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The promise has been hanging over this story since the end of chapter 11. In Genesis 12, God promised a couple who couldn't have children that they would have a child—a miraculous promise given their age and biological situation. This child would be the first of thousands, even millions, who would become a great nation and bless the world.
But ten years have passed since chapter 15, and still no baby. Both Abraham and Sarah are yearning for this promise to come true. Sarah takes initiative and decides not that she doesn't believe God's promise, but that she's going to do something to speed it up. She tells Abram, "The Lord has kept me from having children. Go, sleep with my slave. Perhaps I can build a family through her."
This would have been a recognized cultural norm—a typical arrangement for a family to have an heir through a slave. But by all Bible standards, even from Genesis chapter 1, the Bible has been clear: if you are to marry, it's one man and one woman for life till death do them part. There's no sex with anyone else. God has set this out from the very beginning, and much as it's culturally acceptable, Abram and Sarah are shockingly offside.
They want God to do what he said he's going to do, but they're going to force the issue because they think they know better. Look at Abraham: he just agrees with what Sarah says. He doesn't stand up and say, "Whoa, whoa, whoa, Sarah. I feel the same. I want this promise. I want to have a family. But that's not the way it's to work." Not a word. He absolutely bottles it. He has no guts whatsoever to stand for what's right in that relationship.
So Sarah took her Egyptian slave Hagar and gave her to her husband to be his wife. He slept with Hagar, and she conceived. Look at those words: Sarah took the slave, gave the slave to her husband. It's absolutely disgraceful. The woman is a possession. She's abused. It's wrong.
The careful reader of Genesis would see echoes of Genesis chapter 3. One of the pair sees something that looks amazing and gives her access to what she wants. She says to her husband, "Hey, fancy eating this?" And Adam does nothing because he's no leader. He just acquiesces immediately. There's an echo in chapter 16 of the default position of a human being: broken. "I will do what I think is right. God can stay in my pocket. When the crunch comes, I know better than him. And I'll run the show, thank you very much."
Abram has been chosen by God to be a forefather of anyone who meets Christ. What we're meant to see here is that he's fractured and broken, and so is she. And you're a great fool if you're a Christian and you think you're more than one second away from really screwing it up. So close all the time. Because it's our muscle memory, our default brokenness. Christ comes to save us. But boy, does he have to be patient.
When Hagar knew she was pregnant, she began to despise her mistress. She's been trampled down, and at last she has something that she feels is genuinely, objectively something to be proud of culturally. She's named his wife, and she has the child. The schemes work biologically, but the relationships collapse.
Sarah said to Abraham, "You're responsible for this. You did this." And of course he must have thought, "Well, hang on. You told me to do it. Don't you tell me I told you that you really wanted to do it." Sarah says, "I put my slave in your arms, and now that she's pregnant she despises me. May the Lord judge between you and me."
It's a shambles. It's an absolute mess. You make a decision to go your way. Yes, you believe in Jesus. Yes, you follow Jesus. Yes, you want to do what Jesus promises. You want to live in the light of his promises. But sometimes, perhaps often, your instinct is, "We'll do it my way, thank you very much. I'm in charge of this process. I'm going to get you there whatever happens." And it leads to an absolute mess.
Abraham said, "Your slave is in your hands. Do with her whatever you think best." Can you believe it? And Sarah mistreated Hagar, so she fled from her. Sarah and Abraham wanted to control the future, but they can't control what they created. It's all out of control. Abraham wanted the promised child—yes, he really did. But then as soon as it goes wrong, he washes his hands of it: "Your fault. Do what you like with her."
Hagar faces terrible suffering. Here's the thing: my failure to do God's thing in God's way, if I am a Christian, invariably spills out and hurts other people. At home, particularly at work, amongst my colleagues, friends, and neighbors. When I fail and do God's thing my way, all the best for those around me is lost. Time after time.
This is why at St. Andrew the Great we work through passages of the Bible sequentially, year after year, so that we can hear everything God has to say. So that we can't pick and choose what we like to hear. Christian faith waits for God to do what only God can do. But like so many, like me, Abram and Sarai won't wait. The result: powerless Hagar is now pregnant, abused, humiliated, running away into the wilderness, trying to run back home to Egypt where she comes from. She's facing death on the road.
