"Sarah, Sand, and Sea" photo bgrace
I said to her, “This is how you can show your love to me: Everywhere we go, say of me, He is my brother.” Gen. 20:13
Every time I read this statement my insides cramp up into a dull nausea. I shudder. It makes my skin crawl. Out of context, as an isolated sentence, unattached to any particular person or any specific circumstance, words simply written on a page—they aren’t so awful. Brotherly love is noble. Telling someone your needs, especially your wife, isn’t necessarily unhealthy. It’s all good, right? Not when we know the context in which these words were spoken. We know whom they were spoken by, to, and about. We know the history behind them. We know that in fact, they are true, and yet their meaning was twisted to serve untruth. What we are never told is how the “her” in this story felt about them. You might say Scripture doesn’t tell us, so it’s not important. I disagree. I believe there are places in Scripture that the author actually invites us to speculate. To wonder. To enter into the story. To read ourselves into the situation so that we might FEEL something about it. In these places God can speak to us about our lives, and His work in them. This passage has been one of those places I’ve entered into that way. I’d like to share the thoughts that have come to my mind as I have pondered this story, and Sarah’s journey.Consider this:
Now Abraham moved on from there into the region of the Negev and lived between Kadesh and Shur. For a while he stayed in Gerar, and here Abraham said of his wife Sarah, “She is my sister.” Then Abimelech king of Gerar sent for Sarah and took her. Gen. 20:1-2
He did it again. It’s the cry that must have echoed in Sarah’s soul through this dark night.
Feel her pain reverberating heaven-bound into a prayer.
Imagine her sitting in the dark on the harem floor the first night, preferring it's cold compress to the soft solace of pillows and blankets. Way past despair, the engulfing blackness pressing her spirit toward numbness, fighting to keep her soul from caving in, she may have managed to whisper, “God, only You can save me now.” I used to look at this part of Abraham’s story as mostly about Abraham. My attitude toward it was a mixture of contempt and sympathy. Somewhere between “How could you be so stupid to make exactly the same mistake twice?” and “Yeah, I’ve done that, too.” But I see something different now, something more. Abraham’s offense to Sarah was much worse the second time around. And for Sarah, there was now much more at stake than a marital betrayal. Now in question were the words and promises of God. If you take a good look at Abraham and Sarah’s journey in sequence, it is very interesting to note what revelations were given, to whom, and how things became more specific and more clear over time. (This is gonna take a while, so get comfortable.) So we have to go back about 23 years to where God shows up first to Abram, who at the time was married to a barren Sarai. God gives him a command and a promise. The command was to leave and go to a land God would show him. The promise was that God would make of him into a great nation, give him a great name, and the ability to bless many people. Abram believed God enough to accept the promise and obey the command. (Gen. 11-12) But it isn’t until a while later that God appears to him and makes it clear that this promise will be through Abram’s offspring or seed. Abram built an altar in that place—a reminder that God spoke a promise to him—a good idea, because he seems to have trouble remembering. All seems well…then something goes wrong. Because of a famine Abram makes his way to Egypt to find food. Then the “facts” begin to overwhelm Abram. He becomes afraid that he will lose his life because of Sarai’s beauty and begins a pattern of deception that will haunt Abram and his descendents for many years to come. And so Sarai joins Pharaoh’s harem. I wonder what was going through Sarah’s heart and mind at this point. Sarai knew she was barren. In ancient days, you never hear that a man can’t have children. Its always considered a female issue. But because Pharaoh didn’t realize she was married, he didn’t know she was barren. In a culture where a woman’s value, and a man’s stature and livelihood depended on his heirs—Sarai must have felt pierced on two accounts. Her husband had forsaken her for his own protection. All illusions that he would love her enough to fight for her to the death were ground to a pulp. He walked her into a dangerous place knowing it could threaten his marriage. It didn’t even seem to occur to him that he had another choice. He didn’t even consult God about it that we know of.
