Heart of a Lamb
By Bethany Kaldas
‘The wolf also shall dwell with the lamb,
Isaiah 11:6
The leopard shall lie down with the young goat,
The calf and the young lion and the fatling together;
And a little child shall lead them.’
The phrase heart of a lion is used as praise—it means someone demonstrated courage and strength in the face of adversity. That’s fair enough—there is certainly something to be said for those who fight for justice, those who stand up for the helpless and actively defy oppressors. But there is another form of courage and strength in the face of danger that is far more underrated…and is often mistaken for the exact opposite.
‘…giving thanks always for all things to God the Father in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, submitting to one another in the fear of God.’
Ephesians 5:20-21
Submission is, in modern use, a term quite strongly associated with weakness and fear and helplessness. The lamb is a common symbol of submission—people even use the label as an insult—you’re a lamb, I’m a lion—I’m bigger and stronger, you’re weak, you have nothing.
But let’s take a look at the story of Abraham and Isaac.
We talk a lot about Abraham’s decision to sacrifice his only and precious son, and throughout the whole ordeal, Isaac almost seems like a prop. We don’t tend to talk about him making any decisions here. But think about it—at this point, Isaac was a strong young man (strong enough to carry wood up a mountain) and his father was very, very old. Isaac also isn’t stupid. He realises that they don’t have a sacrificial animal as they’re going up the mountain. There were very few ways this could go in his favour. By the time he’s being laid on the firewood, he understands exactly what’s happening. He could’ve said something or done something to stop it
And yet, he says nothing.
Personally, I’d never given that much thought to Isaac’s silence. I’d always just assumed that since the story seemed primarily about Abraham that Isaac just wasn’t given much of a character arc, if you will. But although Isaac’s silence seems like mere weak character, a lack of personality or opinion, perhaps even stupidity, I believe it is just as much a decision as Abraham’s choice to sacrifice his son in the first place.
We don’t seem to make nearly as big a deal about it as we do about Abraham, but in his silence, in his submission, Isaac is showing his willingness to be sacrificed—for God, for his father, for whatever purpose this sacrifice served. Unlike Abraham, we’re given no indication that Isaac thought he would be resurrected after this. This was it, the final battle—and it was not a battle to save his life, but to lose it. Because submission (of this sort) is not passive, submission is a choice.
I know I said that Isaac was strong enough to stop this from happening if he chose, but I’d argue that’s not the point. It’s not really about whether he could’ve done otherwise—whether he had the power to resist but decided not to use it. That’s not the question—the important question is: was he willing?
We can tell he was willing, because he could’ve done otherwise—but that’s merely the external reassurance of is inner condition. He could’ve submitted just as easily if he had been a frail child who really couldn’t have stopped this from happening.
This is important. Because sometimes, our circumstances are genuinely inescapable. Sometimes, we’re not young and strong and capable of resisting the sacrifice. Sometimes the ropes are too tight and there is nowhere for us to go. The question is not whether we are able to leave or not—the question is whether I will go quietly, with the assurance that our circumstances are in greater hands, or whether I will go kicking and screaming.
‘We are not necessarily doubting that God will do the best for us; we are wondering how painful the best will turn out to be.’
C. S. Lewis
Clearly, Isaac was going willingly. But I could imagine that it wasn’t easy for him. I could imagine he was having wars inside his mind before he made the decision to lay down his life.
We can see this clearly when Christ is in Gethsemane praying not to have to die. Jesus Himself fought a battle against fear and suffering and injustice—but it was not by dominating his oppressors, it was not by defeating those who hurt Him. He didn’t beat fear by removing its source—He won His battle by trusting His Father’s will for Him. And that is no easy thing for any human to do.
‘And He was withdrawn from them about a stone’s throw, and He knelt down and prayed, saying, “Father, if it is Your will, take this cup away from Me; nevertheless not My will, but Yours, be done.”’
Luke 22:40-42
We think that standing up and taking action against an external enemy is challenging—it is, that is true, and it is often necessary. There are many circumstances where the right thing to do is to stand firm and fight, especially for the wellbeing of others. Jesus turned the other cheek, but He turned over tables too.
But this is not always the case. Sometimes, the impulse to fight comes not from a sense of love and justice, but from fear, from pride, from a wounded ego. And in those instances, to submit is to let go. And to let go…is scary.
Do not underestimate or misinterpret the act of submission—submission to God’s will takes just as much courage and strength as any battle does. And submission is itself a battle.
We battle all those instincts that tell us to fight or flee, all those self-preservation methods we keep stored up to save us from any kind of peril. When you’re hanging off the edge of a cliff, uncertain of what lies beneath you, it takes a lot of strength to hold on. But it takes more strength—a different kind, but strength nonetheless—to let go. It takes the strength of trust—and even when we’ve seen God save us before, it can still be hard to believe He’ll get us through our present struggles.
‘Relying on God has to begin all over again every day as if nothing had yet been done.’
C.S. Lewis
Lambs are different. Lambs are trusting. A lamb will follow their shepherd wherever he takes them, even if it is to places the lamb has never been before. We might think them naive or silly, but they will not follow just anyone. This was a decision they made. The flock follows because they know their shepherd will not lead them astray. It is not weakness that they follow him into the unknown. It is the power to lay down their own fears, their own will, and trust the one who knows the way. And we must remember that although Christ is the Lion of Judah, He is also the Lamb slain before the foundation of the world (Revelation 13:8).
‘He was oppressed and He was afflicted,
Isaiah 53:7
Yet He opened not His mouth;
He was led as a lamb to the slaughter,
And as a sheep before its shearers is silent,
So He opened not His mouth.’
Submission and love go hand in hand—and neither is a form of weakness. On the contrary, real submission that comes from love requires more strength and courage than we tend to realise. If Christ had fought the soldiers who came to arrest Him, it probably would’ve been a bit challenging—but I can guarantee that letting them arrest Him—knowing exactly what He was about to go through—that was far harder. In the same way, it might take guts to punch someone who offended you, but it takes a much deeper, quieter strength to let it go. It might take power to take revenge on someone who hurt you, to make sure they never dare do it again, but it takes a much stronger character to forgive, to empathise, and to show compassion on those who have wronged you.
These things look like weakness to the world, but this is just one of the many forms that real love takes. Love is indeed a roaring Lion, but Love is also the silent Lamb, willing to give up its life for even those who have wronged Him.
‘Then Jesus said, “Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they do.”And they divided His garments and cast lots.’
Luke 23:34