Lowering the Knife

My sons are asking for Bible study

I got tested this week.

For some time now, my boys, 18 and 15, have been asking me to do Bible study with them. Their interest in the Bible and existential search for meaning is really happening right now. In the past, every time we’ve attempted this, enough giggling and teenage foolery have happened that I end up giving up until they ask me again.

But this week was different. They’re noticeably moving into a different developmental season. They asked again, and this week they were locked in.

Do I even believe in this?

Will I be able to relate and shape this to where they are?

I told them we’d try to process this week’s lectionary texts together.

I love the roll of the dice feel of jumping into the lectionary texts, but when the boys and I rolled the dice this week, I didn’t feel so lucky with what came up—Father Frickin’ Abraham and the story of him (nearly) filleting his son.

The text said it was a test for Abraham. I feel like I’m being put to the test by reading this with them.

I hate tests.

Turns out who you read the text with makes a significant difference in how you process it. Ok, this does feel like a test.

What was the point of this story again? Was it Abraham’s steadfast obedience? Wait, who uses the word steadfast anymore? And shit, when’s the last time I’ve used the word obedience positively?

God tested Abraham? When’s the last time I believed that God hands out tests?

The boys handled this reading better than I did. With far more questions than answers, I told them that questions were far more interesting and earnest expressions of faith than answers.

We talked about how the bible often tells us as much about humanity’s evolving understanding of God as it does about God. Maybe the movement from sacrificing children to sacrificing animals was itself a breathtaking leap in human consciousness.

I suppose I brought up a few helpful things. The boys seemed to appreciate the moment and my response to it.

But why did it feel like I was being tested right alongside Abraham? Reading the Bible with my boys almost feels like raising the knife myself – preparing to cut and wound them in the same ways I was, feeling trapped in a million Bible study scenarios.

Abraham thought he was being tested and growing up evangelical, I thought I was being tested all the time. Like every sexual thought or notion of anger or reciting all those Beastie Boys lyrics was some sort of spiritual test.

The story never says whether Abraham ever passed the test that day. Why’d they leave that part out? Because I’m not so sure he passed. Why didn’t he protest a little harder? If he was hearing God rightly, why didn’t he give God the finger and protect his son from such an absurd idea? Instead, he lied to Isaac all the way up that mountain and raised that knife only for a buzzer-beating shot from an angel to come through for the save.

What if the test wasn’t whether Abraham would sacrifice Isaac?

What if the test was whether he’d trust the voice inside him that knew better?

I don’t know, man. Vacation Bible School in the basement with my guys… in 2026? What’s the equivalent of a lamb in a nearby thicket to get me out of this pickle?

Ok… deep breath. Deeeeep breath.

I have to be honest. I haven’t believed in divine tests for a long time. I believe God’s too busy getting a joyous kick out of our lives to worry about measuring our behavior or our level of obedience. I don’t put my boys to the test. Why would I think God does?

The fact is, I care more about spending time with my sons than I do about academically accurate bible scholarship. I want them to know that I’m thrilled that they want to study this ancient text with me, but more than anything, I’m simply thrilled to be in their presence. To hear their good questions and all those inappropriate sexual innuendos that inevitably slip out and the perfectly timed breaking of wind that takes the place of the amen. (And that, my friends, will inevitably be my fatherhood legacy.)

Shenanigans. Can’t stop. Won’t stop.

I don’t know, if it is a test, maybe that’s it. Will you laugh? Will you take presence with them more seriously than correct remarks about the Bible? Will you… Enjoy these days and all the goodness packed within them?

Those feel like the real test questions, and I can handle those.

And now I feel my arm lowering and my hands letting go and the sound of a knife hitting the ground. Joy and gratitude replace behavior management and getting the words just right.

Oddly, I feel the communion of the saints—the presence of Father Frickin’ Abraham. Like maybe we’re learning together in all this. Like maybe God is too busy spending time with us and laughing at our innuendos and trouser sneezes to be anxious or ashamed over us. And like me, curiously reading the Bible with my boys, maybe God is learning through these experiences right alongside us.