What must that have felt like to Sarai? Maybe he didn’t really want her. Perhaps he wanted a way out. This would release Abram from being “faithful” to her. Now he was free to enter into another marriage. All Sarai’s feelings of inadequacy and insecurity must have risen to the surface. Her hopes that God would fulfill the promise to Abram through her now completely dashed. She didn’t know for sure if God meant it would be through her—and at her age, it seemed crazy to hope. But I’d bet my last dollar it was the cry of her heart. And now, I bet she felt so stupid for having wished for that. But it gets worse, she was faced with a further humiliation. Pharaoh would eventually discover she was barren, and then what would become of her? Would he have any use for an aging wife who could bear no children? Can you see Satan’s whispers to her? Ha, you wanted to believe you were someone special. This promise from God doesn’t need you. God only cares about Abram. There is no hope for you. God doesn’t want you anymore, you’re no use. Abram doesn’t want you anymore, he’s better off without you. He even said so. And Pharaoh’s gonna find out soon enough that you won’t serve him any purpose either. You are nothing. But the Lord intervened, and so Abram went on his way with Sarai and returned to the place where he had first met God. God spoke to Abram and confirmed again His promise to him. He even told Abram to walk the land, and take it all in. To savor the enormity of the gift He was bestowing upon Him. And there, Abram had a few great moments. He risked himself in battle, recovering Lot and his possessions, and he even gave God credit for all that had been given him. Then something significant happens. God shows up to Abram in a vision and says this, “Do not be afraid, Abram. I am your shield, your very great reward.” Simply stated, God is saying, “I AM your protection, and through me all your blessings will come.” God is saying I will keep you safe so that I can give you all your blessings.
Abram’s response to God makes so much sense—He reminds God that he STILL doesn’t have a child. So what else matters since He doesn’t have the one blessing that will lead to all the others? Then he tells God how he’s gonna resolve the dilemma. His servant will be his heir. And the Lord clearly spoke, affirming the words He had already given Abram. “It will be a son coming from your own body.” Your offspring. Your seed. And then God did something really beautiful. He gave Abram a picture. A visual reminder. No less significant than Noah’s rainbow. He said, “Look up at the heavens and count the stars.” “So shall your offspring be.” Now every time Abram looked up at the night sky, he would see God’s promise. Abram believed God. It was credited to him as something that He did that was right. Makes sense, doesn’t it—that when He tells us something, the right thing to do is to believe Him? God made another promise to Abram. He said I brought you to this land, and now I’m going to give you possession of it. But here Abram wavers a bit. How will I know that this will happen? Can’t you give me some proof? God doesn’t give him proof. He gives him a covenant. A promise. A one way promise. Which meant, no matter what, the covenant depended only on God, not on Abram. And God keeps his word. But time passed. Meanwhile nothing happened. Those are the hardest times to believe. Can you see their minds churning? We must have missed it. We must have misunderstood. What did God say? Did he say Sarai? No. Not specifically. So it must be up to us to do something. And like Abraham offered his servant to God as an heir, Sarai offered her maidservant to Abram as the bearer of the heir. We could be really hard on them at this point, but there’s a couple of things I’d like to point out here. First, Abram and Sarah were going against everything that looked like fact to them to believe God. They were old. They didn’t have any children. And they didn’t really know all that much about God. They had no Bible, they had very little information. In the time and culture of that day it was acceptable for a woman to offer her maidservant to her husband to bear a child. You say they should have known better. I think it’s more fair to say that Abram and Sarai were doing their best to try and "help" God keep his promises. They were going on what they knew and understood within the context of what He said. They were trying to make sense of the information they had. I think where they missed it over and over again was in the simple lack of seeking God before they acted and waiting for Him to lead. And here, the text tells us that Abram listened not to God, but to Sarai. This is a very important lesson. Even when those closest to us seem to lead us in what makes sense—we must always listen for Yahweh’s voice. Perhaps Sarai had grown a bit jaded over the years. Obviously God didn’t mean me, so go ahead and do what you need to do. I won’t keep you from your “blessing.” She even tried to cheer herself up. I’ll still get my family through Hagar. But when she began to be treated with contempt by the woman she had leant to her husband, it all just fell apart inside. The hurt she’d been suppressing erupted. Her words are so poignant to Abram,
“You are responsible for the wrong I am suffering. I put my servant in your arms, and now that she knows she is pregnant, she despises me.”
