The man stood at the edge of the altar, knife raised, heart trembling. His son—his only son—lay bound on the wood. The silence was heavy. Heaven held its breath.
Then, a voice broke through.
“Abraham! Abraham!”
“I am here,” the father whispered.
“Do not lay a hand on the boy,” the voice said. “Now I know that you fear God, because you have not withheld from me your son, your only son” (Genesis 22:11–12).
It’s one of the most dramatic moments in Scripture. But did you catch something subtle? The voice doesn’t say, “You have not withheld your son from God.” It says, “from me.” But who is speaking?
The passage introduces the one who speaks as “the Angel of the Lord.” Not an angel. The Angel of the Lord. And oddly…this Angel doesn’t merely deliver a message about God. He speaks as God.
Who is this mysterious messenger?
We find him again at a bush that burns but does not burn up: “There the Angel of the Lord appeared to him in flames of fire from within a bush… God called to him from within the bush, ‘Moses! Moses!’ And Moses said, ‘Here I am’” (Exodus 3:2–4).
Or later, under the oak tree in Ophrah, where a frightened man threshes wheat in secret. “‘The Angel of the Lord came and sat down under the oak…’ The Lord turned to him and said, ‘Go in the strength you have… Am I not sending you?’” (Judges 6:11–14).
Do you see it? The Angel of the Lord appears—and then God speaks. Sometimes the text refers to him as “the Angel of the Lord,” yet it is “God” or “the LORD” speaking. Not a separation between messenger and Master, but a mingling. It’s as if God wrapped Himself in mystery… and came close.
Bible scholars have wrestled with this figure for centuries. Was it just a high-ranking angel with divine phrases on his lips? Yet Scripture never shows ordinary angels receiving worship or speaking in God's first-person voice. But the Angel of the Lord does both. Repeatedly.
Many believe this was a visible appearance of God Himself—what theologians call a theophany. Or perhaps even the pre-incarnate Christ—Jesus, long before Bethlehem. Speaking hope to Hagar in the wilderness. Holding Abraham’s hand at the altar. Meeting Moses in fire and Gideon in fear.
It’s not so far-fetched. John’s Gospel tells us, “No one has ever seen God, but the one and only Son…has made him known” (John 1:18). Jesus is the image of the invisible God. If anyone has ever truly seen God… they’ve seen Him.
Maybe you’ve felt that too—that when God draws near, He doesn’t always come how we expect. Not in the stormy shout, but the whisper by the well, the voice in the fire, the presence in the ordinary places: a bush. A field. A tree where a man named Zacchaeus hides.
The Angel of the Lord reminds us that God is not distant. He doesn’t simply bark commands from Heaven and wait. He steps into our stories, slides close to the trembling hearts, and says, “Do not be afraid. I am with you.”
Sometimes, He even says things we thought only God could say.
I remember sitting on a park bench once, grieving a loss I couldn’t speak aloud. I half-prayed, half-questioned, and in that quiet moment, I didn’t hear a sermon or see a sign. But in my spirit, it was as if Someone whispered, “You’re not alone.” And somehow… I knew it wasn’t just comfort. It was presence.
Maybe you’ve experienced that too. Not a booming voice—but the assurance that Someone beyond you was near. That even when no answer came, His presence did.
Is it possible that the Angel of the Lord is more than a messenger? That He carries a name far greater than angelic rank?
God has always made a way to be with His people. From the fire of the bush to the flesh of a baby in Bethlehem, He speaks—first through mystery, then through a Son. “The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us” (John 1:14).
We don’t always get lightning bolts or parted seas. But we get Him. And He still appears in our waiting, whispers to us in our weariness, and calls us by name when we think we’ve been forgotten.
The man stood at the edge of the altar, knife raised, heart trembling. His son—his only son—lay bound on the wood. The silence was heavy. Heaven held its breath.
Then, a voice broke through.
“Abraham! Abraham!”
“I am here,” the father whispered.
“Do not lay a hand on the boy,” the voice said. “Now I know that you fear God, because you have not withheld from me your son, your only son” (Genesis 22:11–12).
It’s one of the most dramatic moments in Scripture. But did you catch something subtle? The voice doesn’t say, “You have not withheld your son from God.” It says, “from me.” But who is speaking?
The passage introduces the one who speaks as “the Angel of the Lord.” Not an angel. The Angel of the Lord. And oddly…this Angel doesn’t merely deliver a message about God. He speaks as God.
Who is this mysterious messenger?
We find him again at a bush that burns but does not burn up: “There the Angel of the Lord appeared to him in flames of fire from within a bush… God called to him from within the bush, ‘Moses! Moses!’ And Moses said, ‘Here I am’” (Exodus 3:2–4).
Or later, under the oak tree in Ophrah, where a frightened man threshes wheat in secret. “‘The Angel of the Lord came and sat down under the oak…’ The Lord turned to him and said, ‘Go in the strength you have… Am I not sending you?’” (Judges 6:11–14).
Do you see it? The Angel of the Lord appears—and then God speaks. Sometimes the text refers to him as “the Angel of the Lord,” yet it is “God” or “the LORD” speaking. Not a separation between messenger and Master, but a mingling. It’s as if God wrapped Himself in mystery… and came close.
Bible scholars have wrestled with this figure for centuries. Was it just a high-ranking angel with divine phrases on his lips? Yet Scripture never shows ordinary angels receiving worship or speaking in God's first-person voice. But the Angel of the Lord does both. Repeatedly.
Many believe this was a visible appearance of God Himself—what theologians call a theophany. Or perhaps even the pre-incarnate Christ—Jesus, long before Bethlehem. Speaking hope to Hagar in the wilderness. Holding Abraham’s hand at the altar. Meeting Moses in fire and Gideon in fear.
It’s not so far-fetched. John’s Gospel tells us, “No one has ever seen God, but the one and only Son…has made him known” (John 1:18). Jesus is the image of the invisible God. If anyone has ever truly seen God… they’ve seen Him.
Maybe you’ve felt that too—that when God draws near, He doesn’t always come how we expect. Not in the stormy shout, but the whisper by the well, the voice in the fire, the presence in the ordinary places: a bush. A field. A tree where a man named Zacchaeus hides.
The Angel of the Lord reminds us that God is not distant. He doesn’t simply bark commands from Heaven and wait. He steps into our stories, slides close to the trembling hearts, and says, “Do not be afraid. I am with you.”
Sometimes, He even says things we thought only God could say.
I remember sitting on a park bench once, grieving a loss I couldn’t speak aloud. I half-prayed, half-questioned, and in that quiet moment, I didn’t hear a sermon or see a sign. But in my spirit, it was as if Someone whispered, “You’re not alone.” And somehow… I knew it wasn’t just comfort. It was presence.
Maybe you’ve experienced that too. Not a booming voice—but the assurance that Someone beyond you was near. That even when no answer came, His presence did.
Is it possible that the Angel of the Lord is more than a messenger? That He carries a name far greater than angelic rank?
God has always made a way to be with His people. From the fire of the bush to the flesh of a baby in Bethlehem, He speaks—first through mystery, then through a Son. “The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us” (John 1:14).
We don’t always get lightning bolts or parted seas. But we get Him. And He still appears in our waiting, whispers to us in our weariness, and calls us by name when we think we’ve been forgotten.
