three's a crowd: Abraham, Sarah, and hagar

On the surface, this is just an interesting story, filled with female drama. But there's a deeper storyline going on, too: this story is also about trusting God.

Let me set the stage: Abraham is the patriarch of the clan. His wife, Sarah, is well past her prime, and sees no hope of conceiving a child of her own. However, God has promised Abraham that he will be the father of many nations and will have as many descendants as there are stars in the sky (Genesis 15). Hagar, an Egyptian woman and Sarah's slave, is the the third character in the story. 

Back in their day, as I understand it, there were two kinds or classes of wives. There were free wives and slave wives (concubines). Sarah would have been a free wife. She was not born into nor sold into servitude. Hagar was not a wife or a concubine; she was Sarah's "slave" or "servant."

This was a position she might have found herself in if she had been purchased, captured, given as a gift, or, if she was alone in the world, perhaps chose for herself as a way to survive. The Israelites were instructed to treat their slaves pretty well, and although Hagar's story pre-dates the Mosaic Law, it doesn't pre-date God, and I believe the Bible shows that Abraham lived by godly principles (imperfectly, yes, but isn't that true of all of us?). 

The Bible does not say that Hagar was sexually abused, nor should we presume (in my humble opinion) that being the servant of the First Lady of this important family brought with it anything but the respect due a valued slave.

Sarah was Abraham's primary (and at that point, his only) wife and was expected to produce an heir. She had failed in that duty, and as the years went by, she lost hope in her own ability to conceive.

So, in complete accordance with the culturally and morally accepted rules of their world, she sent Hagar in to act as a surrogate. Sarah offers up her slave to her husband -- thus making Hagar a concubine, or secondary wife.⁴ What we might find distasteful (or worse) was pretty much a promotion for Hagar.  

Although. Um, the Bible says nothing about Abraham objecting. So there's that. In fact, it says that he listened to his wife! Sarah must have been pretty persuasive -- or maybe he didn't need much persuading.

You know, in fairness, humanly speaking, neither of them were out of line. Wives routinely offered up their slaves to bear children on their behalf.

However, God had promised this particular wife a child of her own. And God had promised this particular husband an heir. Rather than trusting in God's timing, as they got older, they began to believe they needed to solve this problem on their own. 

Some commentators have said that Abraham should have said, "no," and trusted God more. Which I think is a good reminder to all of us that sometimes our temptations and disobediences are wrapped in perfect cultural and social acceptability.

That is, when we come to the fork in the road, the wrong path isn't always obvious. In fact, it might look pretty attractive.

Hagar's story of abuse

You can guess what happens next, right? Sarah's bright idea is a success! Unfortunately, when Hagar discovers she is pregnant with Abraham's child, she apparently cops an attitude toward Sarah (Genesis 16:4).  Sarah might be barren, but she is still First Lady of the clan, large and in charge.

So they get in a big fight, and she mistreats Hagar (v. 6), who flees to the desert. The desert in question is probably the Negev desert, a very unpleasant place to be when all you have is morning sickness and a goatskin canteen of rancid water.

The angel of the Lord found her, we're told, sitting next to a spring (where she was undoubtedly refilling that goatskin, right?). They spoke, and he told her to return to Sarah. Whaaaat!? Yes. And he promised to bless her with a son and many descendants.

What is amazing about this is what happened next. Hagar says "you (God) have seen me."

Hagar does return to Sarah, and for more than a dozen years, we hear no more about their relationship. Hagar's son, Ishmael, grows into a strong, difficult personality, as was prophesied by the angel of the Lord all those years before (see Genesis 16:11-12 for this).

Ishmael is 14 years old when a son is born to Sarah and Abraham (in God's timing, not Sarah's). They named him Isaac. When the baby was old enough to be weaned, there was a celebration during which Ishmael was disrespectful. 

Sarah had had it with Hagar and her rebellious teenager, and with Abraham's reluctant agreement, once again gives them the boot. They wander in the desert until the boy succumbs to the elements and falls asleep beneath a bush. Hagar sits some distance away, weeping, expecting her son to die at any moment.

But God was watching. He saw it all. He always does. The angel of the Lord spoke to her and told her that God had heard the boy crying. He heard him.

Hagar's story has a reasonably happy ending, it seems. God sustained them in the desert and she helped her son find a wife (Genesis 21:17-21). Since Ishmael eventually married, maybe Hagar lived with them and became an old lady doting on all her grandchildren (Scripture doesn't actually tell us). "The End."

God sees you in your trauma

But here's the thing. Could we jump back to Hagar's first desert adventure? That's the part of her story that really speaks to me personally, and I want you to really take notice of what Hagar said then. It's the point of this article. 

Even in all her trials, tribulations, and turmoil, God saw her. I can imagine her gazing upward in astonishment as it sinks in, and kind of slowwww-llll-yyy- whispering the words, testing them as they cross her lips: "You are the God who sees me."

But he didn't change her circumstances. He didn't really rescue her in the sense that you and I would prefer it to happen. 

I cannot explain that. I am as astonished by it as you are. But it resonated with me the first time I studied it in preparation for leading a women's sexual abuse group, and it resonates with me still. He saw her.

I think there's something important there. In a nutshell, it means that he sees you, too. God has not overlooked you. 

In the barren wasteland that is your abuse story, even though you can't see him, feel him, or even believe he could possibly care about you, he has been there all along, caring, mourning the harm done to an innocent.

I don't know what that says to your soul. Maybe nothing. Or, maybe you are having a moment right now -- like Hagar, you have suddenly realized that God was there, and that even though he didn't change your circumstances, he saw you.

I can't wrap this up in a tidy package with an answer for you. I, too, wish that he'd changed my circumstances 'way back then. That bad things hadn't happened to me.

That said, I have found it extremely comforting to take Hagar's words as my own: "You are the God who sees me." God did not forget me, he did not abandon me, and he does not condone my abuse.

It's okay if you aren't with me there. But, It's God you need to have a chat with, not me. Share your pain and anger with him.

There is beauty even in the desert, my friend. Look for it. God's voice can be hard to hear, but it's worth trying.

Maybe, just maybe, if you listen in the silence, you will hear his still, small voice -- like a breath or a breeze -- whispering to you, "I hear your cries. I am with you. I see you."

we made it!

Thanks for sticking it out with me -- we got through an entire conversation on a really tough subject. And I know we may have gotten through it with completely different opinions and maybe I even made you really, really angry.

Can we keep talking, please? I learn from you-all as much as you might learn from me.

What part, if any, of Hagar's story resonates with you? Let me know in the comments below.