Sarai was reaping what both she and Abram sowed. Neither of them had consulted God and both were suffering the consequences. Thirteen years later, God shows up and reconfirms his covenant with Abram. Gives him a new name, and gives him and his descendants a responsibility—an act of obedience--within the covenant. And for the first time God does something else. He gives Abraham the piece of information he’d been missing all this time. God gave Sarai a new name and a promise. Sarah (it means princess) would be the one through whom Abraham’s blessing would come. He told Abraham their son’s name and something even more specific. He gave him a timeframe. He said that Sarah would bear Isaac by this time the following year. And Abraham believed God. How do we know? (I’m not a guy, but I’m pretty certain you’d have to be pretty certain that God was the one talking to you before you went ahead and cut yourself and the rest of the males in your household in such a sensitive place.) When you believe what God is telling you, you are willing to do what He asks of you, even if it seems a bit extreme. Before you can act, you must first believe. Interestingly enough, God showed up again and told Abraham in Sarah’s hearing that Sarah would bear a son by that time next year. Most of the attention focused on this story rests on Sarah’s laugh—a doubting laugh, one that I’m guessing was soon quieted, perhaps in humilty and gratitude. But I want to focus on what you might see as a minor detail, but I think it’s huge. God made sure Sarah knew that His promise was to her, not just to Abraham. And God made sure that Abraham knew Sarah knew. Ponder this. All these years…24 years since God first told Abram he would have an heir…Sarah never knew for sure if God meant her. God had never clearly spoken about it. But now…she had God’s word that Isaac would not only come through Abraham, but through her as well. She had hoped and then had been disappointed. Maybe at times she trusted, she believed…like when God saved her from Pharaoh’s harem…that must have been why…right? But then so much time passed, it was too hard. She settled for less. She got used to the idea of Ishmael. But I think deep down she felt abandoned. Unimportant--that’s how God viewed women, right? They were a dispensable part of the plan. But no…God spoke. Sarah was blessed too. Sarah had a new name too. She was included. She was honored. She had not been forsaken or forgotten or set aside. She had not kept Abraham from his dreams or his purpose. In fact, she was going to be the one with whom his dreams would come to life. God had named her son. He would give her an Isaac through Abraham. And if that weren’t enough? It would be within a year. No more waiting and waiting and waiting without proof. She had to get pregnant within the next three months. Can you feel her breaking free from all the horrible untruths and doubts and hurts and fears she’d been carrying around all this time? Can you feel The Accuser finally losing the power to tell her lies about herself? Can you feel the shame she had been carrying in front of everyone begin to fade? Can you feel the doubting, hopeless laugh begin to regain its sweetness, its faith, its strength? And Abraham seems to be gaining strength too. He has another shining moment. He stands up for the perishing souls in Sodom and Gomorrah, and is able to rescue at the very least a few of his family members. He gives us every reason to believe He has become the great man of God we know him to be. And now, right after God shows up, in this amazing place of faith and strength, on the cusp of the promise being fulfilled, we come to the place (way, way far back) that this post began.
Now Abraham moved on from there into the region of the Negev and lived between Kadesh and Shur. For a while he stayed in Gerar, and here Abraham said of his wife Sarah, “She is my sister.” Then Abimelech king of Gerar sent for Sarah and took her.
Having taken a look at Sarah’s journey to this point, when I sit with her on the cold hard floor of the harem, I have a lot less to say to her. I have a lot more respect for her pain, her confusion, and suddenly instead of all the useless things I might think of to say to her, I’m asking questions with her. (Pretend you don’t know the end of the story. It helps.)
I’d have a few questions for Abraham. I’m guessing there is a part of Sarah that understands Abraham and Abraham’s weaknesses. I mean, she struggled to believe too. But it doesn’t change the pain. This man just stood up to God on behalf of an entire city of pagans, but he didn’t lift a finger to defend her. What about all the beautiful moments they had shared since they heard God’s promise together? Were all the things he said lies? Did he not mean them? Or did he just change his mind? So God was a shield for Abraham and would protect him, so he could go save Lot, but not her? And what did Abraham believe anyway? That God still meant all these promises for him but not for her? That they weren’t connected after all? That she was a dispensable part of the plan? Couldn’t he at least have waited it out for ONE year? Yes, they are important questions, but really very insignificant compared to the questions I’d have for God. I think Sarah’s greatest question to God was this: Do You make promises You don't keep?
