COURAGEOUS FAITH
On February 11, 2025, I had the privilege of preaching in Broyhill Chapel on the campus of Mars Hill University. Here is my sermon.
Last October, I attended a conference in Indianapolis sponsored by the Lilly Endowment. I was extremely excited about the special event planned for participants on the second night – dinner at the Children’s Museum of Indianapolis. Since the conference was held a few days before throngs of Swifties descended on the city to attend Taylor’s three sold-out concerts, the life-sized dinosaur models outside the museum sported gigantic, beaded friendship bracelets around their legs and necks.
After dinner, conference attendees were encouraged to tour several of the museum’s exhibitions. Most of us predictably began our exploration in the Dinosphere. I found it fascinating to watch adults unaccompanied by children playing as if they were children. By the end of the evening, though, play gave way to contemplation, as many of us lingered in an exhibit called “The Power of Children: Making a Difference.” This permanent museum installation features the stories of Anne Frank, Ruby Bridges, Ryan White, and Malala Yousafzai.
Visitors to this extraordinary exhibit are invited to step into four carefully re-created, historically accurate environments: the secret annex in Amsterdam where Anne and her family hid from the Nazis; the classroom in New Orleans where Ruby became the public face of desegregation; the bedroom in Indiana where Ryan attended class by phone on days when he was unable to go to school due to complications from AIDS; the home in the Swat Valley of Pakistan where Malala campaigned for the right for girls to receive an education.
The stories of these four courageous children were simultaneously gut-wrenching and inspiring. Why did these children have to suffer? Why was courage required so early in their lives? Their stories are powerful. Their stories are sacred.
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Throughout my childhood, I sang in my church’s age-graded choirs. The scrapbook my mother meticulously assembled to chronicle my early life includes multiple photographs of me in those choirs – two rows of cherubs clothed in bell-shaped white robes topped with oversized blue bows. I fondly recall the first musical I participated in as a second grader – “It’s Cool in the Furnace” - a production highlighting the courageous faith of four young men: Daniel, Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego. I could sing you the opening song, but I won’t.
During my formative years in church, Sunday School lessons focused on courage fell into two categories: people who challenged or disobeyed a king (Moses, Daniel, Shadrach, Meshach, Abednego, Esther) or people who demonstrated bravery on the battlefield (Joshua, David). In each case, the character who was portrayed as an icon of courage ended up being vindicated or lauded as victorious, while their oppressors faced dire consequences. I admit I had trouble identifying with any of those characters as a child, because I couldn’t imagine a scenario where I would need to confront a giant while wielding a slingshot or survive a night in a lion’s den.
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My understanding of courage has expanded exponentially through the years, especially through my work in the recovery community. As a chaplain at an addiction treatment center for women in Nashville, day after day I heard stories of suffering from women who had been used and abused, marginalized and vilified. But an undercurrent of courage flowed through their stories. While the circumstances of their lives were undeniably heart-wrenching, their resilience inspired me. By simply walking through our doors, they were demonstrating courage. Admitting your need for help requires courage.
Not surprisingly, Hagar’s story resonated with my clients. When we meet her at the beginning of Genesis 16, Hagar is referenced simply as Sarai’s Egyptian slave. Based on a previous narrative, we presume she was acquired by Abram and Sarai during their sojourn in Egypt, where they took refuge during a famine. While they were there, Abram vastly increased his wealth, amassing sheep and oxen, donkeys and camels, male and female slaves.
How old was Hagar when she was transferred to Abram’s possession? How did she end up serving as Sarai’s slave? What was her life like in Egypt before slavery? We don’t know the answers to any of those questions. We only know that this woman, a foreign slave, became a pawn in Sarai’s plan to ensure her husband Abram would have an heir.
Over a decade earlier, God made Abram a sweeping promise: “I will make you into a great nation, and I will bless you; I will make your name great, and you will be a blessing. I will bless those who bless you, and whoever curses you I will curse; and all peoples on earth will be blessed through you.”
