"I think the Lord is calling me to put (fill in the blank) on the altar."
Confession: I've abused this phrase more than I care to admit. As I've grappled with singleness and solitude, I've said it frequently. First with my husband, then with my children...sometimes both together. I've often thought of Abraham, binding Isaac to offer to the Lord. Did he look the long hoped for son in the eye as he did it? Did he maybe make the bindings loose in case the offering wanted to hop down and run away?
As a Christian, I know that I am called to forsake family, friends, comforts, and the like to follow Christ. I know that His will is stronger, wiser, and more pure than my own. I know that He sees what I can't see and that His plans and callings are perfect. I also know that I am prone to letting things seperate us. I pray for a husband who would challenge me in my walk and lead me nearer to God, but I often find myself focusing on the absent spouse rather than the present Redeemer. That's a problem. No matter how tender that place in my heart is, or how long I've treasured the hope of "someday," it must not be allowed to stand between me and my Saviour. Bad for all parties if it does. Anyhow...I came to the point where I no longer had the heart to hope (see The Hope) I didn't have it in me to think about the prospect of someday, when every day "someday" became less possible. I grieved for the children I would never have. I was so wrapped up in this sorrow that I think I can honestly call myself heartsick. I don't know if this will make sense to anybody who hasn't stood where I am, but those people...that man and those children, were precious to me. They are precious to me. My clinginess might make me sound spoiled and pouty. Maybe I had allowed myself to become so. I don't know. I'm not sure I have the perspective just yet to say one way or the other. I do know this. God was calling me to Himself. He was calling me to put my most precious dreams on the altar.
The purpose of the altar is to remove the things that stand between God and man. To allow for fellowship between God and man, and to provide a means for man to glorify and offer thanks to God. In Christendom we often say that we need to put something on the altar. Rarely do we elaborate on what happens to the offering. Personally, I know that I put things on the altar, and far too often, my immediate action is to wait. There I'll stand, firewood ready, offering placed on the altar, torch in hand, and myself frozen, ear cocked to the thicket. I mean, this is the thing I really love and have waited a really long time for. This is my Isaac. Shouldn't I hear a ram rustling around somewhere? Shouldn't God be telling me to STOP right about now? I know that I've been guilty of stopping in this moment, thinking "Hmm. No ram. Better wait." So I take the offering down, and back into my arms until I'm reminded that it was supposed to go on the altar. So...reluctantly, back it goes. I (once again) take the torch and start loudly talking about how my dream is on the altar. I've repeated this part of the process multiple times, and have finally come to the point when it's time to let go. "It's on the altar, God. I'm really going to let you have it this time..." (listen for that ram one last time) "I'm REALLY going to light it this time God. so, if you want to save it, just say the word!"
The word was "surrender." And I wasn't doing it. Abraham had climbed the mountain with a surrendered heart. Mine was not. Mine was fearful. In a teaching years ago, my older brother (My Hope Lives On) put it quite succinctly. When you put something on the altar, it's meant to be consumed completely. I was afraid of putting my dreams on the altar because I loved them and I didn't want to lose them. When I finally did relinquish my grip and whisper my reluctant "Thy will be done," it was an act of submission more than an act of offering. I did it to obey rather than bless...a detail I wish I could change. I had forgotten that in offering something to God, it is completely consumed as much as it is completely given over to His trustworthy care. I didn't see yet that when I clutched my dreams to my heart, I covered it from His touch. I cried. A lot. Not something I like to admit, but there it is. However...as I mourned my dreams, I discovered that my empty hands could find new occupation. As I respond to the ministrations of my God, my hands are free to cling to His. When I lift them in praise, I am not afraid of what will slip through my fingers. I feel like freshly cultivated soil after the rain. Tilled under and churned up poured out on and ready for my Master's next move. I wonder what will come?
"Those who sow in tears Shall reap in joy. He who continually goes forth weeping, Bearing seed for sowing, Shall doubtless come again with rejoicing, Bringing his sheaves with him."
Psalm 126:5&6
"For His anger is but for a moment, His favor is for life; Weeping may endure for a night, But joy comes in the morning."
Psalm 30:5
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