I have now seen the One that sees me!

I can’t take this anymore! Slapped by my mistress right across the face – it’s still stinging from the shame!

I willingly became a maidservant to the wife of the great man of God, Abraham.  Who wouldn’t have jumped at the chance?  Everything this man touched turned into gold!

His crops grew quickly and flourished in this desert soil. His sheep and goats multiplied endlessly. Every well he dug overflowed with fresh, life-giving water.

Even his servants and their families grew and found happiness, serving the man God has obviously chosen to bless.

I was hand-picked by Abraham’s wife, Sarah to be her personal attendant.  I was with her constantly, attending to her needs, even anticipating her requests before she spoke. I was proud to serve her well, and had found a good life for myself under their tents.

Being that close to Sarah, I also saw how she was when the servants and their little ones gathered together for a meal, or a celebration over the goodness of Abraham’s God.  Sarah would watch the mothers with their children and I could see the longing in her eyes.  Her arms were empty.  Sarah was barren.  I had grown quite fond of my mistress, and I felt her pain.

Then one day Sarah gave me a task I would never have expected in a thousand years!

“Hagar”, she whispered.  “I want you to go to Abraham’s tent tonight.”

I looked at her is disbelief.  She and Abraham were soulmates in every sense of the word.  They frequently touched each other on the shoulder or face as they passed in the course of everyday chores.  I used to joke with the other servant girls that my master and his wife couldn’t keep their hands off each other, even in their later years, Abraham pushing 100, and Sarah not far behind.

Sarah graciously allowed me several minutes to process her request.  Then she spoke again.  “You, Hagar, will bear a son for me, through my husband.”

Now it was certainly my desire to be married and have children of my own, but I was still so young.  Having a baby, and not having a husband – that was not what I had hoped for in life.  And Sarah meant that this baby would not be mine.  No, I would bear the child, but he or she would belong to Sarah.

I had seen other servants raising up children for their masters, but I never thought that would happen in this household.  If Abraham’s God was as wonderful and powerful as Abraham made him out to be, then why couldn’t he just open Sarah’s womb and let her birth her own child!

In the end I realized I had no choice in the matter.  I was the servant, not a master of my own life, and I had to do my mistress’ bidding.

Not long afterwards I began to experience the nausea of early pregnancy and realized I was carrying Abraham’s child.  Here I was, weak and nauseous, yet still expected to serve Sarah as before.

She should have appreciated me and the sacrifice I was making to lay with her husband and conceive his child.  I deserved some honor for sure – I was the mother of the only blood heir of my master.  My fondness for Sarah was gone, and I no longer took pleasure in serving her.  For the most part I still did what I was asked to do, all the while despising Sarah in my heart.

And she knew it, too.  I overheard her complaining to her husband one evening.  “It’s your fault, Abraham!” she moaned.  “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!”

Instead of standing up for me – after all, I was the one who was truly suffering – Abraham gave Sarah free reign to discipline me as she saw fit.

She’s treating me as if I have done something wrong, when this is all her doing!  But here I am with my face stinging from her slap!

So tonight, after Sarah and Abraham had retired to their bed, I decided to run away into the desert.

I shivered in the coolness of the desert night as I ran from my troubles.  Finally the sun began to creep over the sand dunes and it was day break.  Still I hurried on, trying to put as much distance as possible between me and my wretched mistress.

When the sun was high in the sky – it must have been near mid-day – I found a spring and refreshed myself in the cool water.  I drank and washed my face, and then lay down, exhausted. 

I wept as I realized that I was a helpless young girl, alone and pregnant in the desert, not knowing where I was going, no plan, no food, no one to take care of me.  What would I do?  Where could I go?  And how could I ever provide for myself and the young life I was carrying?

Then, as I lay, curled up by the spring, I heard my name like a whisper in the wind.

“Hagar!”

No, I must be dreaming, lightheaded from this lack of food and stifling heat.  But I heard the voice again, this time louder.

“Hagar!”

I lifted my tear stained face and looked toward the voice.  There was a man, standing just a few yards away, dressed all in white.

But a minute ago as I stumbled to the spring, there had not been anyone there!  How did this man sneak up on me like that?  Does he mean to hurt me? And, oh my word, how does he know my name?

I shivered in fear and hunched over as if to hide myself from his gaze.

“Hagar, servant of Sarah, where have you come from and where are you going?”

I raised my head as the man in white came nearer and nearer until he was standing over me.

He spoke again, so gently that I found myself seeking his eyes. He was an older man, with the kindest eyes I’d ever seen.  I found myself drawn to him.  I began to weep as I told him my story – why I was running away, how I had been mistreated.

“So, sir,” I said after my story had been told, and my sobbing has subsided. “What should I do?  I can’t survive here in the desert, especially because of the child I am carrying!  Please, tell me what to do!”

“Little One,” he spoke with kindness, yet firmness.  “You are with child, and you will have a son.

You will name him Ishmael -‘God hears’, for the Lord himself has heard of your misery.  Your son, Ishmael will be a wild donkey of a man.”

I giggled to imagine the tiny life inside me growing enough to be a ‘wild donkey of a man’.

The man went on.  “Ishmael’s hand will be against everyone, and everyone’s hand against him, and he will live in hostility toward all his brothers.”

So much to take in – these words about the life of the one growing inside me…But I clung to the joy of the thought that my son – my son – would live, and grow to be a man, albeit a donkey of man.  He would live!

As I stood before the man in white, looking into his fathomless eyes, I knew who he was.  I did not need to ask him his name.

“Hagar, go home and submit to Sarah.  I will increase your descendants so that they will be too numerous to count.”

I understood now why Abraham worshiped as he did.  He must have come face to face with this one that now stood before me.

So I gave this name to the Lord who spoke to me.  “You are the One who sees me!”

“I have now seen the One who sees me!”

He left me then, without another word. But I knew I could return to Sarah, even submit to her meanness as I awaited the birth of my son, the first of generations to come – from my womb.

And I knew that although I could not see him anymore, this man in white, I knew that his eyes were on me, and that was enough for me to go on.