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.
