On the Far Side of Surrender

“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.’”
Genesis 22:5 (NIV)

The Ache of Desire

In life there are not many things that make you feel as inadequate as having a deep desire but being unable to fulfill it.

Maybe it’s the desire to be someone who embodies the qualities you admire — to be disciplined, to love your family well, to live with joy and purpose. Or maybe it’s the longing for a life that feels whole — financial security, meaningful work, a marriage at peace.

These desires come from a place of need, from the ache of knowing that who we are and what we want cannot be satisfied by ourselves.

This is where worship is born.

Whether you are wealthy and have everything but lack the things money cannot buy, or you are poor and long for what seems just out of reach — no one is complete, no one is perfect.

The Story of Human Lack

Thankfully the story of lack isn’t new in the human story. It’s written all over history — endless cycles of brokenness and despair.

But one historical book offers hope: the Bible.

The Bible, a compilation of books and letters gathered over centuries, tells the story of a Creator who not only sees your weakness but steps into it to bring life, healing, and restoration.

And this book, if it’s to be believed, says that you and I were not accidents that stumbled into existence trying to find a place in the world, but intentional works of art shaped by the One who shaped the universe.

Real People, Real Weakness

Within its pages we see real stories of men and women who carried the same insufficiency we feel — and we see how God met them there.

One of them is Abraham, remembered as the father of faith. But before the promises, before the legacy, Abraham was simply a man asked to surrender everything.

Abraham’s World of Altars

Abraham lived in a time when people worshipped whatever they thought could give them what they lacked.

For protection from enemies, the Philistines trusted in Dagon, even setting Israel’s ark beside him (1 Samuel 5:1–2). The Moabites looked to Chemosh, believing he gave them victory (Judges 11:24).

For food and harvests, the Canaanites bowed to Baal for grain and rain (Hosea 2:8), while others lifted their eyes to the sun and moon, worshipping the heavens themselves (Deuteronomy 4:19).

For fertility and children, Asherah was called on for life in the womb (Judges 3:7), and Molech demanded even the lives of children in fire (Jeremiah 7:31).

This was Abraham’s world: altars everywhere, devotion measured by what you were willing to give up.

The Emptiness of Idols

But what did they receive from their sacrifices? Emptiness. Despair. Destruction.

The prophets of Baal cried out all day, but “there was no voice, no one answered, no one paid attention” (1 Kings 18). The king of Moab even sacrificed his eldest son on the city wall — and it brought terror, but not true life (2 Kings 3). Jeremiah said their idols were like broken cisterns, promising water but leaving people thirsty (Jer. 2:13).

In the end, idols gave only emptiness, shame, and exile (2 Kings 17). Even history remembers it that way. King Mesha of Moab bragged that Chemosh gave him victory, but it came through cruelty and blood, not lasting peace.

That was Abraham’s world: altars everywhere, but no real life on the other side of them.

And here’s the tragic irony — for many of these worshippers, their devotion looked noble in their own eyes. Only from the outside could you see the destruction, the chaos, and the loss.

The Call of Yahweh

It was in this context that Abraham was asked to do something familiar — something everyone around him was doing — but at a very different altar: the altar of Yahweh, the Creator.

Abraham wasn’t a stranger to the idea of sacrifice. In his world, child sacrifice was common currency of devotion. But unlike his neighbors, Abraham knew the voice of the Creator. This was the God who had called him out of his homeland and led him to a land of promise. The God who had given him a son when he and Sarah were far too old, even after their own attempts had failed and only made life messier.

This God — the Maker of heaven and earth — was Abraham’s friend. And now, for the first time, God was asking for what the culture of Abraham’s day would have recognized as the ultimate sacrifice: a child.

The Difference of Yahweh

But here’s the difference. With the gods of the nations, sacrifice always ended in loss and despair. With Yahweh, Abraham trusted that surrender would not end in destruction but in life. Deep down, he believed the same God who had given Isaac could provide again.

Because this was the son God Himself had given him. Abraham knew — this child was not the product of his own strength or cleverness. Isaac was no accident of human effort. He was pure gift.

And if the God who brought life out of Sarah’s barren womb could be trusted once before, then surely He could be trusted again — even here, even now.

Hebrews later says Abraham reasoned that God could even raise the dead (Hebrews 11:19). That was the depth of his surrender: even if the knife fell, God would not fail.

God invited Abraham into deeper surrender — more than he had ever known before. And why? To bless him. To pour out His eternal life on Abraham and his descendants. To bless the whole earth through one person’s surrender.

The Lesson of Surrender

What does this tell us?

It tells us that for those of us who long for more — whatever that may be — it starts on the far side of surrender.

Abraham became the father of many nations not because he clung tighter, but because he opened his hands. God could bless him — and bless the world through him — only after he placed what was most precious on the altar.

And the same is true for us. We are not transformed by trying harder, by grasping tighter, by keeping control. We are transformed when we surrender. Transformation begins the moment we say, “Lord, not my will, but Yours.” In our finances, in our children, in our goals and dreams.

The Right Altar

But here’s the key: surrender is not just laying something down. It’s laying it down at the right altar.

Everyone worships something. In Abraham’s day, altars to Baal, Asherah, and Molech filled the land. Today, our altars look different — careers, phones, approval, pleasure, even vague spirituality. And many of us faithfully lay our devotion there. But those altars cannot give life. They only leave us emptier — though it’s often hard to see when you’re in it.

God’s call is the same now as it was for Abraham: take what you’ve been placing on every other altar, and bring it to Mine. Bring your devotion, your time, your family, your desires to the altar of the living God. Because only here — only at His altar — does surrender end in life, not destruction.

Jesus, the Better Abraham

Just as Abraham surrendered Isaac, Jesus surrendered Himself. But His surrender was even greater. Abraham placed his son on the altar, but God provided a ram. Jesus placed Himself on the altar, and there was no substitute.

On His own mountain, in Gethsemane, He prayed, “Not my will, but Yours be done” (Luke 22:42). He surrendered everything — not Isaac, but His very life. And because He surrendered, resurrection life was opened for all of us.

And now, the Spirit of God lives in us so that we too can worship this way — not just with songs, but with surrendered lives. “It is God who works in you to will and to act in order to fulfill His good purpose” (Phil. 2:13).

That’s the promise: worship at God’s altar never ends in loss. It ends in life. But that life doesn’t leave us the same. It reshapes us. And that’s where we’ll go next week — because if surrender is worship, it is also the doorway to transformation.

The Invitation

If you realize you’ve been giving your devotion to the wrong altar, this is your invitation to surrender afresh to God.

You don’t have to do it alone — we are all learning what it means to lay down our Isaacs and trust Him. Subscribe and join the movement!

Prayer

Father, we thank You for giving Yourself to us, even though we aren’t deserving, but as an act of love You emptied Yourself on the cross so we might have life.

Through the death of Jesus we receive not only forgiveness for our sins but the eternal life that comes with our daily surrender as we participate in Your life here on earth as it is in heaven.

We receive the wisdom, the strength, and the grace to keep our surrender alive in the place of worship. In Jesus’ name we pray, amen.