Sermons

Can God be Trusted?

Genesis 22 A story you all know, read it with me.

And it came to pass after these things, that God did tempt Abraham, and said unto him, Abraham: and he said, Behold, here I am. 2 And he said, Take now thy son, thine only son Isaac, whom thou lovest, and get thee into the land of Moriah; and offer him there for a burnt offering upon one of the mountains which I will tell thee of. 3 And Abraham rose up early in the morning, and saddled his ass, and took two of his young men with him, and Isaac his son, and clave the wood for the burnt offering, and rose up, and went unto the place of which God had told him. 4 Then on the third day Abraham lifted up his eyes, and saw the place afar off. 5 And Abraham said unto his young men, Abide ye here with the ass; and I and the lad will go yonder and worship, and come again to you. 6 And Abraham took the wood of the burnt offering, and laid it upon Isaac his son; and he took the fire in his hand, and a knife; and they went both of them together. 7 And Isaac spake unto Abraham his father, and said, My father: and he said, Here am I, my son. And he said, Behold the fire and the wood: but where is the lamb for a burnt offering? 8 And Abraham said, My son, God will provide himself a lamb for a burnt offering: so they went both of them together. 9 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. 10 And Abraham stretched forth his hand, and took the knife to slay his son. 11 And the angel of the Lord called unto him out of heaven, and said, Abraham, Abraham: and he said, Here am I. 12 And he said, Lay not thine hand upon the lad, neither do thou any thing unto him: for now I know that thou fearest God, seeing thou hast not withheld thy son, thine only son from me. 13 And Abraham lifted up his eyes, and looked, and behold behind him a ram caught in a thicket by his horns: and Abraham went and took the ram, and offered him up for a burnt offering in the stead of his son.

Genesis 22 is one of those stories that makes you stop and think, “Would I be willing to do that?” I know you’re thinking- that sounds extreme; but what it teaches us is about trusting God even when things don’t make sense.

At the end of the day, obedience isn’t about blindly following rules; it’s about trusting that God's plan is bigger and better than anything we could imagine. Charles Spurgeon put it, “Obedience is the very door through which the grace of God enters into our hearts.”

Obedience is where faith becomes real. It’s about saying, “God, I trust You more than I trust my own understanding.” Obedience flows out from that TRUST. Get that into your heart and mind, obedience flows from TRUST.

Think of Genesis 22 as a blueprint for us- An invitation to trust God fully, surrender everything, and see how He provides in ways we couldn’t have planned ourselves.

When God told Abraham to sacrifice his son Isaac, Abraham’s first response was trust- No questions, no hesitation. Abraham’s trust was so deep that he obeyed, even when it was painful and confusing.

Abraham’s trust wasn’t just a feeling; it was action. He got up early, prepared everything, and headed to the mountain. That’s real faith- Trusting God enough to act on it.  

And here’s the thing- Trusting God in the hard times is what separates superficial faith from genuine, life-changing trust. Trust like this isn’t just for Bible stories- It’s for us today, in our own struggles and uncertainties.

When we face moments of doubt or fear, our response reveals what we truly believe about God. Do we trust that His plans are good? Do we believe He’s able to turn even our hardest moments into something beautiful?

Obedient sacrifice begins with trusting that God’s character is trustworthy, even when we can’t see the full picture. It’s about leaning into His promises and trusting that He’s working everything out for our good.

The Bible is a book of stories. Thousands of people.  Hundreds of locations. Kings and shepherds.  Prophets and fishermen. Battles and miracles.  Journeys and homecomings.

And yet, the longer I read Scripture, the more convinced I become that there is only one story.

Different chapters. Different characters. Different settings. One story. The story of whether humanity will trust God.

That may seem too simple because the Bible talks about sin, redemption, sacrifice, covenant, prophecy, judgment, grace, resurrection, and the kingdom of God.

But underneath all those themes lie a single question. Can God be trusted?

That question first appears in a garden. The serpent approaches Eve with a suggestion. Not an argument against God's power. Not an argument against God's existence. An argument against what God said.

Can you trust Him?  Can you trust what He said?  Can you trust His motives?  Can you trust His heart?

Every temptation ultimately comes back to that question.  Can God be trusted?

That question follows humanity out of Eden. It

appears in the wilderness. It appears in Egypt. It appears in Babylon. It appears in every generation.  And it appears in our lives as well.