Will You keep your promise to me? Will you give me my Isaac? God, are You any different than him?
Will You abandon me too? I think her heart just about exploded with emotion.
Why now? Why after everything became so clear? Why after the assurance that she was given by God that she was the one? Was God just playing with her? Teasing her by opening her heart up to desire what she had all but given up on just to snatch it away again? Or was it possible that somehow, by Abraham’s actions, God’s promise to her could become void? Did Abraham have the power to undo it? Why would God make a promise He couldn’t keep? Could God even be trusted? If you think Sarah didn’t ask these questions, think again. When we come to the place where our faith in God is tested--where the facts don’t line up with the truth He has told us—we only have three places to go in our heads. I got it wrong, it wasn’t God. It was God, but He doesn’t mean it anymore, or at least not like I thought. It was God, it is God, and He will somehow change the facts to line up with the truth He has spoken. Unfortunately, the only place to get our answer is Him—the very One we’re having issues with. Yes, we all know the end of the story. God miraculously intervened on Sarah’s behalf. He did everything He needed to do to keep His promise. Despite Abraham. Despite Sarah. And in the timeframe He had spoken, Isaac was born. (Nothing is impossible with God.) But I find myself asking God, is that always the case? Do You always intervene? Do Your promises always imply a one-way covenant? What if they are dependent on our choices? Could Your promises to me be nullified by my own actions or the actions of another? I used to think I knew the answers. Now I’m much more acquainted with the questions.
I am no longer a fatalist. I believe God gives us choice and our choices have consequences. I would like to believe that God knows ahead of time where those choices will lead us, and that His promises are made in His knowing the end from the beginning. But maybe that’s just an oversimplification, a way we try to control God and relieve ourselves of responsibility. But in this case...God came through.
I’m so glad God didn’t let anything get in the way of His promises to Sarah. I’m so glad He didn’t let anything get in the way of His promises to Abraham. I don’t have a guarantee, but I have a prayer...that someday I'll be able to look back and see that God was consistent and true to Himself, and to me, all along. Because my God is the God of Abraham, and perhaps even more importantly, the God of Sarah.
Every time I read this statement my insides cramp up into a dull nausea. I shudder. It makes my skin crawl. Out of context, as an isolated sentence, unattached to any particular person or any specific circumstance, words simply written on a page—they aren’t so awful. Brotherly love is noble. Telling someone your needs, especially your wife, isn’t necessarily unhealthy. It’s all good, right? Not when we know the context in which these words were spoken. We know whom they were spoken by, to, and about. We know the history behind them. We know that in fact, they are true, and yet their meaning was twisted to serve untruth. What we are never told is how the “her” in this story felt about them. You might say Scripture doesn’t tell us, so it’s not important. I disagree. I believe there are places in Scripture that the author actually invites us to speculate. To wonder. To enter into the story. To read ourselves into the situation so that we might FEEL something about it. In these places God can speak to us about our lives, and His work in them. This passage has been one of those places I’ve entered into that way. I’d like to share the thoughts that have come to my mind as I have pondered this story, and Sarah’s journey.Consider this:
Now Abraham moved on from there into the region of the Negev and lived between Kadesh and Shur. For a while he stayed in Gerar, and here Abraham said of his wife Sarah, “She is my sister.” Then Abimelech king of Gerar sent for Sarah and took her. Gen. 20:1-2
He did it again. It’s the cry that must have echoed in Sarah’s soul through this dark night.
Feel her pain reverberating heaven-bound into a prayer.
