And they came to the place which God had told him of; and Abraham built an altar there, and laid the wood in order, and bound Isaac his son, and laid him on the altar upon the wood. And Abraham stretched forth his hand, and took the knife to slay his son. (Gen. 22:9-10 KJV)
When I was a young girl, I dutifully listened to the story of Abraham and Isaac. I knew it by heart. But I remember, even as I grew up in the church and began attending as a married adult, not really getting it.
What kind of God would ask a father to kill his son? Especially a son God had given to Abraham and Sarah decades later than they expected.
My husband and I were Abraham and Sarah. (Although we didn’t wait quite as long.) Diagnosed with Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome, I was told our chances of having a child without invasive procedures was very unlikely.
So we began a journey of doctor appointments and needles and shots and blood draws and ultrasounds and more poking and prodding than I could ever put into words on a piece of paper .....
I am so blessed to be included among the writers over at an awesome Blog for women writers to share with other women. To read the rest of my piece, please hop over to THE GLORIOUS TABLE.