When the diagnosis arrives. When the job disappears. When the child walks away. When a marriage struggles. When the prayer seems unanswered. When the future becomes uncertain. The question returns. Can God be trusted?

Most of us assume that faith is believing in God.  The Bible often describes faith differently. Faith is trusting God.

Those are not exactly the same thing. The devil believes God exists. Faith goes further. Faith trusts His character. Faith trusts His wisdom. Faith trusts His timing. Faith trusts His heart. And that is often much harder.

In Eden, Adam stood before a tree. The woman he loved had fallen. Everything seemed lost. At that moment Adam faced a choice. Would he trust God with Eve? Or would he take matters into his own hands?

Centuries later, Abraham climbed a mountain. This time a father walked beside his son. The promises of God seemed impossible. The future seemed incomprehensible.

At that moment Abraham faced a choice. Would he trust God with Isaac? Or would he trust his own 
understanding?

Then we come to Calvary. A Father gives His Son. A Son surrenders Himself. And there, more clearly than anywhere else in Scripture, we discover the answer to the question that has echoed since Eden. Can God be trusted?

The remarkable thing is that these stories are not primarily about obedience. They are about trust.

Three scenes. One question. Can God be trusted with what we love most?

Sooner or later every one of us stands before our own tree. Every one of us climbs our own Moriah.

Every one of us faces a moment when God's plan makes less sense than our fears.

And when that moment comes, the deepest issue is rarely information. It is trust.

Can I trust God when I cannot see the outcome?                               

Can I trust God when I cannot explain the circumstances?                                                

Can I trust God when the future appears impossible?     

The Scriptures answers with a resounding yes.

The story begins in a garden. Everything about Eden spoke of God's generosity. Adam and Eve were not struggling to survive. They were not searching for purpose. They were not wondering whether God loved them. Every day provided evidence of His goodness. The presence of God Himself.

If there was ever a place where trust would have come naturally, it was Eden. And yet that is where the first great failure occurred.

The serpent did not begin by attacking God's power. He said, "Can God be trusted." In essence, he suggested that God was withholding something good.

That God was limiting them. Keeping them from becoming what they could become. The forbidden tree became a test of trust. Would Adam and Eve believe God's word? Or would they trust their own judgment?

Eve looked. The fruit appeared beautiful. Desirable. Attractive. Everything she could see seemed to contradict what God had said. And so, she ate.

The tragedy is not merely that Eve was deceived. The tragedy is what happened next. She brought the fruit to Adam. And suddenly the crisis became personal.

The command had been broken. This is where the story becomes especially fascinating. The woman he loved stood before him. The companion God had given him. The one whose hand he had held. The one whose laughter filled the garden. The one who had shared every day of his existence.

Notice what happened. Adam did not wait for God to act. He acted. Adam did not trust God with the outcome. He seized control of the outcome. At the deepest level, Adam's action declared: "I cannot trust God with Eve.”

Think about that for a moment. The Creator who had formed Eve from Adam's side. The Creator who had given her life. The Creator who loved her more deeply than Adam ever could.

Adam could not imagine that God might still have a solution. He could not imagine redemption. He could not imagine restoration. He could not imagine grace. He could only imagine loss.

And fear rushed in to fill the space where trust had once lived. Isn't that how fear works? Fear convinces us that the future is already decided. Fear assumes the worst outcome. Fear concludes that God cannot redeem what has gone wrong. Fear tells us the story is over.

But fear rarely knows the whole story. Adam stood at the beginning of human history. He had never known redemption. He had never seen forgiveness. He had never seen grace unfold. He had never seen God rescue sinners. He didn’t know, that God already had a plan.

Before Adam took the fruit, God had a plan. Before sin entered the world, God had a plan. Before the serpent spoke, God had a plan. Adam couldn’t see it. Yet it was already there.

That is one of the great ironies of the story. The moment Adam stopped trusting God, was the very moment God was preparing to demonstrate how trustworthy He truly was.

The gospel was already hidden within God's heart. The promise of a Deliverer was already waiting. Hope was already moving toward humanity. But Adam could not see it.

And so, he chose according to what he could see rather than according to what God had said. That is the essence of unbelief.

Choosing visible fear over invisible promise. Choosing present circumstances over God's character. Choosing our own conclusions over God's faithfulness.

And yet, before we are too hard on Adam, we should recognize ourselves in the story. Because we do the same thing.