Imagine her sitting in the dark on the harem floor the first night, preferring it's cold compress to the soft solace of pillows and blankets. Way past despair, the engulfing blackness pressing her spirit toward numbness, fighting to keep her soul from caving in, she may have managed to whisper, “God, only You can save me now.” I used to look at this part of Abraham’s story as mostly about Abraham. My attitude toward it was a mixture of contempt and sympathy. Somewhere between “How could you be so stupid to make exactly the same mistake twice?” and “Yeah, I’ve done that, too.” But I see something different now, something more. Abraham’s offense to Sarah was much worse the second time around. And for Sarah, there was now much more at stake than a marital betrayal. Now in question were the words and promises of God. If you take a good look at Abraham and Sarah’s journey in sequence, it is very interesting to note what revelations were given, to whom, and how things became more specific and more clear over time. (This is gonna take a while, so get comfortable.) So we have to go back about 23 years to where God shows up first to Abram, who at the time was married to a barren Sarai. God gives him a command and a promise. The command was to leave and go to a land God would show him. The promise was that God would make of him into a great nation, give him a great name, and the ability to bless many people. Abram believed God enough to accept the promise and obey the command. (Gen. 11-12) But it isn’t until a while later that God appears to him and makes it clear that this promise will be through Abram’s offspring or seed. Abram built an altar in that place—a reminder that God spoke a promise to him—a good idea, because he seems to have trouble remembering. All seems well…then something goes wrong. Because of a famine Abram makes his way to Egypt to find food. Then the “facts” begin to overwhelm Abram. He becomes afraid that he will lose his life because of Sarai’s beauty and begins a pattern of deception that will haunt Abram and his descendents for many years to come. And so Sarai joins Pharaoh’s harem. I wonder what was going through Sarah’s heart and mind at this point. Sarai knew she was barren. In ancient days, you never hear that a man can’t have children. Its always considered a female issue. But because Pharaoh didn’t realize she was married, he didn’t know she was barren. In a culture where a woman’s value, and a man’s stature and livelihood depended on his heirs—Sarai must have felt pierced on two accounts. Her husband had forsaken her for his own protection. All illusions that he would love her enough to fight for her to the death were ground to a pulp. He walked her into a dangerous place knowing it could threaten his marriage. It didn’t even seem to occur to him that he had another choice. He didn’t even consult God about it that we know of.
What must that have felt like to Sarai? Maybe he didn’t really want her. Perhaps he wanted a way out. This would release Abram from being “faithful” to her. Now he was free to enter into another marriage. All Sarai’s feelings of inadequacy and insecurity must have risen to the surface. Her hopes that God would fulfill the promise to Abram through her now completely dashed. She didn’t know for sure if God meant it would be through her—and at her age, it seemed crazy to hope. But I’d bet my last dollar it was the cry of her heart. And now, I bet she felt so stupid for having wished for that. But it gets worse, she was faced with a further humiliation. Pharaoh would eventually discover she was barren, and then what would become of her? Would he have any use for an aging wife who could bear no children? Can you see Satan’s whispers to her? Ha, you wanted to believe you were someone special. This promise from God doesn’t need you. God only cares about Abram. There is no hope for you. God doesn’t want you anymore, you’re no use. Abram doesn’t want you anymore, he’s better off without you. He even said so. And Pharaoh’s gonna find out soon enough that you won’t serve him any purpose either. You are nothing. But the Lord intervened, and so Abram went on his way with Sarai and returned to the place where he had first met God. God spoke to Abram and confirmed again His promise to him. He even told Abram to walk the land, and take it all in. To savor the enormity of the gift He was bestowing upon Him. And there, Abram had a few great moments. He risked himself in battle, recovering Lot and his possessions, and he even gave God credit for all that had been given him. Then something significant happens. God shows up to Abram in a vision and says this, “Do not be afraid, Abram. I am your shield, your very great reward.” Simply stated, God is saying, “I AM your protection, and through me all your blessings will come.” God is saying I will keep you safe so that I can give you all your blessings.
