Wounded by God's People (8 page)

Like me, and perhaps like you, Hagar had been focused on the speck of sawdust — Sarah's wrongdoing —while ignoring the plank of arrogance in her own life. So God's instructions to Hagar were clear, comforting, but corrective and firm: “Go back to your mistress and submit to her… . I will so increase your descendants that they will be too numerous to count.”
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In other words,
Hagar, the only way to resolve this entire mess is to refocus. You're missing the obvious. You're not responsible for “fixing” Sarah. She may never acknowledge that what she did to you was wrong. But you are responsible for your own words and behavior. You must turn around. Go back. Humble yourself. Face the consequences. If you do, Hagar, I will bless you, your son, your grandchildren, and your future generations immeasurably. I will give you an honored place in history. Because I not only care about your wound, Hagar, I care about you
.

Amazingly, Hagar did turn around. Not petulantly, reluctantly, or with hesitation, but with the joy of knowing that not just Abraham, but now
she herself—
an Egyptian slave — had a personal relationship with the living God, the Creator of the Universe! Her wounded heart was filled with the wonder of His grace and love and personal attention as she exclaimed, “You are the God who sees me
… I have now seen the One who sees me.”
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The blind spot was gone, and her vision was 20/20!

The Bible describes the turnaround as repentance. For me, like Hagar, it wasn't enough just to have a name for my blind spot. It wasn't enough to have had a fresh encounter with the One who sees me, inside and out. I had to turn around. While I did choose to repent, carrying through on that decision has been an ongoing effort as I work out the practical application. Because I'm still a perfectionist. But I have had to train myself to see the difference between excellence and control, giving those around me, including myself, the freedom to fail and fall short of my standards. I find myself continually tested on my willingness to let go of control while still lifting up the standard of excellence. They are tests that, by God's grace and power, I want to pass. One by one. Day by day. Until I overcome the sin that has been so blinding. But to pass those tests, I must be willing to turn around. To repent of my sin. To stop it.

What about you? Have you acknowledged your sin that you now see, but you have yet to turn around? Until you are willing to repent of your sin, you will never overcome it. And you will miss the blessing that God has for you. Repentance is vital if you and I are to successfully continue on our journey to healing.

Wounded people need to repent of their sin. And the wounders need to repent also. Sarah herself had suffered from a severe case of spiritual macular degeneration. One can only imagine the look on her face when Hagar returned. Consternation. Anger. Guilt. Misery. I wonder if the shock of seeing Hagar jolted Sarah's vision so that she also began to see more clearly. She had been the one who suggested to Abraham that he have a child by Hagar. Yet when Hagar became pregnant and arrogantly despised her barren mistress, Sarah
illogically, unreasonably, and blindly pointed an accusing finger at Abraham: “You are responsible for the wrong I am suffering.”
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Sarah blamed her husband for a situation she herself had arranged! It might seem ludicrous if it wasn't so much like what all of us do when we allow our wounds to blind us. That's the most striking characteristic of a blind spot — it can be easily seen by everyone … except ourselves.

Sarah must have thought she could easily get rid of her problem with just a sharp word and the slap of her hand. But when Hagar returned, Sarah no doubt had to do some serious soul-searching and heart-cleansing and sin-repenting of her own. For the next fifteen years or so, we don't hear anything about her or from her. She slips into the background of Abraham's life and appears to live quietly with the consequences of her choices. And this would not have been easy for her because, several months after her servant returned, “Hagar bore Abram a son.”
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Could it be that you, like Sarah, are also missing the obvious? Have you lashed out and wounded someone who wounded you? It may be something that seems much less than what the other person did to you. And maybe it actually is. But don't overlook it. Maybe that's why God has allowed the consequences to come back into your life.

If you and I really want the wounds within to heal, then we need to be brutally honest with ourselves. We need to stop focusing on
them
and ask God to open our eyes to our own faults. We need to have the courage to truly look at ourselves, as painful as it may be. Then
turn around
. Leave behind any pride … rebellion … rationalization … excuses … self-defense … and self-pity. Turning around is a courageous choice —it's hard to do! It can hurt to take the plank out of your own eye, confront the past, change your focus, die to your
pride, admit your wrong, deny your vengeance, face the person, risk another wound. And it takes courage to say you're sorry — sorry for your own planks and pride, shortcomings and sin, faults and failures — while leaving the other person to God. Yet, I can almost hear the applause in heaven as those who have gone before encourage and challenge you and me: “Repent, then, and turn to God, so that your sins may be wiped out, that times of refreshing may come from the Lord.”
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The time for refreshing has come, but you and I must be willing to open our eyes. Then turn around.
Turn around!

