Coming Back to the Cost of Worship

It started with a comment  on my remix from Jennifer @ Getting Down with Jesus yesterday, reflecting on Abraham’s worshipful anticipation of the sacrifice of his son. She referred to the last part of Genesis 22:4-5:

On the third day Abraham looked up and saw the place in the distance. He said to his servants, “Stay here with the donkey while I and the boy go over there. We will worship and then we will come back to you.” (emphasis added)

And she said this:

Imagine the “worship” that would come before an expected sacrifice of beloved child. I don’t know if I could.

In response, I added:

. . . he traveled three days to get to the place where he would worship. For three days, not even sure of the destination. All the while pondering the sacrifice this worship would call for.

I don’t worship like that. Do you?

This has been nibbling away at some of the duller parts of my heart ever since.

If I were Abraham, I’d have had a mighty hard time telling the servants we were going off to “worship” and we’d be back shortly. I’d have told them something more like I’m going to do the most horrible, excruciating thing I’ve ever had to do. And “we” won’t be back. Just I’ll be back. Alone.

Going off to worship, my eye.

This thing that Abraham did, this was costly worship.

It was not easy and it was not convenient.

It certainly was not his preferred style.

And yet for worship’s sake; no, for the sake of the object of his worship, he traveled three days on foot, shouldering an unbearable load. He stood ready to give all he had.

Just so he could worship.

And I have to say it again. I don’t worship like that. Do you?

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To simplify the discussion, pretend Abraham wasn’t on a long journey to sacrifice his son. Let’s just say he was on a long journey to sacrifice a lamb. Any lamb.

He could do that in his back yard. It was handy. He could just step outside when he got done reading the morning paper, light up the grill and set the lamb ablaze. He’d be back inside in time to catch the football game on tv.

But he didn’t go to his back yard.

He went, as God directed him, to the region of Moriah on a yet to be determined mountain the Lord would tell him about. Abraham got up early, packed supplies, appointed a couple of servants to go along, cut wood for the sacrifice and set out with Isaac. He didn’t see their destination until the third day. (Genesis 22:1-5)

Even without considering the price of the sacrifice he had planned, the worship was costly. He walked three days. He took three days off work without pay. He pulled servants away from their work. He spent time away from his wife.

Not costly enough?

Then go ahead, add that other expense to the tab. Add Isaac.

Add the cost of your son. Your only son.

Consider the cost of three days walking by his side, knowing you won’t walk back home with him.

Consider the cost of looking into your son’s eyes, after you’ve bound him and hoisted him onto an altar, while your arm is raised with knife in hand.

Consider the cost of snuffing out your one hope, your one dream, your one promise from God.

That isn’t worship the way we want to worship.

That is costly worship.

I don’t worship like that. Do you?

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After one of his blunders — understating it, I am, for the text says that what he did came about as Satan rose up against Israel and incited him — David had opportunity to sacrifice to the Lord in his repentance. Again, God gave specific direction, telling him to build his altar on the threshing floor of a fellow named Araunah.

Araunah feared God and graciously gave his threshing floor over to David for his worship.

He even offered oxen for the burnt offering, sledges for the wood, and wheat for the grain offerings.

All for free.

David refused. He accepted the offer from Araunah, but insisted on paying for it.

But King David replied to Araunah, “No, I insist on paying the full price. I will not take for the LORD what is yours, or sacrifice a burnt offering that costs me nothing.” (1 Chronicles 21:24)

David understood. Worship is costly.

He was unwilling to worship God with the goods of another.

He was not content to ride the wave of another’s sacrifice, using the words of another, the emotion of another, the engagement of another and calling it his own.

He would spend himself in worship.

I don’t know. I don’t worship like that. Do you?

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I have every confidence He will not ask me to make a burnt offering of any kind, in any place. The costly sacrifice He made means we never have to do that again. The writer of Hebrews even seems to suggest He never really liked the sacrifices in the first place (Hebrews 10:8).

But what He wants instead — mercy, acknowledgement of God, obedience — these things are costly too (1 Samuel 15:22, Hosea 6:6).

Obedience can call for us to walk a three day journey to the space where we find Him. Mercy requires us to shoulder heavy loads for another. Acknowledging God pulls us past ourselves. These things, they transcend style, ease, convenience and preference.

They call for us to sacrifice all of those things. To spend ourselves in worship.

Therefore, I urge you, brothers, in view of God’s mercy, to offer your bodies as living sacrifices, holy and pleasing to God—this is your spiritual act of worship. (Romans 12:1)

I want to worship like that.

Do you?

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