The Sacrifice of Isaac - Devotion for July 21

Let’s look at another Caravaggio. (Sorry, I can’t help myself!) It was quite a thrill for me to see this painting in the Uffizi Gallery in Florence. One reason I love Caravaggio is that he doesn’t just paint scenes—he paints human emotions. And nowhere is that clearer than in this painting titled, The Sacrifice of Isaac.

It is based on Genesis 22:11-12, where God asks Abraham to sacrifice his son Isaac, who we can see is terrified, his neck strained back over a rock, his mouth open in shock or scream. Abraham’s hand is clutching his son, the knife just inches from the fatal blow. And then—suddenly—there it is: a hand on Abraham’s wrist, holding him back. An angel, forceful and urgent, intervenes. The ram that will replace Isaac stands off to the side.

Caravaggio captures something Genesis doesn’t describe in detail: the raw, physical tension of that moment. The human emotion. The father’s trembling obedience. The son’s fear. The divine interruption.

I marvel at Abraham’s willingness to be obedient at such a high cost. He didn’t get a blueprint. He didn’t know it was a test. He just knew what God had asked—and it looked impossible, even cruel.

And let’s be honest: sometimes God’s call feels that way. Sometimes the journey of faith brings us right to the edge of what we think we can bear. Letting go of control. Laying down what’s most precious. Surrendering without knowing the ending.

But Abraham didn’t run. He didn’t argue (at least not this time). He simply said, “Here I am.”

What’s truly stunning in Caravaggio’s image is the moment of divine interruption. God steps in—not gently, but decisively. The angel doesn’t whisper; he grabs Abraham’s wrist. Mercy stops the knife. That’s the kind of God we serve.

He sees us. He sees the breaking point. He sees the tears we haven’t shed yet. He doesn’t always explain himself—but he never abandons us in the hardest moments. Sometimes God calls us to walk a hard road just far enough to discover who he really is. Not a taker of life, but a giver. Not a cruel tester, but a faithful provider.

There’s always a ram in the thicket, even if we can’t see it yet.

Of course, this story doesn’t stand alone—it points forward. Isaac carries the wood. He climbs the hill. He’s bound for sacrifice. But he is spared.

Years later, another Son would carry his own wood. Climb another hill. But this time, there would be no angel to stay the hand. Jesus would be the Lamb. The substitute. The One who laid down his life so we could go free.

Featured art: The Sacrifice of Isaac by Caravaggio, 1571, Uffizi Gallery, Florence

But the angel of the Lord called out to him from heaven, “Abraham! Abraham!” “Here I am,” he replied. “Do not lay a hand on the boy,” he said. “Do not do anything to him. Now I know that you fear God, because you have not withheld from me your son, your only son.”

—Genesis 22:11–12