There Are No Mere Mortals
Do you see people? Not just see, but notice. Do you notice the people you interact with daily? People in your home, your spouse and kids, your roommates. People you work with. People you worship with. People you encounter at the grocery store, restaurant, gym, airport.
In his sermon The Weight of Glory, C. S. Lewis said, “It is a serious thing…to remember that the dullest most uninteresting person you can talk to may one day be a creature which, if you saw it now, you would be strongly tempted to worship, or else a horror and a corruption such as you now meet, if at all, only in a nightmare…it is with the awe and the circumspection proper to them, that we should conduct all of our dealings with one another, all friendships, all loves, all play, all politics. There are no ordinary people. You have never talked to a mere mortal. Nations, cultures, arts, civilizations – these are mortal, and their life is to ours as the life of a gnat. But it is immortals whom we joke with, work with, marry, snub, and exploit – immortal horrors or everlasting splendors.”
Faith Followed by Unbelief
Today we’re going to look at a text of Scripture about the mistreatment of one of God’s immortal image-bearers, a young woman named Hagar. Her mistreatment is the result of Abram and Sarai’s lack of trust in the word of God. Their unbelief leads them to do unbelievable things to an unbeliever. Isn’t it true of us that we’ll look down on unbelievers even while we struggle with unbelief?
Genesis 16 is where we find the story of Hagar and Sarai. This chapter follows chapter 15, the great faith chapter (v. 6). But then in chapter 16 there’s a great lapse of faith.
Sarai and Abram have been in the land of Canaan for ten years (v. 3) and are growing impatient. God promised them offspring, even a biological son (15:4). He enshrined these promises in a covenant sealed with blood (15:17-18). But they’re tired of waiting and take matters into their own hands.
Genesis 16 is a classic example of humans trying to bring about God’s plan in their way. The way of faith is abandoned for the way of human calculation. Their scheme only makes things worse and brings misery into their family and leads to the mistreatment of a young lady from another land. But, despite the unbelief and misery their sin creates, mercy is there too.
The main point of Genesis 16 and the main point of this sermon is that there’s mercy in the midst of misery. In verses 1-6, we see the consequences of unbelief. In verses 7-16, we see God’s care for unbelievers. Misery, then mercy.
Misery
Verse 1 introduces the main characters of this story (Sarai and Hagar) and the main problem (Sarai’s barrenness). The narrator Moses makes it clear at the outset that Sarai is “Abram’s wife.” He says it again in verse 3 and says that Abram is “her husband.” God’s intention from the beginning was monogamous marriage. Abram had a wife, so he shouldn’t take another one.
In verses 2-6, we see that Sarai is tired of waiting on the fulfillment of the promise. She’s convinced it won’t happen, even saying that it’s God’s fault that it’s not happening. She’s thinking, “If God really made this promise, then why would he prevent it from happening?” This leads her to develop an alternative plan. She’ll give her servant to her husband.
Connections to Genesis 3 and Genesis 12
In verses 2-6, there are several connections back to Genesis 3. Verse 2a, “And Sarai said to Abram” sounds like 3:2, “And the woman said to.” Verse 2b, “And Abram listened to the voice of Sarai” sounds like 3:17, “Because you have listened to the voice of your wife.” Verse 3, “Sarai…took Hagar…and gave her to Abram…as a wife” sounds like 3:6, “She took of its fruit and ate, and she also gave some to her husband who was with her.”
Narrator Moses is intentionally shaping this passage to remind us of the Fall into sin in Genesis 3. Sarai and Abram are reenacting the events of the Garden. And here, just like there, there’s a role reversal that creates all kinds of problems. Instead of Sarai humbly following and deferring to Abram, she takes the initiative and leads Abram by telling him to do what he ought not to do. And instead of Abram humbly leading and protecting Sarai, he defers to her and does what she says. This is a complete failure of leadership on his part. He should’ve said, “No, we’re not going to do it that way. We’re going to call upon the name of the Lord and ask him to open your womb.” Their marriage, like so many, suffered because roles were reversed and the fallout was devastating.
Abram takes Hagar as a second wife, sleeps with her, and she conceives. Realizing that she’s pregnant, she rubs it in Sarai’s face (v. 4). Hagar conceives and becomes conceited. Sarai’s intention was that Hagar would give her and Abram a son, be a surrogate mom basically. She didn’t anticipate the tension that this would create between her and Hagar, especially in a culture that equated childbearing with status and honor.
There’s another allusion to a previous section of Genesis in verse 4. The word for “contempt” is the same word used in 12:3 for “dishonor.” Part of the Abrahamic blessing was “him who dishonors you I will curse.” Abram and Sarai are one flesh, so when Hagar dishonors Sarai, Moses the narrator may be signaling that she’s also aligning herself with the cursed line of the serpent, with all those who oppose God’s work in the world. It appears that Moses is aligning Hagar with anyone who opposes Abram’s family.