Now the L
ORD
was gracious to Sarah as he had said, and the L
ORD
did for Sarah what he had promised. Sarah became pregnant and bore a son to Abraham in his old age, at the very time God had promised him. Abraham gave the name Isaac to the son Sarah bore him. When his son Isaac was eight days old, Abraham circumcised him, as God commanded him. Abraham was a hundred years old when his son Isaac was born to him
.

Sarah said, “God has brought me laughter, and everyone who hears about this will laugh with me.” And she added, “Who would have said to Abraham that Sarah would nurse children? Yet I have borne him a son in his old age.”

The child grew and was weaned, and on the day Isaac was weaned Abraham held a great feast. But Sarah saw that the son whom Hagar the Egyptian had borne to Abraham was mocking, and she said to Abraham, “Get rid of that slave woman and her son, for that slave woman's son will never share in the inheritance with my son Isaac.”

The matter distressed Abraham greatly because it concerned his son. But God said to him, “Do not be so distressed about the boy and your maidservant. Listen to whatever Sarah tells you, because it is through Isaac that your offspring will be reckoned. I will make the son of the maidservant into a nation also, because he is your offspring.”

Early the next morning Abraham took some food and a skin of water and gave them to Hagar. He set them on her shoulders and then sent her off with the boy
.

Genesis 21:1–14

A
s I was driving down the road one day recently, I noticed a gardener pruning a tree. I knew that the type of tree he was pruning required cutting out old branches to make room for the new growth. The beautiful summer flowers the tree is known for will not blossom on old limbs. Then God seemed to whisper in my ear, gently reminding me of the Heavenly Gardener who lovingly prunes the branches attached to the Vine.

Fruit on a vine is only borne in abundance on tender, new growth. As the wood of a branch gets older, it tends to harden. So even though a branch may be alive and connected to the vine, it can still fail to produce fruit. While leaving the branch connected to the vine, a gardener cuts back the old, hard wood, forcing the vine into new growth that will produce fruit instead of just leaves. In fact, there are times when a gardener cuts back the branch so drastically that all that is left is the nub where it is connected to the vine. As I drove by the gardener pruning the tree, it occurred to me that his pruning could be described as
wounding
.

Later, I went back and reread the illustration of a vine that Jesus used to describe our relationship to Him: “I am the true vine, and my Father is the gardener. He cuts off every branch in me that bears no fruit, while every branch that does bear fruit he prunes so that it will be even more fruitful.”
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He was describing the intentional wounding that results from God's pruning in a believer's life.

Does it hurt the Gardener to cut back the branch so far? I believe
it does. But the writer to the Hebrews offers a key insight when he states, “No discipline [wounding or pruning] seems pleasant at the time, but painful. Later on, however, it produces a harvest of righteousness and peace for those who have been trained by it.”
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My guess is that the hurting heart of the Divine Wounder must surely be soothed when the result is abundant blessing and fruit.

Abraham was a wounder. When God initially called him to leave Ur of the Chaldeans, he obediently left everything behind in order to pursue God. In the beginning, one of his primary reasons for living a life of faith was God's promise of a son and descendants more numerous than stars in the sky.
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Abraham may have been intrigued at the prospect of millions upon millions of descendants, but all he really wanted was one son to call his own. One baby he could hold. One boy he could talk to and teach, play with and enjoy, give things to and love. One son to whom he could leave everything. Just one descendant would be enough.

Hagar gave Abraham one descendant. His name was Ishmael. For fourteen years he was Abraham's only son. It doesn't require much imagination to know that Abraham, a very wealthy man whose holdings rivaled that of a small nation, lavished everything on Ishmael. He must have spent hours talking to Ishmael, playing with him, teaching him about managing a large household, and instructing him in sound business practices. Abraham loved Ishmael! And because God was central to his life, Abraham surely told Ishmael about the One who had leaned out of heaven to speak into his life when he had been living in Ur of the Chaldeans. The One who had promised to bless him and make him a channel of blessing to the world. The One who had called Abraham to a life of obedient faith; the One who had appeared to him again and again when he built his
altars; the One who had spoken to him, comforted him, and delivered him from danger. I expect that Abraham confided to Ishmael that he, his firstborn, was the fulfillment of God's promise to bless him with descendants as numerous as the stars. Abraham surely grew increasingly attached to the boy as he wrapped years of longing around Hagar's son.