And that's when we come to the second part of the story. What a turnaround. Watch this: even when God's covenant people make an absolutely disgraceful mess of somebody who's outside of that covenant and is powerless, God never stops looking for the broken.
The angel of the Lord found Hagar near a spring in the desert, beside the road to Shur—the Egyptian road. Hagar's running away, pregnant, alone, with no chance of surviving. She's in the desert with a baby in her stomach. And God comes looking for her.
I hope this is a relief to some of us this morning, and perhaps some more than others. Right now, at this very moment, right here, God looks for people who think that no one could be bothered to care for them. This is his way. His ways aren't our ways. His thoughts aren't our thoughts. They're so special.
He calls her by name: "Hagar, slave of Sarai, where have you come from? Where are you going?" And she says, "I'm running away from my mistress Sarai."
This woman has been treated as an object, as a slave, as a possession, effectively prostituted to have a baby. God says to her, "I know you." I know isn't intellectual. I know you. I know what they've done to you. I love you. I know it's impossible to believe it. I know you've been ruined. I know you're going to die here, but I am here. It's just magnificent in a shockingly broken world. And before he even begins to say a word to her about what she's to do, he wants her to know that she's seen by him.
The angel says, "Go back to your mistress and submit to her." I must put a parenthesis in here. We must be really careful. Our assumption is that she's going to die on this desert road, she and her baby, after being abused. It's really important in understanding the Bible that just because there's narrative doesn't mean it's an imperative, it's doctrine. The Bible writes about all sorts of things. It doesn't mean that's what we should do.
Here's a narrative where this woman goes back to where she's been abused. It's really important to say this morning that if you're in a position where you'd say, "Actually, I relate profoundly to her. Nobody knows, but I'm in an abusive position. I'm being abused," this is not a command to go back into it. It's actually the antithesis. We must call it out. We must get away. So, as a man, particularly, please hear me saying that this is a narrative, not a doctrine.
The situation here is this woman is going to die on the road. Watch how God makes sure he affirms 100% in this very particular situation that he will protect her. In this space, in this time, in this circumstance, he has her back. It's not a generic principle, but for her, look closely what he says:
"I will increase your descendants so much that they will be too numerous to count. You are now pregnant and you will give birth to a son. You shall name him Ishmael, for the Lord has heard of your misery."
What he says to her is an echo of the promise to those who have abused her. Now, listen. I know you. I know what they've done. I know how desperate it is. I know how lonely you are. I know how terrified you are. Let me be clear, Hagar. I'm coming with you. No one's killing you. No one's destroying your son. You will have a son, and he will have ancestors. I can see you. I've got you. I will never leave you. I've got you safe here. Trust me on this one.
It's specifically for her, or she would have died on the road. The tears will not be anymore. It's very specific in its context.
He says to her, "Ishmael means God hears." Every time for the rest of that boy's life, she would say his name and remember being on that road, abused, broken, beaten, destroyed. And the God of all creation said to her, "I hear you. I hear you. I really hear you."
What a broken world we live in, don't you think? And one day, whilst we will not escape this brokenness in this life, the promise that we must cling on to in all the destructive nature of our world is that one day he will bring justice and he will fix it, and all perpetrators will face their judgment. And God in his kindness will save those who let somebody else face the judgment for them—his own son.
It doesn't mean it's going to be easy for her. The son to be born will be in great enmity to the family that comes from the son that God promised, which is Isaac. Ishmael will be the stepbrother in this case, and there will be great trouble between Ishmael and Isaac in the family. God tells her what's coming. It's tough. It's really tough:
"He'll be a wild donkey of a man. His hand will be against everyone and everyone's hand against him. He will live in hostility towards all his brothers."
Oh, it's going to be difficult. But he reminds her once more: it won't be Godless. God has heard. God has seen. God will be with them.
And then this wonderful moment. Look at what she says. An Egyptian slave, an abused woman, the person everyone else forgot and didn't care about, becomes the first person in the Bible to give a name to God. The most destroyed person gets to give him a name. She says:
"You are the God who sees me. I have now seen the one who sees me."
Think about it. She's been seen by God. She's at a well, and the well is called Beer-lahai-roi, "the well of the living one who sees me." She says, "Oh God, how can you see me? How can you help me like this? I'm so sad. I'm so broken. No one cares about me. I'm totally alone, but you love me. And you're going to look after me. I can't believe how good you are."
And she cries out in tearful joy to him.