A crisis enters our lives. A loved one becomes ill. A relationship breaks. A child wanders. A door closes. A dream dies. And immediately we begin reaching conclusions.

"This cannot be fixed." "There is no future." "There is no hope." "God cannot redeem this."

The details change. The temptation remains the same. Can God be trusted? Adam's answer was no. Not because he hated God. Not because he rejected God. Because he could not see how God could bring good out of what had happened.

And that is where the story might have ended. Except centuries later another father would face another impossible situation. Another beloved son. A mountain. Another test.

And where Adam could not trust God with what he loved most, Abraham would do something altogether different.

If Eden is the story of lost trust, Moriah is the story of trust restored.

Hundreds of years have passed since Adam stood before the forbidden tree. Humanity has wandered far from the garden. Empires have risen. Generations have come and gone. Yet the central question remains unchanged. Can God be trusted?

This time the question comes to an old man named Abraham. By now Abraham has walked with God for many years. He has left his homeland. He has followed promises he did not fully understand. He has experienced victories and failures. He has learned patience, and sometimes he has learned impatience.

Like all of us, his faith has grown through both obedience and mistakes. And at the center of his life stands a miracle. Isaac, the promised son. The child God had pledged to give. The boy whose birth required divine intervention. The son through whom the covenant would continue.

Every promise seemed connected to Isaac. Every hope seemed connected to Isaac. Every future seemed connected to Isaac. Then one day God speaks. And the command makes no sense. Take your son, the son whom you love, Offer him.

The command is shocking. Disturbing. Heartbreaking. And for three days Abraham walks toward Moriah carrying a burden that no parent should ever have to carry.

Imagine those three days. The silence. The questions. The prayers. The sleepless nights. Isaac walking beside him. Isaac talking. Isaac laughing. Isaac completely unaware of what Abraham knows. This was not a simple act of obedience. This was a crisis of trust.

Because everything Abraham could see appeared to contradict everything God had promised. That is what makes the story so remarkable. The issue was not merely sacrifice. The issue was contradiction. God had promised: "Through Isaac shall your descendants be named." Now God commands: "Offer Isaac."

How can both be true? How can the promise survive if the promised son is gone? Abraham did not know. And that is precisely the point. Faith does not require understanding. Faith requires trust.

The writer of Hebrews gives us a glimpse into Abraham's thinking. He tells us that Abraham believed God could even raise the dead.

What a remarkable statement. Abraham had never seen a resurrection. Yet somehow, he concluded: "If God has promised, then God will provide."

He did not know how. He simply knew who. And sometimes that is the highest expression of faith. Not knowing how God will work but Knowing that God will work.

Whatever the form, the question remains the same. Can God be trusted with what we love most?

That is the real issue on Moriah. Not sacrifice. Trust. Can God be trusted with the thing that matters most?

Can God be trusted when His ways make no sense? Can God be trusted when His timing seems impossible? Can God be trusted when circumstances contradict the promise?

Every step up that mountain was an act of faith. "I do not understand. But I trust."

Then comes one of the most moving moments in Scripture. Isaac looks around and asks: "Father, 
where is the lamb?"

Abraham answers: "God will provide." Not: "I understand." Not: "I have this figured out." Not: "Let me explain everything." Simply: "God will provide."

Those three words may be one of the greatest definitions of faith in the entire Bible. God will provide. Faith does not always know the method. Faith knows the Provider.

And at the last moment, God does exactly what Abraham believed He would do. A ram appears. The son is spared. The promise survives. The covenant continues. God proves Himself trustworthy. Yet something even greater is happening.

Moriah is not merely about Abraham. It is a rehearsal. A prophecy. A shadow of something still to come. Because Abraham is about to teach us something Adam never learned.

Moriah is about to point us toward a Father who will do what Abraham ultimately did not have to do. A Father who will not spare His own Son. A Father who will provide the Lamb. A Father whose love will answer forever the question: Can God be trusted?

At Calvary, that question reaches its climax. For centuries, God's people had looked back to Abraham and Isaac. The image was unforgettable.

A father. A beloved son. A journey toward sacrifice. A mountain. A promise. Yet there was one crucial difference. On Moriah, a ram took Isaac's place. On Calvary, no substitute appears.

This time the Son is the sacrifice. This time the Lamb is the Son Himself. This time the Father does not spare. He gave His Son. The Son whom He loved. The Son who had been with Him from eternity. The Son who perfectly reflected His character.

