In the past couple of weeks since Easter, we have ‘heard’
women of the Old Testament share their stories. We have heard how God loves us
through our ‘what ifs’ and provides a new promise when things look really
scary, and everything you know has washed away. Sometimes the answering of an
impossible prayer is how God responds to our needs. Sarah speaks to us from her life:
I was born in Haran.
When I was old enough, my father gave me in marriage to my half-brother Abram.
It wasn’t long after that when Abram told us all that he knew Elohim, the
Living God, had told him to leave Haran. We all argued with him. I was full of
questions and arguments.
“How can you want to
leave all we have ever known? How can you ask me to leave my family and
friends? You don’t even know where you are going. The people are strange to us.
It could be dangerous. Our father will never know the joy of holding our
children if we leave.”
If I thought any of my
words would have any affect, I was wrong. The man simply smiled and assured us
all, “The Living God will provide a way in the wilderness. Remember how our
Grandfather left Ur to come here? This is just another part of that journey.”
Of course I had no
choice. When Abram was ready, I followed him down the road out of Haran. Our
father walked slowly beside us to the edge of town. There he embraced us and
turned back. I felt tears welling in my eyes. They spilled over when the old
man turned back.
“May the God of my
father, whom you follow, go with you and bless you and give you sons and
daughters.”
I shed many more tears
over the years that followed. There were no children at our tent doors. The
Living God spoke to Abram, promising him offspring and even changing his name
from Abram to Abraham. The new name felt like a knife in my heart because I was
barren and could not be the instrument to make him the ‘father of many’ as the
name indicated.
I knew I was cursed
because I had doubted Abram’s call from God, and now I was past the age of
child bearing. My monthly cycles had ended. There was nothing left for me but
to dry up and die like a desert weed. In desperation, I allowed my Egyptian
slave girl to bear a son with Abram. It was a custom of the people we lived
among and one that Hagar was familiar with, too.
“At least he will have
an heir of some sort,” I tried to comfort myself as I watched her belly and
attitude swelling.
Ishmael was born, a
strong and healthy boy. Hagar’s pride knew no bounds. I spent most of my days
in the tent weaving furiously so that I didn’t have to watch Abram playing with
the baby. Most of the time I could barely see the cloth for the tears rimming
my eyes.
One day Abram welcomed
three strangers to our tent. We were pasturing the flocks near Mamre. As usual,
I was in the tent. I heard Abraham greet someone.
My husband spoke the
standard desert greeting, “Let water be brought to wash your feet. Rest here
and I will bring bread.”
“Make three cakes of
fine flour. I will prepare a calf as well,” my husband told me as he rushed
through the tent.
He did not see my
astonished expression. I peeked out at our guests wondering who they were to
merit such regal treatment. To my eyes, there was nothing surprising or special
about them. To please Abraham, I made my special cakes, which were usually
reserved for feast days.
I lingered near the
tent opening when Abraham returned and served his guests. I heard one ask
“Where is your wife, Sarah?”
My eyes opened wide in
astonishment. How could these strangers know my name?
Abraham shrugged
toward the tent, “She is there in the tent.”
“I will return to you
at the right time, and Sarah shall bear a son.” The stranger’s audacious
statement made me gasp and then chuckle in derision.
“Am I to have the joy
of a child now that I am old?” I felt my lip curl slightly, even as tears
blurred my eyes and a strange hope struggled in my heart.
The stranger could not
have heard me, but he said, “Why did Sarah laugh and say, ‘Shall I bear a child
at my age?’ Is anything to wonderful for the Living God? I will return to you
and Sarah will have a son.”
“I didn’t laugh,” the whispered
denial was almost drowned by the frightened pounding of my heart.
The stranger smiled in
the direction of the tent. It was a tender and understanding expression as he
nodded, “Yes, you laughed.”
Soon the trio and
Abraham walked away from the tent. I was left with a tumult of thoughts.
Uppermost was an almost unbearable feeling of hope.
“Could it be true?” I
asked myself again and again. I even asked Abraham.
“The Living God has
promised to give you a son,” he responded as if it was the most natural thing
in the world for a 99 year-old woman to have a baby.
When my body began to
change, I remained hidden. I was not prepared to answer questions about how
such a miracle could happen. Slowly I gained the confidence, and faith, to
accept the reality that I would be a mother. The women of the camp rejoiced
with me when I finally admitted that I was pregnant.
After 9 months, a son
was born. Abraham named him Isaac, a reminder of both my laughter at the
promise, and the joy the child brought to our lives.
“Who could have
guessed that Sarah would nurse a child? I have born a son to my husband in his
old age.” I laughed and rejoiced with the man.
“There is nothing
impossible for the Living God,” agreed Abraham.
Has there been a time in your life when you doubted that
something would happen?
How has God kept a promise to you?
(Image: 'The Hospitality of Abraham', 13th Century Byzantine Icon)
(c) Cynthia Davis 2017