Abram’s response to God makes so much sense—He reminds God that he STILL doesn’t have a child. So what else matters since He doesn’t have the one blessing that will lead to all the others? Then he tells God how he’s gonna resolve the dilemma. His servant will be his heir. And the Lord clearly spoke, affirming the words He had already given Abram. “It will be a son coming from your own body.” Your offspring. Your seed. And then God did something really beautiful. He gave Abram a picture. A visual reminder. No less significant than Noah’s rainbow. He said, “Look up at the heavens and count the stars.” “So shall your offspring be.” Now every time Abram looked up at the night sky, he would see God’s promise. Abram believed God. It was credited to him as something that He did that was right. Makes sense, doesn’t it—that when He tells us something, the right thing to do is to believe Him? God made another promise to Abram. He said I brought you to this land, and now I’m going to give you possession of it. But here Abram wavers a bit. How will I know that this will happen? Can’t you give me some proof? God doesn’t give him proof. He gives him a covenant. A promise. A one way promise. Which meant, no matter what, the covenant depended only on God, not on Abram. And God keeps his word. But time passed. Meanwhile nothing happened. Those are the hardest times to believe. Can you see their minds churning? We must have missed it. We must have misunderstood. What did God say? Did he say Sarai? No. Not specifically. So it must be up to us to do something. And like Abraham offered his servant to God as an heir, Sarai offered her maidservant to Abram as the bearer of the heir. We could be really hard on them at this point, but there’s a couple of things I’d like to point out here. First, Abram and Sarah were going against everything that looked like fact to them to believe God. They were old. They didn’t have any children. And they didn’t really know all that much about God. They had no Bible, they had very little information. In the time and culture of that day it was acceptable for a woman to offer her maidservant to her husband to bear a child. You say they should have known better. I think it’s more fair to say that Abram and Sarai were doing their best to try and "help" God keep his promises. They were going on what they knew and understood within the context of what He said. They were trying to make sense of the information they had. I think where they missed it over and over again was in the simple lack of seeking God before they acted and waiting for Him to lead. And here, the text tells us that Abram listened not to God, but to Sarai. This is a very important lesson. Even when those closest to us seem to lead us in what makes sense—we must always listen for Yahweh’s voice. Perhaps Sarai had grown a bit jaded over the years. Obviously God didn’t mean me, so go ahead and do what you need to do. I won’t keep you from your “blessing.” She even tried to cheer herself up. I’ll still get my family through Hagar. But when she began to be treated with contempt by the woman she had leant to her husband, it all just fell apart inside. The hurt she’d been suppressing erupted. Her words are so poignant to Abram,
“You are responsible for the wrong I am suffering. I put my servant in your arms, and now that she knows she is pregnant, she despises me.”
Sarai was reaping what both she and Abram sowed. Neither of them had consulted God and both were suffering the consequences. Thirteen years later, God shows up and reconfirms his covenant with Abram. Gives him a new name, and gives him and his descendants a responsibility—an act of obedience--within the covenant. And for the first time God does something else. He gives Abraham the piece of information he’d been missing all this time. God gave Sarai a new name and a promise. Sarah (it means princess) would be the one through whom Abraham’s blessing would come. He told Abraham their son’s name and something even more specific. He gave him a timeframe. He said that Sarah would bear Isaac by this time the following year. And Abraham believed God. How do we know? (I’m not a guy, but I’m pretty certain you’d have to be pretty certain that God was the one talking to you before you went ahead and cut yourself and the rest of the males in your household in such a sensitive place.) When you believe what God is telling you, you are willing to do what He asks of you, even if it seems a bit extreme. Before you can act, you must first believe. Interestingly enough, God showed up again and told Abraham in Sarah’s hearing that Sarah would bear a son by that time next year. Most of the attention focused on this story rests on Sarah’s laugh—a doubting laugh, one that I’m guessing was soon quieted, perhaps in humilty and gratitude. But I want to focus on what you might see as a minor detail, but I think it’s huge. God made sure Sarah knew that His promise was to her, not just to Abraham. And God made sure that Abraham knew Sarah knew. Ponder this. All these years…24 years since God first told Abram he would have an heir…Sarah never knew for sure if God meant her. God had never clearly spoken about it. But now…she had God’s word that Isaac would not only come through Abraham, but through her as well. She had hoped and then had been disappointed. Maybe at times she trusted, she believed…like when God saved her from Pharaoh’s harem…that must have been why…right? But then so much time passed, it was too hard. She settled for less. She got used to the idea of Ishmael. But I think deep down she felt abandoned. Unimportant--that’s how God viewed women, right? They were a dispensable part of the plan. But no…God spoke. Sarah was blessed too. Sarah had a new name too. She was included. She was honored. She had not been forsaken or forgotten or set aside. She had not kept Abraham from his dreams or his purpose. In fact, she was going to be the one with whom his dreams would come to life. God had named her son. He would give her an Isaac through Abraham. And if that weren’t enough? It would be within a year. No more waiting and waiting and waiting without proof. She had to get pregnant within the next three months. Can you feel her breaking free from all the horrible untruths and doubts and hurts and fears she’d been carrying around all this time? Can you feel The Accuser finally losing the power to tell her lies about herself? Can you feel the shame she had been carrying in front of everyone begin to fade? Can you feel the doubting, hopeless laugh begin to regain its sweetness, its faith, its strength? And Abraham seems to be gaining strength too. He has another shining moment. He stands up for the perishing souls in Sodom and Gomorrah, and is able to rescue at the very least a few of his family members. He gives us every reason to believe He has become the great man of God we know him to be. And now, right after God shows up, in this amazing place of faith and strength, on the cusp of the promise being fulfilled, we come to the place (way, way far back) that this post began.