How did Jesus come in the New Testament? To seek and save the lost, the broken, the alienated, the hopeless. Those who know this of themselves. This is the God who came to die in perfection, unbroken, not a sinner, not an Abraham, not a Sarah, the perfect man who dies because those of us who break people need a substitute, or we will be judged—which means all of us. And those of us who are broken need a rescuer.
Perhaps somebody feels that very much this morning. You feel unseen. You carry grief that no one knows about, disappointment that you can't speak of, exhaustion that you've become skilled at hiding. And you wonder whether anyone, even your best friend, could possibly understand what you're going through.
Genesis 16 says before you ever think to look to God, he's looking to you. He's with you. He's seen you. And he will not overlook your pain.
The chapter ends so abruptly. Have a look at verses 15 and 16:
So Hagar bore Abraham a son, and Abraham gave the name Ishmael to the son she had born. Abraham was 86 years old when Hagar bore him Ishmael.
No celebration, no trumpeting God's fulfillment of the boy, just a birth, a name, and Abraham's age. In a sense, the plan has worked, but in another it's not the son. Genesis deliberately leaves us waiting.
Human ingenuity can produce an Ishmael. Human activity can produce Ishmael. But only God can give an Isaac. God's promises are fulfilled only by God's power and God's time and according to God's word.
This story is talked about at length in the New Testament in Galatians 4. Paul explains what this story means. He writes:
"For it's written that Abraham had two sons, one by Hagar, the slave woman, and the other by the free woman. His son by the slave woman was born according to the flesh. They made it happen. They made her do it. But the son by the free woman was born as a result of divine promise."
Straightforwardly: Ishmael was born through human activity and choice, speeding up God's plan. Isaac through God's promise. One depends on what human beings do; the other entirely on God's grace and God's action. And that's the story of the Bible.
The promised son was eventually born—Isaac. Then Jacob, his child. Then brothers. Then they go into exile in Egypt. Then the next promise: "I'll get you out of Egypt. I'll take you to the promised land." Then they head for the land that God had given them. It's hard yards and so many people don't believe it. And then they get there and God says you need to be led here, and then they choose their own leaders. All the time the narrative is the same. God makes a promise; human beings decide how it's going to work out. They choose their own leaders. It's an absolute carnage. It's a car crash. And then the kings blow it and they make a mess of it. And then those kings destroy the nation that God promised, and they go into exile. And God says, "I'll bring you back from exile." That's his promise. And they don't believe he'll bring them back. And then he brings them back.
All the time, for the best part of 2,000 years, he's saying, "When I make a promise, believe me. Don't do it your way. Do not do it your way. Believe me. Trust me. You won't see what I'm going to do, but I'm telling you the outcome."
And he promised that the great Messiah would come, that God would come in human form. What was the promise? Jesus said it multiple times in the gospel: "I've come to die, but I will rise again."
And they couldn't believe the promise. Idiots. Like you and me. Simple promise. Simple one thing. You got one job: believe it. No, I'll do it my way. I'll chop his ear. I'll fight the Romans who are going to kill him. And then he's alive. And then they don't know what to do. And then he says to all of them who betrayed him, "Meet you in Galilee, where we come from." It's reaching out to those of his people who had disgraced him. He always reaches out to us in our stupidity when we're his people. And at the same time, he yearns to care for the ones that we've hurt.
What a Savior. What a promise.
And there's only one promise left. There's only one to go. We can look back over 4,000 years. There's only one left. He's coming back. He'd beaten the grave. Christ is alive. The Spirit has come. His church is here. We meet all over the world this morning. There's one promise left: "I'll be back." And trust me on this promise.
Justice will be done. All of you in the world will be under my justice. It's a day of judgment. There'll be a judgment day. The only hope of escaping the judgment of the behavior of people like Abraham and Sarah and my stupid versions of it, in all my own brokenness and yours, is that the only one who never broke it—who never broke God's law—died. And it was God himself in Christ. And on that day, he'll say, "Hello. Welcome home, you saved sinner. No more sorrow. No more pain. No more morning. It's all over. It's all over. It's all over. Let's live."
But beware for those of us who say, "I'll do things my way. I won't trust Christ. I'm not going Christ's way." There is no hope. Because without that substitute, you can't be saved on that judgment day. But if you've let him in, if you've let him in, if you haven't let him in today, trust him today.
