Yesterday, Abram stood under a sky full of stars and believed the impossible promise of God. It was one of the great moments of faith in the entire Bible. Today, we find out what happens when the waiting gets too long.
Because the promise was made in Genesis 15. And the child hasn’t come. And Sarai is still barren. And time is moving. And someone in the tent has an idea.
Yesterday, Abram stood under a sky full of stars and believed the impossible promise of God. It was one of the great moments of faith in the entire Bible. Today, we find out what happens when the waiting gets too long.
Because the promise was made in Genesis 15. And the child hasn’t come. And Sarai is still barren. And time is moving. And someone in the tent has an idea.
The distance between a moment of faith and the moment of trying to engineer the outcome yourself is often shorter than we think. Yesterday’s surrender is not a guarantee of today’s patience.
Chapter 16. Sarai brings her Egyptian servant Hagar to Abram and says: the Lord has kept me from having children. Go in to my servant; perhaps I shall be built up through her. And Abram listened to the voice of Sarai.
— That phrase “And Abram listened to the voice of Sarai” echoes something. The last time a man listened to his wife over the voice of God, they were standing beside a tree in a garden. The parallels in Genesis are never accidental.
Hagar conceives. And immediately everything fractures. Hagar looks on Sarai with contempt. Sarai blames Abram. Abram hands the situation back to Sarai. Sarai treats Hagar harshly. And Hagar the one with the least power in this entire arrangement, the servant who had no say in any of it flees into the wilderness alone and pregnant.
When we try to help God along with our own plans, other people usually pay the price. The consequences of our impatience rarely stay contained to us.
And here is where the chapter does something breathtaking. God does not follow Abram into the wilderness. He does not appear to Sarai. He appears to Hagar. The Egyptian slave, the woman who had been used and mistreated and driven out God finds her beside a spring in the desert and asks her where she has come from and where she is going.
She tells Him. And He speaks to her. He sees her. He names the child she is carrying and tells her to go back, and promises that Ishmael will be the father of a great nation. And Hagar says something that has never been said in Scripture before:
“She gave this name to the Lord who spoke to her:
‘You are the God who sees me.’”
— Genesis 16:13
El Roi. The God who sees. Not the God of Abraham only. The God who walks into the wilderness where the forgotten ones have been driven and says: I see you. I know where you came from. I know where you are going. You are not invisible to me.
Whatever you have been driven out of whatever loss or betrayal or circumstance has left you beside a spring in a desert with nothing but what you carried on your back El Roi has not lost sight of you. He was there before you arrived. He is there now.
Genesis 17 is thirteen years later. Thirteen years of silence since the promise. Thirteen years of raising Ishmael, the son of the shortcut. And God appears again and speaks to Abram and this time He changes his name. Abram becomes Abraham. Sarai becomes Sarah. New names for a new chapter. And God reaffirms the covenant with specific, impossible clarity: Sarah will bear you a son. You will call him Isaac.
“Is anything too hard for the Lord?”
— Genesis 18:14
Abraham falls on his face and laughs. He is ninety-nine years old. Sarah is ninety. Is anything too hard for the Lord? In the original Hebrew, the word translated “hard” also carries the sense of “wonderful” or “extraordinary.” Is anything too extraordinary for the Lord? Is anything too wonderful?
The very thing that makes you laugh in disbelief the promise so large you cannot hold it without dropping it is exactly the kind of thing God specialises in. He is drawn to the impossible. He is never more Himself than when He is doing what no one thought could be done.
Chapter 18 brings three visitors to Abraham’s tent in the heat of the day. He runs to meet them. He urges them to stay. He hurries to have bread baked, a calf prepared. And they confirm: this time next year, Sarah will have a son. Sarah is listening from inside the tent. And she laughs.
And God hears it. He asks Abraham: why did Sarah laugh? And Sarah, afraid, denies it. But God says simply: no, you did laugh. He is not rebuking her. He is naming the truth. And then He asks the question that hangs over everything: is anything too hard for the Lord?
— He already knew the answer. He was asking it for her sake. Sometimes the question is the point.
The chapter ends on the road to Sodom, Abraham walking with God, and God about to show him something that will test his intercession and his understanding of mercy in ways he cannot yet imagine.
God lets us walk with Him toward the hard things. He does not take us around them. But He takes us through them in His company and that changes everything about the experience.
Speak this over yourself today:
I will not try to help God along with my own shortcuts.
El Roi sees me even in the wilderness,
even when I have been driven out.
Is anything too wonderful for the Lord? No. Nothing.
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