Who Is This God?

I’ve asked that question many times. I’ve asked it out loud, when it was safe. Mostly, I’ve kept it to myself. No one hears me – they never have. Now, I’m sitting in the only shade within miles, drinking cool, life-giving water, looking back on the last twenty years of my life, wondering about the next twenty, and contemplating that question.

The desert surrounding me is as parched and scarce as my life. This place of rest, with cool shade and water, reminds me of the years of relief. I think about the people with whom I’ve shared life and those experiences. They had it all, but it was never enough. I had nothing, because I belonged to them. I was nothing – just a piece of meat. I wondered, many times, about the God they served.

Was he like them?

During my bondage, I was solution and problem. I was treated kindly and I was raped. Rape’s a good description of my life – serving others without any say.

Why wouldn’t their God help me?

My time with Mr. Abram and Ms. Sarai began in my homeland of Egypt. I was very young and my life was already set. I wasn’t special; I wasn’t even related to anyone special, and my prospects outside of service didn’t exist. I was serving in the palace when Ms. Sarai came to live there for a time. She was beautiful then (not so much now), and I served her during her stay. I’m told she was in the palace because Mr. Abram had deceived my king, saying Ms. Sarai was his sister, or something like that. Plagues fell on my people, and the king confronted Mr. Abram about the deception, and sent them away with gifts of herds, gold, silver, and servants. These two foreigners had come to Egypt because of famine in their land, and were returning with an abundance of property. That included me – Ms. Sarai took me along to serve her.

They spoke of a God who promised them blessings, and it seemed they were being blessed. For ten years, I served Ms. Sarai, and ate the crumbs that fell from their table. I guess I was also blessed. What could go wrong?

One day, Ms. Sarai told me about the promised blessing Mr. Abram was to receive, and that it included the blessing of children. Mr. Abram and Ms. Sarai didn’t have any children, because Ms. Sarai couldn’t conceive. Never could, and now she was too old. So, Ms. Sarai told me that she wanted to use me to fix the problem. She said she had discussed this with Mr. Abram, and told me if she couldn’t give her husband a child, she could give him someone who could, because the promise was actually made to Mr. Abram, not to her. I didn’t want that old man touching me, but she insisted, and ordered me to Mr. Abram’s bed. Mr. Abram wasn’t too old. I got pregnant and Ms. Sarai got mean. She forced me. It was her idea. And when I became pregnant, she treated me worse than ever. There are no limits to giving or serving.

What kind of God blesses people who act like this?

After Sarai complained, Abram told her she could do with me as she pleased. What!?! They always had! I was carrying his child and I solved her problem, and with no remorse for what they’d already taken from me, they wanted more. Sarai had everything but a child – what would keep her from taking the child of her property? So, I left. A pregnant slave, bred like an animal at her request, wandering the desert. At the time, wandering seemed better than hanging around.

Wasn’t I worth more than a promise? How does their God allow this to happen?

Soon, their God found me, and suggested I go back and serve Sarai. I couldn’t! I was scared for me and for my child. Their God promised to bless me and the child, and told me to name the child Ishmael, because He had heard my affliction. He told me that my descendants would outnumber the stars. I’d heard that somewhere, but I went back, believing their God had heard me.

For fifteen horrible years, I served Sarai. One day, when she was 90 years old, and he was 100, Sarah became pregnant! Their God changed their names as a sign of the promised child.

Couldn’t a God that can open a dry womb, have opened it 15 years ago?

As promised, Sarah gave birth to Abraham’s son, and named him Isaac, because she had laughed at the idea of her pregnancy. We all did.

As Isaac got older, I saw how much Abraham and Sarah loved Isaac. My Ishmael, the first born, became an afterthought. On the day Isaac was weaned, there was a party. Sarah made it clear that my child was not going to be the heir, and she told Abraham to send me, and my child, away. It’s easy to dispose of property. I was given a skin of water and a few pieces of bread. How generous – but at least he came to say goodbye. He loved Ishmael. I know he did.

We walked, even after the food and water was gone. We were suffering, and dying – alone. I couldn’t bear to see Ishmael suffer, so I fixed him a comfortable place to die, and then I walked a distance away. We cried for help. Abraham’s God, who found me before, heard our cries. He strengthened me to get up, look up, and lift my son. He promised to bless Ishmael and make him into a great nation. I named him El Roi, The God Who Sees Me.

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Hagar, the outsider, an Egyptian slave girl, is the only person in Hebrew Scripture who gives God a name. Recording that fact is significant. Thinking about Hagar’s tragic story, what does it reveal to us about God?