Genesis 16 teaches us something really profound about the Christian life. God saw Abraham, Sarah, and Hagar, and he sees us. God sees. God keeps, so we wait.
He saw Abraham and Sarah at their worst—at their absolute worst—but he didn't break the covenant with them. He saw Hagar and her suffering and made and kept his promise to her. There's still one great promise we're waiting for: the return of Christ. Until then, the normal Christian life is not super fulfillment where it all goes great. No, it's not. But it is faithfulness.
Jesus never promised that every longing we have in this world would be fulfilled. In fact, he said, "Deny yourself, take up your cross, and follow me." Until Christ returns, a disciple walks the way of the cross.
God does not promise to spare us from suffering. He promises to keep us through it. God does not promise to spare us from suffering. You're a fool if you think that's a promise. It's not a promise. The promise is he'll be with us all the way through. That's the promise. That's what we have to hold on to when our lives fall apart. It's the only promise that can hold us.
So if we're waiting for healing, reconciliation from a broken relationship, someone to spend your life with, a child to become a Christian whom you love so much, God may give you what you yearn for in this life. He may, but he may not. And it's a false Christianity that says he'll give you everything you ask for. It's not true.
But he has promised that he will fulfill every earthly longing when Christ returns. Every one. No more sorrow, no more pain, something better. And until that day, his promise is he will never leave you. He will never forsake you. Nothing can separate you from his love. And one day he will return. Evil will be judged. Death destroyed. Every tear wiped away. And every promise of God will stand complete.
So, friends, if I may say that, don't mistake God's delay for God's absence today. Don't do it. It's our default mode. And don't take God's place, trying to achieve by your own wisdom what only he can accomplish. Instead, wait for him. Wait because the God who saw the sin of Abraham and Sarah and the suffering of Hagar sees you.
Wait because the God who kept his promise to Abraham keeps his promise in Jesus Christ. And wait because the God who has never failed to keep a promise, the God who has never failed to keep a promise, will not fail his promise to you. That he will stick with you. He will wait for you in all circumstances, even as our hearts rupture with pain. And he will not fail.
His promises don't need our shortcuts because they rest on his faithfulness, not yours.
The promise has been hanging over this story since the end of chapter 11. In Genesis 12, God promised a couple who couldn't have children that they would have a child—a miraculous promise given their age and biological situation. This child would be the first of thousands, even millions, who would become a great nation and bless the world.
But ten years have passed since chapter 15, and still no baby. Both Abraham and Sarah are yearning for this promise to come true. Sarah takes initiative and decides not that she doesn't believe God's promise, but that she's going to do something to speed it up. She tells Abram, "The Lord has kept me from having children. Go, sleep with my slave. Perhaps I can build a family through her."
This would have been a recognized cultural norm—a typical arrangement for a family to have an heir through a slave. But by all Bible standards, even from Genesis chapter 1, the Bible has been clear: if you are to marry, it's one man and one woman for life till death do them part. There's no sex with anyone else. God has set this out from the very beginning, and much as it's culturally acceptable, Abram and Sarah are shockingly offside.
They want God to do what he said he's going to do, but they're going to force the issue because they think they know better. Look at Abraham: he just agrees with what Sarah says. He doesn't stand up and say, "Whoa, whoa, whoa, Sarah. I feel the same. I want this promise. I want to have a family. But that's not the way it's to work." Not a word. He absolutely bottles it. He has no guts whatsoever to stand for what's right in that relationship.
So Sarah took her Egyptian slave Hagar and gave her to her husband to be his wife. He slept with Hagar, and she conceived. Look at those words: Sarah took the slave, gave the slave to her husband. It's absolutely disgraceful. The woman is a possession. She's abused. It's wrong.
The careful reader of Genesis would see echoes of Genesis chapter 3. One of the pair sees something that looks amazing and gives her access to what she wants. She says to her husband, "Hey, fancy eating this?" And Adam does nothing because he's no leader. He just acquiesces immediately. There's an echo in chapter 16 of the default position of a human being: broken. "I will do what I think is right. God can stay in my pocket. When the crunch comes, I know better than him. And I'll run the show, thank you very much."
Abram has been chosen by God to be a forefather of anyone who meets Christ. What we're meant to see here is that he's fractured and broken, and so is she. And you're a great fool if you're a Christian and you think you're more than one second away from really screwing it up. So close all the time. Because it's our muscle memory, our default brokenness. Christ comes to save us. But boy, does he have to be patient.
