The Runaway
Shivering under a bush, exhausted and hungry, I finally found a stream, a much-needed respite, before I traveled more. I still had hundreds of miles to walk until I arrived back in Egypt. My mistress, Sarai, had always treated me well, but then the situation changed. Sarai was a disgraced barren woman. She had no children to carry on the family name, which meant everything to her and her husband.
I thought my life had hit its lowest point when I was taken as a handmaid and forced to move far from my homeland. From that point on, we lived in tents as we moved from place to place. This household taught me about a god named Yahweh. He seemed so different from the gods we worshipped in my previous life. Evidently this god had promised Sarai’s husband that he would not only have a son, but that his descendants would be numerous, as many as the stars, if one could count them.
Sarai was getting up there in years, well past the age of childbearing. It became obvious that the only way this household would have a future generation was through me. Yes, it was common at that time, so I wasn’t really surprised when she told me I would be sleeping with him in hopes that I would get pregnant to carry on the family name.
Her husband, Abram, was no spring chicken at age 85. He acquiesced to Sarai’s plan, slept with me and I did become pregnant. I began to feel superior to Sarai. If the child within me was a son, he would be the heir of this entire household. Not bad for a handmaiden’s child, right?
That’s when the tables turned and Sarai became furious with me. This was her idea and now she was blaming everyone but herself. In her rage of jealousy, she treated me so harshly that I knew I needed to run. There was no way I could stay in this situation. It was an extremely long journey back to Egypt, but what choice did I have?
As I rested at the stream that I mentioned earlier, I hit the lowest point of my life, pregnant, alone, homeless, and in the literal wilderness. The only thing in my favor was this stream.
What was I going to do? Could I even make it back to Egypt?
Suddenly, there He was.
I knew it was Him instantly.
With a voice like no other, He spoke to me, a nobody.
“Hagar, Sarai’s maid, where did you come from and where are you going?”
He even wanted to converse with me. How was this possible?
Fumbling with my words, I responded, “I am running away from my mistress Sarai.”
More words rumbled from Him, “Go back to your mistress, and submit humbly to her authority.”
“I have a plan for you and your son. I will greatly multiply your descendants so that they will be too many to count.”
“Listen now, you are with child, and you will deliver a son. His name will be Ishmael, which means God hears, because the LORD has heard and paid attention to your persecution and suffering.”
And then He was gone.
Talk about going from the lowest point of my life to my highest point in a matter of minutes.
How was it possible for me to hear from Him so directly and not have died on the spot?
I actually saw the God Who Sees Me.
From then on, He was no longer only the God of Abram and Sarai, but my own God who sees and watches over me.
My circumstances did not change. Anyone who happened to look at me would only see a lowly handmaiden. But once my eyes saw the One Who Sees Me, I knew I would never be out of His sight.