As time passes and Abram grows weary of waiting, God reiterates this promise with lofty language: “Look up at the sky and count the stars - if indeed you can count them. So shall your offspring be.”
After more years pass without a positive pregnancy test, Sarai decides to take matters into her own hands. Tired of waiting for God to fulfill the promise of descendants, she concocts a plan that makes modern readers cringe. “Go, sleep with my slave,” she instructs her husband. “Perhaps I can build a family through her.”
Marriage contracts in the Ancient Near East allowed for such a scenario. Wives were expected to bear children for their husbands, and the woman was always blamed for infertility. If a wife failed to produce offspring within a decade, her husband was free to divorce her. But if a woman was unable to carry a child, she could still fulfill her marital obligation by supplying her husband with a concubine or slave who could bear a child – essentially forced surrogacy.
Hagar has absolutely no say in the matter. Thus, the 86-year-old master of the house impregnates her. The plan conceived by Sarai was indeed successful, but all was not well in Abram’s household. By virtue of her pregnancy, Hagar’s status in the household has risen slightly. Consequentially, friction escalates between the slave and her mistress.
Sarai begins to lash out, blaming Abram for the untenable situation. Abram deflects the blame. “Deal with her yourself!” he urges. A jealous and furious Sarai mistreats her pregnant slave. Used and abused, diminished and desperate, Hagar flees into the wilderness. Little does she know, she is about to find herself on holy ground, the recipient of the first annunciation recorded in Scripture.
We usually only hear the word “annunciation” used during the season of Advent, when we focus on the Angel Gabriel’s announcement to Mary. Both Mary and Hagar receive news via an angel heralding God’s plan for the birth of a child. After receiving Gabriel’s message, Mary declares, “I am the Lord’s servant” – a phrase that can also be translated, “I am the Lord’s slave.”
When the pregnant slave in our story stops by a spring in the desert, the angel of the Lord seeks her out: “Hagar, slave of Sarai, where have you come from and where are you going?” Notice: God’s messenger addresses Hagar by name. Thus far in the story, Abram and Sarai have never used her name, referring to her in conversation only as a slave.
Hagar knows how to answer the angel’s first question: I am running away from my mistress Sarai. She has no response to the second one. Where is she going?
Now we come to yet another point in the story that is cringe-worthy: the angel of God instructs this battered woman to return to the household where she has been abused: “Go back to your mistress and submit to her.” This is not what I want the angel to say. I want an elaborate escape plan for this runaway slave, complete with a pillar of cloud by day and pillar of fire by night leading Hagar to safety, far from Abram and Sarai’s tents. I don’t want her to endure another day of suffering, much less years of prolonged oppression.
Hagar would not have lasted long alone in the wilderness. In the Ancient Near East, a woman relied on the security found within the household of a man – her father, her husband, her brother, her master. In the short-term, Hagar’s future will be more secure if she returns to Abram’s household – an unsafe safety net.
The angel’s disconcerting directive is connected to a stunning promise from God: “I will increase your descendants so much that they will be too numerous to count.” God’s promise to Hagar directly echoes God’s promise to Abram – innumerable descendants. Hagar – entrenched at the bottom of her society’s hierarchy as a woman, a foreigner, a slave – will be the mother of a great nation.
After announcing God’s promise, the angel moves on to the gender reveal: Hagar will give birth to a son. Just as in God’s annunciation to Mary, Hagar learns not only the gender of her child but also his name: Ishmael, meaning “God hears.” To hear in this sense means far more than just being able to register sounds; this is deep listening paired with compassionate action. God has heard Hagar’s cries and listened to her laments. God will act on her behalf.
Finally, the angel adds an unsettling coda to the announcement: Ishmael will be a wild donkey of a man; his hand will be against everyone. This news would not be music to any mother’s ears. But I wonder if these words didn’t really register with Hagar, who must have been overcome with relief when she realized not only would she be able to carry her child to term, but her son would live to adulthood, eventually becoming a parent himself.