When Hagar knew she was pregnant, she began to despise her mistress. She's been trampled down, and at last she has something that she feels is genuinely, objectively something to be proud of culturally. She's named his wife, and she has the child. The schemes work biologically, but the relationships collapse.
Sarah said to Abraham, "You're responsible for this. You did this." And of course he must have thought, "Well, hang on. You told me to do it. Don't you tell me I told you that you really wanted to do it." Sarah says, "I put my slave in your arms, and now that she's pregnant she despises me. May the Lord judge between you and me."
It's a shambles. It's an absolute mess. You make a decision to go your way. Yes, you believe in Jesus. Yes, you follow Jesus. Yes, you want to do what Jesus promises. You want to live in the light of his promises. But sometimes, perhaps often, your instinct is, "We'll do it my way, thank you very much. I'm in charge of this process. I'm going to get you there whatever happens." And it leads to an absolute mess.
Abraham said, "Your slave is in your hands. Do with her whatever you think best." Can you believe it? And Sarah mistreated Hagar, so she fled from her. Sarah and Abraham wanted to control the future, but they can't control what they created. It's all out of control. Abraham wanted the promised child—yes, he really did. But then as soon as it goes wrong, he washes his hands of it: "Your fault. Do what you like with her."
Hagar faces terrible suffering. Here's the thing: my failure to do God's thing in God's way, if I am a Christian, invariably spills out and hurts other people. At home, particularly at work, amongst my colleagues, friends, and neighbors. When I fail and do God's thing my way, all the best for those around me is lost. Time after time.
This is why at St. Andrew the Great we work through passages of the Bible sequentially, year after year, so that we can hear everything God has to say. So that we can't pick and choose what we like to hear. Christian faith waits for God to do what only God can do. But like so many, like me, Abram and Sarai won't wait. The result: powerless Hagar is now pregnant, abused, humiliated, running away into the wilderness, trying to run back home to Egypt where she comes from. She's facing death on the road.
And that's when we come to the second part of the story. What a turnaround. Watch this: even when God's covenant people make an absolutely disgraceful mess of somebody who's outside of that covenant and is powerless, God never stops looking for the broken.
The angel of the Lord found Hagar near a spring in the desert, beside the road to Shur—the Egyptian road. Hagar's running away, pregnant, alone, with no chance of surviving. She's in the desert with a baby in her stomach. And God comes looking for her.
I hope this is a relief to some of us this morning, and perhaps some more than others. Right now, at this very moment, right here, God looks for people who think that no one could be bothered to care for them. This is his way. His ways aren't our ways. His thoughts aren't our thoughts. They're so special.
He calls her by name: "Hagar, slave of Sarai, where have you come from? Where are you going?" And she says, "I'm running away from my mistress Sarai."
This woman has been treated as an object, as a slave, as a possession, effectively prostituted to have a baby. God says to her, "I know you." I know isn't intellectual. I know you. I know what they've done to you. I love you. I know it's impossible to believe it. I know you've been ruined. I know you're going to die here, but I am here. It's just magnificent in a shockingly broken world. And before he even begins to say a word to her about what she's to do, he wants her to know that she's seen by him.
The angel says, "Go back to your mistress and submit to her." I must put a parenthesis in here. We must be really careful. Our assumption is that she's going to die on this desert road, she and her baby, after being abused. It's really important in understanding the Bible that just because there's narrative doesn't mean it's an imperative, it's doctrine. The Bible writes about all sorts of things. It doesn't mean that's what we should do.
Here's a narrative where this woman goes back to where she's been abused. It's really important to say this morning that if you're in a position where you'd say, "Actually, I relate profoundly to her. Nobody knows, but I'm in an abusive position. I'm being abused," this is not a command to go back into it. It's actually the antithesis. We must call it out. We must get away. So, as a man, particularly, please hear me saying that this is a narrative, not a doctrine.
The situation here is this woman is going to die on the road. Watch how God makes sure he affirms 100% in this very particular situation that he will protect her. In this space, in this time, in this circumstance, he has her back. It's not a generic principle, but for her, look closely what he says:
"I will increase your descendants so much that they will be too numerous to count. You are now pregnant and you will give birth to a son. You shall name him Ishmael, for the Lord has heard of your misery."