Now Abraham moved on from there into the region of the Negev and lived between Kadesh and Shur. For a while he stayed in Gerar, and here Abraham said of his wife Sarah, “She is my sister.” Then Abimelech king of Gerar sent for Sarah and took her.
Having taken a look at Sarah’s journey to this point, when I sit with her on the cold hard floor of the harem, I have a lot less to say to her. I have a lot more respect for her pain, her confusion, and suddenly instead of all the useless things I might think of to say to her, I’m asking questions with her. (Pretend you don’t know the end of the story. It helps.)
I’d have a few questions for Abraham. I’m guessing there is a part of Sarah that understands Abraham and Abraham’s weaknesses. I mean, she struggled to believe too. But it doesn’t change the pain. This man just stood up to God on behalf of an entire city of pagans, but he didn’t lift a finger to defend her. What about all the beautiful moments they had shared since they heard God’s promise together? Were all the things he said lies? Did he not mean them? Or did he just change his mind? So God was a shield for Abraham and would protect him, so he could go save Lot, but not her? And what did Abraham believe anyway? That God still meant all these promises for him but not for her? That they weren’t connected after all? That she was a dispensable part of the plan? Couldn’t he at least have waited it out for ONE year? Yes, they are important questions, but really very insignificant compared to the questions I’d have for God. I think Sarah’s greatest question to God was this: Do You make promises You don't keep?
Will You keep your promise to me? Will you give me my Isaac? God, are You any different than him?
Will You abandon me too? I think her heart just about exploded with emotion.
Why now? Why after everything became so clear? Why after the assurance that she was given by God that she was the one? Was God just playing with her? Teasing her by opening her heart up to desire what she had all but given up on just to snatch it away again? Or was it possible that somehow, by Abraham’s actions, God’s promise to her could become void? Did Abraham have the power to undo it? Why would God make a promise He couldn’t keep? Could God even be trusted? If you think Sarah didn’t ask these questions, think again. When we come to the place where our faith in God is tested--where the facts don’t line up with the truth He has told us—we only have three places to go in our heads. I got it wrong, it wasn’t God. It was God, but He doesn’t mean it anymore, or at least not like I thought. It was God, it is God, and He will somehow change the facts to line up with the truth He has spoken. Unfortunately, the only place to get our answer is Him—the very One we’re having issues with. Yes, we all know the end of the story. God miraculously intervened on Sarah’s behalf. He did everything He needed to do to keep His promise. Despite Abraham. Despite Sarah. And in the timeframe He had spoken, Isaac was born. (Nothing is impossible with God.) But I find myself asking God, is that always the case? Do You always intervene? Do Your promises always imply a one-way covenant? What if they are dependent on our choices? Could Your promises to me be nullified by my own actions or the actions of another? I used to think I knew the answers. Now I’m much more acquainted with the questions.
I am no longer a fatalist. I believe God gives us choice and our choices have consequences. I would like to believe that God knows ahead of time where those choices will lead us, and that His promises are made in His knowing the end from the beginning. But maybe that’s just an oversimplification, a way we try to control God and relieve ourselves of responsibility. But in this case...God came through.
I’m so glad God didn’t let anything get in the way of His promises to Sarah. I’m so glad He didn’t let anything get in the way of His promises to Abraham. I don’t have a guarantee, but I have a prayer...that someday I'll be able to look back and see that God was consistent and true to Himself, and to me, all along. Because my God is the God of Abraham, and perhaps even more importantly, the God of Sarah.
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