to defend her, despite recently having knee surgery.
The misunderstanding was resolved without a fight. Later Mary told him, “Now I know you love me.”
She had known and heard his love before. Under pressure, she experienced it again.
Every test is an opportunity for our faith to become something lived, not merely something said.
After the rescue on the mountain, the chapter turns to a family record. It can feel like an unexpected ending until we notice one line: Bethuel fathered Rebekah.
Two chapters later, Abraham’s servant finds Rebekah as a wife for Isaac.
Abraham entrusts his future to God, and the account ends with God already moving to secure that future.
“Some of us are waiting on God to move, and God is waiting on us to move.”
Loritts draws a generational lesson from the ending: the fruit of faith may extend beyond our own lives to our children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren.
He describes his own life as receiving the fruit of a praying mother and father who continued to walk with God.
Will you trust him with your future?
When Loritts’s youngest son was five, he spent the summer afraid of the pool’s deep end. He stayed in the kiddie pool with goggles, floaties, and a pool noodle while his brothers jumped from the diving board.
One day, without his flotation aids, he called to his father and jumped. Loritts rushed to lift him from the water.
When asked what he was thinking, his son answered, “I told you I was going in. I knew you’d get me.”
Loritts asks whether we have spent years in the kiddie pool while God calls us to trust him in the deep end.
Take out your phone or a piece of paper and write it down.
Sometime this week, tell someone who or what your Isaac is.
Loritts invites the congregation to lift the phone or paper on which they named their Isaac as an act of surrender.
He recalls the father lifting his child in Roots and Hannah promising to give her son back to God.
This is an act of worship: “God, I’m giving this to you. Thank you for the gift, but Isaac is not you.”
Father, we lift our Isaacs to you: our children, relationships, jobs, careers, or whatever has taken your place.
Have your own way, Lord. We trust you. No one and nothing compares to you.
We are stepping into the deep end today. We trust you, and we let go.
In Jesus’ name, amen.