What he says to her is an echo of the promise to those who have abused her. Now, listen. I know you. I know what they've done. I know how desperate it is. I know how lonely you are. I know how terrified you are. Let me be clear, Hagar. I'm coming with you. No one's killing you. No one's destroying your son. You will have a son, and he will have ancestors. I can see you. I've got you. I will never leave you. I've got you safe here. Trust me on this one.
It's specifically for her, or she would have died on the road. The tears will not be anymore. It's very specific in its context.
He says to her, "Ishmael means God hears." Every time for the rest of that boy's life, she would say his name and remember being on that road, abused, broken, beaten, destroyed. And the God of all creation said to her, "I hear you. I hear you. I really hear you."
What a broken world we live in, don't you think? And one day, whilst we will not escape this brokenness in this life, the promise that we must cling on to in all the destructive nature of our world is that one day he will bring justice and he will fix it, and all perpetrators will face their judgment. And God in his kindness will save those who let somebody else face the judgment for them—his own son.
It doesn't mean it's going to be easy for her. The son to be born will be in great enmity to the family that comes from the son that God promised, which is Isaac. Ishmael will be the stepbrother in this case, and there will be great trouble between Ishmael and Isaac in the family. God tells her what's coming. It's tough. It's really tough:
"He'll be a wild donkey of a man. His hand will be against everyone and everyone's hand against him. He will live in hostility towards all his brothers."
Oh, it's going to be difficult. But he reminds her once more: it won't be Godless. God has heard. God has seen. God will be with them.
And then this wonderful moment. Look at what she says. An Egyptian slave, an abused woman, the person everyone else forgot and didn't care about, becomes the first person in the Bible to give a name to God. The most destroyed person gets to give him a name. She says:
"You are the God who sees me. I have now seen the one who sees me."
Think about it. She's been seen by God. She's at a well, and the well is called Beer-lahai-roi, "the well of the living one who sees me." She says, "Oh God, how can you see me? How can you help me like this? I'm so sad. I'm so broken. No one cares about me. I'm totally alone, but you love me. And you're going to look after me. I can't believe how good you are."
And she cries out in tearful joy to him.
How did Jesus come in the New Testament? To seek and save the lost, the broken, the alienated, the hopeless. Those who know this of themselves. This is the God who came to die in perfection, unbroken, not a sinner, not an Abraham, not a Sarah, the perfect man who dies because those of us who break people need a substitute, or we will be judged—which means all of us. And those of us who are broken need a rescuer.
Perhaps somebody feels that very much this morning. You feel unseen. You carry grief that no one knows about, disappointment that you can't speak of, exhaustion that you've become skilled at hiding. And you wonder whether anyone, even your best friend, could possibly understand what you're going through.
Genesis 16 says before you ever think to look to God, he's looking to you. He's with you. He's seen you. And he will not overlook your pain.
The chapter ends so abruptly. Have a look at verses 15 and 16:
So Hagar bore Abraham a son, and Abraham gave the name Ishmael to the son she had born. Abraham was 86 years old when Hagar bore him Ishmael.
No celebration, no trumpeting God's fulfillment of the boy, just a birth, a name, and Abraham's age. In a sense, the plan has worked, but in another it's not the son. Genesis deliberately leaves us waiting.
Human ingenuity can produce an Ishmael. Human activity can produce Ishmael. But only God can give an Isaac. God's promises are fulfilled only by God's power and God's time and according to God's word.
This story is talked about at length in the New Testament in Galatians 4. Paul explains what this story means. He writes:
"For it's written that Abraham had two sons, one by Hagar, the slave woman, and the other by the free woman. His son by the slave woman was born according to the flesh. They made it happen. They made her do it. But the son by the free woman was born as a result of divine promise."
Straightforwardly: Ishmael was born through human activity and choice, speeding up God's plan. Isaac through God's promise. One depends on what human beings do; the other entirely on God's grace and God's action. And that's the story of the Bible.
The promised son was eventually born—Isaac. Then Jacob, his child. Then brothers. Then they go into exile in Egypt. Then the next promise: "I'll get you out of Egypt. I'll take you to the promised land." Then they head for the land that God had given them. It's hard yards and so many people don't believe it. And then they get there and God says you need to be led here, and then they choose their own leaders. All the time the narrative is the same. God makes a promise; human beings decide how it's going to work out. They choose their own leaders. It's an absolute carnage. It's a car crash. And then the kings blow it and they make a mess of it. And then those kings destroy the nation that God promised, and they go into exile. And God says, "I'll bring you back from exile." That's his promise. And they don't believe he'll bring them back. And then he brings them back.