Hagar’s response to this unexpected annunciation is striking. She does something that no one else in Scripture does: She gives God a name. The Hebrew term is el-roi - “The God who sees me.” As she sits by the stream in the desert, she now knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that God sees her. Seen by God, she sees herself differently. Thus, Hagar is able to muster the courage to do the next hard thing: return to Sarai as her slave.
Reflecting on Hagar’s plight, Dr. Wil Gafney observes: “Hagar’s liberation was going to take more time. That is also one of the uncomfortable truths of this passage. One can stand in the presence of the Majesty of God, be fully seen and fully known and simultaneously be entrapped and entangled by the tentacles of evil extending from corrupt powers and institutions. Just ask the Africans enslaved in America crying out for 400 years just as the Israelites cried out during their enslavement for another 400 years.”[i]
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Hagar returns and resumes her subservient position in Abram’s household. I wonder how Sarai reacted when her runaway slave returned. In due time, Ishmael is born. We have to flip ahead five chapters in the book of Genesis to find another mention of Hagar. What happened during those intervening years remains a mystery.
Sarai – now renamed Sarah - has finally given birth to her own son, Isaac. At a celebration marking Isaac’s weaning, Sarah’s long-standing animosity toward her slave rears up again. When she perceives that Ishmael is mocking her precious little boy, she erupts in anger, demanding that her husband cast out the slave and her son. Although Abraham is distressed, he complies. The following morning, he gives Hagar a little food and water for her return journey into the wilderness and sends her off into the desert with his firstborn son.
Once again, Hagar finds herself disoriented in the desert, without a plan or adequate resources. Dehydration sets in. Hagar is certain her beloved son is about to die. Summoned by the boy’s cries, the angel of the Lord once again speaks to Hagar, reassuring her that God has heard her son and has seen her distress. The angel reminds Hagar of the divine promise: God will make Ishmael into a great nation.
Suddenly, God opens Hagar’s eyes; she sees a well of water. She gets a drink for her son, for herself. On that holy ground, God sustains the mother and son physically and spiritually with living water. Hagar has at last been liberated. She and Ishmael make a life for themselves in the desert. We are told “God was with the boy as he grew up.” He becomes an archer. His mother finds a wife for him from Egypt, her homeland. Ishmael becomes a father, a grandfather, a great-grandfather. Hagar becomes the mother of a great nation, just as God promised.
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Hagar’s sacred story is simultaneously gut-wrenching and inspiring, just like the stories of Anne, Ruby, Ryan and Malala. Hagar had the courage to endure suffering because of her lived experience with God – el-roi – the God who saw her. The angel’s annunciation left an indelible mark on her soul; that liminal space by the stream became a spiritual marker she could revisit whenever she needed to recall God’s faithfulness.
Often when we find ourselves in the wilderness, disoriented and fearful, unsure of what to do next, we tend to engage in a practice my friends in recovery refer to as future-tripping. In this state of mind, we spin stories about what might happen in the future, which may only serve to exacerbate our anxiety.
Perhaps we would fare better if we shifted our gaze away from the hazy horizon of the future and instead turned our attention to the past. As we review our own sacred stories, we can recall holy moments when God showed up in mysterious ways in our lives. We can identify spiritual markers on our faith journey with God – the times when we were sustained by God’s love and provision during a season suffering. What we learned about God’s character then can encourage us now.
Children of God, remember that the God who saw Hagar by the stream in the desert sees you – your suffering has not gone unnoticed. The God who heard Ishmael weeping in the wilderness hears your cries. Your memories of God’s unfailing love and compassion can empower you to take the next step into an uncertain future.
May God grant us wisdom and courage for the living of these days. Amen.
[i] (https://www.wilgafney.com/2020/11/29/jesus-and-hagar-the-form-of-a-slave/?fbclid=IwAR3LcrsWsUEijWc97AMKKVShdvCWz3E-vM5cETAmurVjbBAH1sNtdJoQQp4)