For fourteen years, Ishmael lived as a virtual prince, the beloved only son of a wealthy, powerful, well-known, and well-respected man. Rather than being humbly grateful for his privileges, however, Ishmael seemed to have inherited his mother's arrogance. It may not have been readily apparent when he was young and unchallenged in his position, but it became blazingly obvious when Sarah miraculously conceived and gave birth to her own son — at the age of ninety! Ishmael's world was rocked. No longer the sole focus of his father's attention and love, Ishmael nursed his wounds and patiently bided his time. Then he hit back. Hard.

On the day Sarah and Abraham's miracle son, Isaac, was weaned, Abraham threw a great feast to celebrate. Ishmael chose that moment to take revenge on the little boy who had dared to upset his world. While we don't know the exact form of the attack, we know it was brutal and likely focused on God's unique plan for Isaac's life, because the New Testament describes it as “persecution.”
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One can only imagine the damage Ishmael's bullying would have done to his younger sibling had it remained a dirty little secret. It no doubt would have developed into a pattern of abusive behavior, perhaps even becoming life-threatening to Isaac. And it certainly would have been emotionally, spiritually, and psychologically damaging to the development of a little guy who was destined for a unique role in God's great plan of redemption.

But the persecution did not remain a secret for long, because Sarah caught Ishmael persecuting her boy. For years she had lived in silent acquiescence, patiently enduring the daily presence of Hagar and Ishmael. Now she broke her silence with the mother-of-all temper tantrums. Erupting in an explosion of pent-up rage, she let loose, wrapping her fury in righteous indignation and a mother's protective instincts for her child. In a tone that surely allowed no room for disagreement, she demanded that Abraham throw both Hagar and Ishmael out of the house: “Get rid of that slave woman and her son, for that slave woman's son will never share in the inheritance with my son Isaac.”
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The issue was laid out in harsh reality under the glaring spotlight of truth — because Hagars son, Ishmael, was not the son God had promised to give Abraham. He was not heir to the promised spiritual birthright, which was Abraham's most valuable treasure.

Ishmael had been born as a result of Abraham's self-effort and in accordance with Abraham's self-will. When Abraham had grown impatient waiting for God to fulfill His promise of a son, Abraham had taken matters into his own hands. At eighty-five, Abraham had known he was running out of time to have children and perhaps thought God had forgotten His promise. So Abraham had run ahead of God. He had ignored God's principles for marriage,
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in essence committed adultery, impregnated his servant, then hoped that God would retroactively bless everything. Even before Sarah had pronounced judgment, Abraham must have known deep in his heart that one day the rubber would finally hit the road. Now he could no longer keep hoping or pretending that everything was all right. It was impossible for both boys to have the same inheritance. They couldn't even live peaceably in the same home. The axe must finally fall. It was time for the Gardener's shears.

Wounds have a way of festering, don't they? Hagar, Sarah, Abraham, and now Ishmael and Isaac were all wounded. And wounds don't really self-heal. They seem to lie dormant, and then at an unsuspected moment, in an unexpected way, they erupt.

What wounds have been festering in your heart and life? Perhaps they've been lying dormant but now are beginning to surface, and you realize you are still hurting.

Sometimes our wounds, like Abraham's, are self-inflicted. They are the result of choices we have made according to our own self-effort and self-will. According to what we want. According to what we were convinced we had to have to be happy and fulfilled.

If we are honest, I expect all of us would admit to running full speed ahead at some point in our lives, praying for God to bless whatever it was that we were doing — or bless that relationship or bless that decision — all the while pretending, even to ourselves, that everything was okay and that God would let us get by with it. But deep down we know better. We have an uneasy feeling that this isn't right. Our conscience is warning us that we have run ahead of God and seized something for ourselves that we wanted. Maybe even something we believed God wanted to give us. We have felt we just couldn't wait one more day for God to keep His promise, whatever it was. With time seemingly running out, we may have jumped into a marriage, a career, a ministry, a pregnancy, an adoption, a business contract, or a second job.

So instead of waiting on God's time and for Him to give it to us in His way, we get it for ourselves. As a result, whatever we jumped into never works out like we had hoped. Actually, we can make a royal mess, as Abraham did.