All the time, for the best part of 2,000 years, he's saying, "When I make a promise, believe me. Don't do it your way. Do not do it your way. Believe me. Trust me. You won't see what I'm going to do, but I'm telling you the outcome."
And he promised that the great Messiah would come, that God would come in human form. What was the promise? Jesus said it multiple times in the gospel: "I've come to die, but I will rise again."
And they couldn't believe the promise. Idiots. Like you and me. Simple promise. Simple one thing. You got one job: believe it. No, I'll do it my way. I'll chop his ear. I'll fight the Romans who are going to kill him. And then he's alive. And then they don't know what to do. And then he says to all of them who betrayed him, "Meet you in Galilee, where we come from." It's reaching out to those of his people who had disgraced him. He always reaches out to us in our stupidity when we're his people. And at the same time, he yearns to care for the ones that we've hurt.
What a Savior. What a promise.
And there's only one promise left. There's only one to go. We can look back over 4,000 years. There's only one left. He's coming back. He'd beaten the grave. Christ is alive. The Spirit has come. His church is here. We meet all over the world this morning. There's one promise left: "I'll be back." And trust me on this promise.
Justice will be done. All of you in the world will be under my justice. It's a day of judgment. There'll be a judgment day. The only hope of escaping the judgment of the behavior of people like Abraham and Sarah and my stupid versions of it, in all my own brokenness and yours, is that the only one who never broke it—who never broke God's law—died. And it was God himself in Christ. And on that day, he'll say, "Hello. Welcome home, you saved sinner. No more sorrow. No more pain. No more morning. It's all over. It's all over. It's all over. Let's live."
But beware for those of us who say, "I'll do things my way. I won't trust Christ. I'm not going Christ's way." There is no hope. Because without that substitute, you can't be saved on that judgment day. But if you've let him in, if you've let him in, if you haven't let him in today, trust him today.
Genesis 16 teaches us something really profound about the Christian life. God saw Abraham, Sarah, and Hagar, and he sees us. God sees. God keeps, so we wait.
He saw Abraham and Sarah at their worst—at their absolute worst—but he didn't break the covenant with them. He saw Hagar and her suffering and made and kept his promise to her. There's still one great promise we're waiting for: the return of Christ. Until then, the normal Christian life is not super fulfillment where it all goes great. No, it's not. But it is faithfulness.
Jesus never promised that every longing we have in this world would be fulfilled. In fact, he said, "Deny yourself, take up your cross, and follow me." Until Christ returns, a disciple walks the way of the cross.
God does not promise to spare us from suffering. He promises to keep us through it. God does not promise to spare us from suffering. You're a fool if you think that's a promise. It's not a promise. The promise is he'll be with us all the way through. That's the promise. That's what we have to hold on to when our lives fall apart. It's the only promise that can hold us.
So if we're waiting for healing, reconciliation from a broken relationship, someone to spend your life with, a child to become a Christian whom you love so much, God may give you what you yearn for in this life. He may, but he may not. And it's a false Christianity that says he'll give you everything you ask for. It's not true.
But he has promised that he will fulfill every earthly longing when Christ returns. Every one. No more sorrow, no more pain, something better. And until that day, his promise is he will never leave you. He will never forsake you. Nothing can separate you from his love. And one day he will return. Evil will be judged. Death destroyed. Every tear wiped away. And every promise of God will stand complete.
So, friends, if I may say that, don't mistake God's delay for God's absence today. Don't do it. It's our default mode. And don't take God's place, trying to achieve by your own wisdom what only he can accomplish. Instead, wait for him. Wait because the God who saw the sin of Abraham and Sarah and the suffering of Hagar sees you.
Wait because the God who kept his promise to Abraham keeps his promise in Jesus Christ. And wait because the God who has never failed to keep a promise, the God who has never failed to keep a promise, will not fail his promise to you. That he will stick with you. He will wait for you in all circumstances, even as our hearts rupture with pain. And he will not fail.
His promises don't need our shortcuts because they rest on his faithfulness, not yours.