Sarai Blames Abram
Sarai responds in verse 5 with understandable anger and rage. The ironic thing is that this was all Sarai’s idea! She more or less calls a curse down on Abram and blames him for what would’ve been a fairly predictable outcome, even though she initiated the whole thing.
The scene from the Garden continues to repeat itself. The guilty parties don’t want to admit their guilt. Don’t we do this too? Aren’t we quick to defend our actions and make other people feel bad for the stupid things we do?
Abram’s Cold Heart
Abram responds in verse 6 by placing Hagar back under the authority of Sarai. Notice that he doesn’t even refer to Hagar by name, but only by label, “your servant.” Depersonalizing those we harm is our way of trying to escape the truth that we’ve harmed a person. Turning people into objects instead of image-bearers is our attempt to make our sin more palatable.
Abram’s heart toward this young foreign girl couldn’t have been colder, “do to her as you please.” And this is exactly what Sarai did. She “dealt harshly with her.” Her mask falls down and reveals the hatred that was behind all her talk of justice. She despised Hagar, so Hagar received the full force of her rage. It got so bad, that Hagar’s only hope was to run away.
This scene ends in total disaster for all involved. Hagar loses her home. Sarai loses her servant and her integrity. And Abram loses his second wife, his first child, and his honor.
Blind Spots
Let’s zoom out for a moment and consider what’s happening here. This triangle of trouble was all the result of Sarai and Abram’s failure to trust the word of God. They abandoned the way of faith and chose the way of human calculation, which created a chain of events that spiraled out of control, leaving everyone hurt in the process. Abram and Sarai sought to live outside God-given marital boundaries, leading to familial trouble for generations. Faith should’ve taken them a different way.
We wonder, “Why would they do this? How could they do this?” They did this because this is the way you did things in their culture. If your wife couldn’t have children, you’d just get another wife. They embraced a culturally acceptable convention to bring about the promises of God. They turned to the flesh instead of to faith to accomplish the plan of God.
Jim Hamilton says that this begs a question for us: In what ways has our culture made unbelief and action in the flesh seem natural to us? Maybe in church, when we trust in personalities and programs to build the church instead of the word of God. Maybe in evangelism, when we trust human methods instead of the word and prayer. Maybe in financial provision, when we come up with all kinds of ways to make money that don’t involve hard work, persistence, and frugality.
In Abram’s culture, it was obvious that this was the thing to do. We call these things “blind spots.” Future generations will look at us and our blind spots will be obvious to them. They’ll see our blind spots with the same clarity that we see Abram’s blind spots.
When we read a passage like this, we need to respond in humility. None of us would’ve done any better than Sarai and Abram. They were recently converted pagans living and thinking and scheming like recently converted pagans. Thankfully this isn’t where their story ends. But their failure to trust the promises of God brings conflict into their lives and brings harm to those around them. Their failure to trust God leads to misery, not happiness.
Mercy
Into this misery comes God’s mercy. Look what happens with Hagar in verses 7-16. Abram and Sarai fail Hagar, but the Lord finds her. There are consequences for unbelief and there’s care for unbelievers.
Verse 7 says that the Lord finds her by the spring “on the way to Shur.” This is a desert on the way to Egypt, indicating that Hagar is returning to Egypt, to her homeland. Hagar is going back to her people and maybe back to her gods. We really can’t blame her. If we’d been treated the way she was, we’d want to go back home too.
On her way home, something remarkable happens to this unbelieving Egyptian. “The angel of the Lord found her.” This angel is identified with the Lord later in verse 13 and he speaks as if he’s God, making promises and predictions in verses 11-12. There’s debate amongst scholars about this, but the “angel of the Lord” is a manifestation of the presence of the Lord himself, God coming to someone in human form. Arguments can be made that the angel of the Lord is the second person of the Trinity, a pre-incarnate Christ. Many of the church fathers understood the angel of the Lord to be the Son of God because he always came as mediator between God and men.
What we know for sure in this text is that God cares for Hagar when no one else did. Notice that the Lord speaks to her using her name (v. 8). Whenever possible, speak to people using their name. It’s a small but obvious way to notice someone’s humanity, their existence, that they’re more than an object.
Alone in the Wilderness
Hagar is young, pregnant, and alone in the wilderness. Do you ever feel like you’re on your own? Maybe a parent or a spouse has deserted you, friends turned against you, you’re in a new city with no new network of relationships. Maybe your house or apartment is full of people but you can’t shake the feeling of being alone. Your heart is full of grief that no one seems to notice. You have a story of harm and pain that no one seems interested in understanding. You have a marriage that is existing but not thriving. You have children that are bringing you to the end of yourself. You have a walk with God that seems driven by duty instead of delight.
