Encouragement

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TALE OF TWO TALES



I’ve come to a conclusion; upon waking each morning, my foot can’t touch ground without setting down at a crossroad. A crossroad somehow inhabited by two of me readying to trod ancient sod.

Sarah’s and Hagar’s tale* remains a fascinating saga … a tale of two cities, each familiar. A fancy abode, bearing my address, you’ll discover in each. Neither really dwelt in; neither really vacated. I spend far too much time standing, at the crossroad.

Familiar stories carry a unique danger, a familiarity that finds me readily pointing fingers, that blinds the eye to my own presence within the tale. A life-and-death presence I’m here, now, to explore.

Sarai, Abram’s Sarai, knew how to follow. She pulled up stakes and followed her man, without hesitation, without complaint, into unfamiliar territory, totally at rest in his understanding. Or, did she?

Yes, she followed Abram to Egypt when sight blinded his eyes to the famine of his soul. Upon his bidding, Sarai demurely played the sister-role to Abram, while her wife-role bore her heart into danger’s chambers … and all the while God wrapped her in His grace.

But where is faith born? In another’s journey?

Grace rescued Sarai, rescued Abram. Faith’s steps rested more firmly in the sand as Abram re-traced his steps, leading his people, back … back to an altar of confession where he’d acknowledged God as God. And Grace met Abram there, with blessing more numerous than the stars in the night sky.

Yet today I note divergent roads.

Abram believed in God, and He counted it righteousness.

But where is Sarai? Even at this point, it isn't Sarai, that God speaks to. He speaks to Abram. He speaks to Hagar. But Sarai is yet to hear God's voice. Why is that?

I don't know ... I haven't answers, only questions.

Sarai had no children. She followed, there lay no other choice. Yet what did Sarai follow, standing here in Abram’s tent? Barreness' disgrace fell upon woman in ancient times, not men. So whose vision might really have been so sight-focused faith, despite showing signs of fruit in another, found no room to grow in personal sod?

Abram's love for Sarah runs all over Genesis 16. At least it seems so to me. He recognizes the desperation of Sarai’s pain, so despite the beating of his believed in God- heart, Abram now submits to her desire. Hagar's son would be Sarai's son.
Abram's love for his wife looks very much like Adam's love for Eve. He desired to please her, to give her hope, to demonstrate the depth of his caring for her.

And thus, a crossroad is birthed … submission’s crossroad!

A careful look at the familiar story of Genesis 16 reveals a thread weaving around each character, a thread colored submission, a thread stretching timelessly until it wraps its chord even around me.

Submission’s theme is born in nearly every verse, telling the same tale … until the end. A tragically familiar tale of crossroads, of submission living outside God's plan.

Sarah submits to her understanding. Abram submits to Sarai's desire ... twice. Hagar submits to Sarah's understanding, until it's repercussions become greater than her willingness to bear. Every single submission is to sight, to man's understanding. And above it all stands a patient, though I imagine grieving, God.

Then finally, finally, there is one whose running steps have trampled the sands of self beneath her feet. And when Hagar hears God's speak, the question of submission resolves itself. She submits to Him, even to the point of returning to the very thing causing her pain.

Why? Because she chose to trust a way she didn't understand. She chose from a newborn willingness to rest in a God who called her name.

I love it! I love it because it's about every moment of my every day. I can't avoid submission, not as long as I breathe. However, I can choose to Whom I will submit, despite all the sands of self my feet may want to travel.

Eventually Sarai and Abram get it, too. Faith is a process that never ceases. Submission is a call to rely on God … a call that never waivers. How blessed to be able to rest in the One Who Sees Me ... and will never lead me to anything less than His very best.






*Genesis 16





© 24 January 2006
DeAnna L. Brooks

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