If Abraham had been suppressing an uneasy feeling deep down in
his spirit, it now erupted violently to the surface. His face must have turned white, then a deep red as he faced up to the fact that Sarah was right. This contrived arrangement was a mistake and not at all what God wanted. The shards of his shattered heart are evident in this poignant phrase from Scripture, “The matter distressed Abraham greatly because it concerned his son.”
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Although Isaac was the adored miracle child and the fulfillment of God's promise, Ishmael had been Abraham's beloved only child for fourteen years. How could throwing Ishmael out of the house be the right solution? And even if it was, how could he possibly do such a thing?
He loved Ishmael!

As Abraham's love for Isaac, Ishmael, and Sarah all collided in an epic conflict of interests, he must have agonized over what to do. The turmoil in his home and in his heart surely paralyzed him, because God Himself leaned out of heaven to shake things loose. God first reassured Abraham and then told him exactly what to do: “Do not be so distressed about the boy and your maidservant. Listen to whatever Sarah tells you, because it is through Isaac that your offspring will be reckoned. I will make the son of your maidservant into a nation also, because he is your offspring.”
⁸

As stunningly incompatible as it seems with our human understanding of justice, God Himself, the Divine Gardener, confirmed that removing Hagar and Ishmael from Abraham's home was exactly the right thing to do. What Abraham might otherwise have disregarded as Sarah's irrational overreaction to Hagar and Ishmael was actually wise and godly counsel. It would protect Isaac, who no doubt would have been emotionally devastated and spiritually destroyed had he been left to the mercy of an antagonistic, arrogant, jealous older brother. And it would release Ishmael, already a young man, to discover and fulfill God's unique purpose for his life.

Once God clearly made His will known, Abraham exhibited no procrastination or hesitation in obeying. He could have resisted God's directive, complaining that, at nearly 105 years of age, he was much too old for a confrontation like this. But he didn't. Though it was surely the hardest thing Abraham had ever done, at this point in his life he did exactly what God had asked of him: “Early the next morning Abraham took some food and a skin of water and gave them to Hagar. He set them on her shoulders and then sent her off with the boy.”
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I wonder what this moment must have been like for Hagar and Ishmael. I believe it's no exaggeration to say they were wounded to the extreme. By Abraham — a man of God and the friend of God! And here is the kicker:
it was the right thing to do
. But we also know that it wasn't just hard on Hagar and Ishmael; it was also hard on Abraham. Sometimes doing the right thing wounds others — and also wounds the wounder.

Are you having a difficult time accepting the fact that God can command us to do something that will hurt someone else? But sometimes He does. God's ways are not our ways and His thoughts are not our thoughts.
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There are times He leads us in paths that go against conventional wisdom and the advice of those we might otherwise consider experts. He may direct us to make decisions that go against our own strongly held opinions or feelings. But when we choose to do what Abraham did — simply trust and obey — in time, we will discover that God always leads us on the right path.
¹¹
Pruning produces a healthier, more vigorous, and more fruitful vine.

Sometimes obeying God carries collateral damage. I recall experiencing this myself when I taught Bible Study Fellowship in my city for twelve years. The class consistently maintained an active
membership of five hundred women and approximately two hundred small children. Using the example Jesus set when He trained twelve disciples and then in turn used them to reach the world, I poured myself into the training of over seventy leaders who then were responsible for discipling a smaller group of either women or children entrusted to their care so that each class member, whether young or old, received individual attention and shepherding.

The leaders and I became like sisters. We grew together in our knowledge of the Scripture, our love for Jesus, and our desire to get others into God's Word. I truly loved those women. To this day, when I encounter one of them in a restaurant or at a meeting, the strong bond that was developed through our frequent interactions is still there. I feel the joy of the Shepherd when I hear that they are now teaching their own Bible classes, or serving in significant ways within their own churches, or writing Bible lessons for children, or organizing evangelistic outreaches. Some have gone on to write books. Some have written curriculum for other Bible studies.

Because the health and spiritual well-being of the entire class was my ultimate responsibility, I worked tirelessly to make sure that each leader was growing spiritually, was vibrant in her own faith and relationship with the Lord, and was fully engaged in discipling those she was responsible for. And I was ever mindful that I could not lead others farther than where I was myself, so I was constantly motivated to grow spiritually.

Because our class was the first such class in our area, the women who made up the leadership were good, churched women, but very few had deep roots to their faith. Very few had ever been in a Bible study before becoming a member. Their freshness, their lack of preconceived
ideas about the Scripture, their eagerness to learn, their teachability made my role a delight. Truly a privilege.