You’re alone in the wilderness, like Hagar. You wonder if anyone sees, cares, knows, or hears your cries. You’re fleeing pain, like Hagar, only to find more pain. You’re alone in the wilderness, thirsty, scared, trying to find your way back home. What will happen to you?
It’s here, right here, where God comes to us, where he finds us. He comes with questions, not accusations. He comes with care and concern, not condemnation. He comes to engage you, to save you, to love you, not just to fix you.
God comes to us, like he came to Hagar, with interest in her, with curiosity, with questions, not because he doesn’t know the answers, but because he wants us to think about how our lives have become what they are. He wants us to be curious enough to consider how we got to where we are. He wants us to study the great tragedy and beauty that our stories reveal. We’ll study anything but our pain and then wonder why we hurt so much. Pretending you’re okay if you’re not okay is not the way.
The busyness and outward pleasantness of your life may give the impression that you’re okay, but your heart is aching and afraid and angry and you have no idea why. It’s here where the Lord finds us, sees us, hears us, and comes to heal us. What we need to do is go to the Lord, go to trusted friends, go to a counselor, go to our journal, and repeat until help and healing comes.
If Hagar’s story teaches us anything, it teaches us that the Lord loves to bring his mercy to bear on our misery. God turns his attention to an outsider who’d been pushed out by insiders. This text shows us that God cares for those outside the elect line of promise, that God loves and cares for unbelievers. He doesn’t see them as kindling for the fires of hell. He sees them as people who need his care, so he goes to them. He goes toward troubled ones, and so should we.
The Lord Comes with Questions
There are further echoes here of what happens in the Garden of Eden. Just as the Lord sought Adam and Eve after the fall, so the angel of the Lord seeks Hagar in the wilderness. Just as he approached Adam and Eve with questions instead of accusations, so he does so with Hagar. Christian counselor Jay Stringer reflects on this, saying, “The voice of the Lord is never filled with accusation or frustration. God’s presence invites us to greater reflection as to how our unwanted lives became the way they are today.”[1]
Unlike Adam or Cain, instead of dodging the questions, Hagar tells the truth about her situation (v. 8b). She’s not entirely innocent, but she’s where she is because of the harmful actions of others. She’s honest about her situation.
A Command, a Blessing, and a Prediction
In verse 9, the Lord tells her to go back to Sarai. Why would he want that? Because he doesn’t want her to die. She should go back home because she’ll die out in the wilderness alone. And because he wants to bless her. There’s a renewed hope of blessing (v. 10).
But this promise of blessing for Hagar comes with an ominous prediction concerning her son (vv. 11-12). God has heard Hagar’s affliction, a fact that will be memorialized in the naming of her son “Ishmael,” meaning “God hears.” But this son will be like a “wild donkey” (v. 12). He’ll be wild and free and there will be animosity between him and everyone else, especially his brothers. The freedom that his mother sought will be his one day, but it’ll be a freedom marked by constant conflict with Israel, even down to this day.
“The Lord Sees Me”
After receiving this message from the angel of the Lord, Hagar responds by recognizing God’s care (vv. 13-14). She realizes that the Lord has seen her in her affliction, a seeing that resulted in “looking after.” God of course sees everything. But this kind of seeing means that he notices what’s going on and steps in to do something about it.
In the moment of her greatest distress, Hagar discovers that God is concerned for her. He sees her and moves toward her with protection and blessing. This text is one of countless examples in the Bible of God moving toward the downtrodden.
One of the most tangible ways we can know that God sees us is when God’s people see us. When we move toward brothers and sisters in Christ with care and concern and help and encouragement, they’re reminded that there’s a God in heaven who sees them. They’re not alone and forgotten. God mediates his caring presence through our caring presence. Who can you minister to this week? How can you minister God’s mercy to someone in misery?
The chapter ends with nothing resolved. Sarai’s scheme only brought conflict. Hagar has her son and Abram names him Ishmael (vv. 15-16). Hagar suffered and was vindicated, not Sarai, despite all her authority and scheming.
Genesis 16 is the age-old story of people trying to bring about God’s plan in their way. The way of faith is abandoned for the way of human calculation. Their hasty action springing from unbelief doesn’t accomplish God’s plan and instead leads to conflict and pain. But, despite the unbelief and misery their sin creates, mercy is there too.
And so it is in our lives. In Jesus, the true and final mediator between God and men, we can find mercy in our misery. He died on the cross for our unbelief and for all the ways we harm one another. He entered into our suffering and suffered for us so that we can find mercy and help in our times of need. His steady love sets us free and compels us to see people around us the way he sees them and to take his mercy into their misery.
As Lewis said, “There are no ordinary people. You have never talked to a mere mortal.” All the “mere mortals” you know are carrying around bags of misery. Do you see them? They need God’s mercy, and you can be the one who takes it to them.
[1]Jay Stringer, Unwanted: How Sexual Brokenness Reveals Our Way to Healing (Colorado Springs: NavPress, 2018), xxv.