The Son who succeeded where Adam failed. And that brings us back to the garden. Because in many ways, Jesus becomes the second Adam.

The first Adam stood before a tree and chose his own understanding. Jesus stands before another tree and chooses His Father's will. The contrast could not be greater.

Adam said, in effect, "I cannot trust God enough." Jesus says, "Not My will, but Yours be done."

Adam reached out and took. Jesus stretched out His hands and gave. Adam brought sin into the world. Jesus carried sin out of the world.

The first Adam could not see how God could redeem the situation. The second Adam trusted God through suffering, humiliation, abandonment, and death itself.

And nowhere is that trust more visible than in a garden called Gethsemane.

Before there was a cross, there was a garden. Isn't that interesting? The story begins in a garden and nearly ends in a garden.

In Eden, humanity said no to God's will. In Gethsemane, Jesus says yes. "Not My will, but Yours be done."

That may be the greatest expression of trust ever spoken.

And then Calvary arrives. The sky grows dark. The earth trembles. The crowd’s mock. The soldier’s gamble. The disciples scatter. And hanging between heaven and earth is the answer to humanity's oldest question.

Can God be trusted?

Look at the cross. God pursued humanity. God came after sinners. He entered our suffering Himself.

The cross reveals something that Adam never understood. God is willing to lose everything before He loses us.

Calvary reveals that God would move heaven and earth to save Eve and Adam. And Abraham. And Isaac. And you. And me.

The cross is not merely an act of forgiveness. It is a revelation of God's character.

Sometimes people ask, "How do I know God loves me? The answer is Calvary.                          Sometimes people ask, "How do I know God can be trusted?" The answer is Calvary.              Sometimes people ask, "How do I know God has not forgotten me?" The answer is Calvary.

Because at the cross, God permanently settled the question of His intentions toward humanity. The empty tomb answers the question. God can be trusted.

It would be easy to leave Adam in the garden. To leave Abraham on the mountain. To leave Jesus on the cross. To admire their stories. And then go home unchanged.

But Scripture never tells stories merely to inform us. Scripture tells stories to invite us.

Because the question that confronted Adam, Abraham, and ultimately Jesus is the same question that confronts us.

Can God be trusted with what we love most? That is where faith becomes real.

Many people place their faith in what they hope God will do. Biblical faith places trust in who God is.

If my faith is built upon a particular outcome, then my faith collapses when that outcome changes.

But if my faith is built upon God's character, then even when I do not understand His actions, I can still trust His heart.

That is why Calvary becomes so important. The cross is the ultimate revelation of God's character.

Whenever we wonder whether God can be trusted, we are invited to look at the cross.
Whenever fear whispers that God has forgotten us, we are invited to look at the cross.
Whenever circumstances seem confusing, we are invited to look at the cross.

Because the cross tells us something permanent.

The God who gave His Son is not working against us. The God who gave His Son is for us.
The God who gave His Son is not indifferent to our suffering He entered suffering Himself.
The God who gave His Son is not careless with our future.
The God who gave His Son has already demonstrated the depth of His commitment to us.

And once we know His character, we can trust Him with the chapters we do not understand.

The older I become, the more I realize that many of life's greatest questions are not answered with explanations. They are answered with trust.

We trust doctors before we understand medicine. We trust pilots before we understand aviation. We trust builders before we understand engineering.

And in the Christian life, we trust God before we understand providence. Because we know something about His character.

And nowhere have we seen those qualities more clearly than at Calvary.

So let me ask the question one final time.

What are you holding today? What are you afraid of losing? What burden are you carrying? What future are you trying to protect? What person are you trying to save? What outcome are you trying to control?

Could it be that God is inviting you to do what Abraham did? To place it in His hands. Not because you understand. Because you trust.

The Christian life is not the absence of mountains. It is the presence of God on the mountain.

It is not the absence of questions. It is the presence of a trustworthy Savior.

It is not a guarantee that nothing painful will happen. It is the assurance that nothing can separate us from His love.

The first tree revealed humanity's failure to trust.

The second pointed toward a greater trust.

The final, revealed a God who is completely trustworthy.

And because of that, every believer can walk forward with confidence. Not confidence in ourselves. Not confidence in circumstances. Confidence in the God who has proven His heart.

The God of Eden. The God of Moriah. The God of Calvary.

The God who can be trusted with what we love most.

In Jesus’ Name, Amen!