Held--Gen. 21

 

"Arise, lift up the lad and hold him in thy hand; for I will make him a great nation" (Gen. 21:18).

Oh blessed day, when little Isaac was born to Abraham and Sarah! And what a fitting name to call such a child--"laughter." Michael Card's song of this blessed event rings in the mind: "They called him laughter, for he came after the Father had made an impossible promise come true… The gift of a baby to a hopeless old lady: they called him 'laughter', because no other name would do."

Abraham and Sarah laughed. The newborn Isaac laughed. The whole encampment laughed with delight and joy.

With the exception of two.

For there was another son. Another who had been celebrated before, and now was set to the side. Another who had been supposed to have been the fulfillment of the long-awaited promise.

Ishmael.

The son of Hagar, the Egyptian servant: who, by extension, now could hardly contain her disappointment and anger.

"To Hagar, this event was the overthrow of her fondly cherished ambitions. Ishmael, now a youth, had been regarded by all in the encampment as the heir of Abraham's wealth and the interior of the blessings promised his descendants.

"Now he was suddenly set aside; and in their disappointment, mother and son hated the child of Sarah. The general rejoicing increased their jealousy,…" PP 146.

Hatred. Jealousy. Disappointment.

And then mocking. Ishmael's "turbulent disposition" was seen by Sarah as the youth mocked her son, and she pled for Abraham to send Hagar and her son away.

Abraham chafed at the idea of sending the son whom he loved into the unknown. But God assured him that this was His plan: "In all that Sarah hath said unto thee, hearken unto her voice" (Gen. 21:12).

Abraham obeyed. The next morning, after giving the two bread and water, Abraham sent them away. Banished them from his encampment...forever.

Easy?

"Abraham obeyed the angel's word, but it was not without keen suffering. The father's heart was heavy with unspoken grief as he sent away Hagar and his son." PP 146

And what of Hagar and Ishmael?

They "wandered in the wilderness of Beersheba. And the water was spent in the bottle,…" (vs. 15).

The wilderness is a cruel place. And once the water and bread are gone, the harsh conditions sap the strength of the boy. He is upon the verge of death when the story finds them again.

In the desert, Hagar finds a place to lay her unresponsive son. Heart breaking with despair and anguish, she stumbles away from him and falls onto the ground, sobbing aloud. "Let me not see the death of the child," she pleads through her tears (vs. 16).

Then, the Lord appears. He asks her why she weeps, then bids her to fear not: "for God hath heard the voice of the lad where he is" (vs. 17).

Then he bids her to "arise, lift up the lad, and hold him…for I will make him a great nation" (vs. 18).

Hagar does as she is bidden, and God opens a well in the desert, and both mother and son are refreshed and the boy is brought back from death's door.

There are many times we are made to wander in the wilderness. And often we take with us things we love, things we cherish.

But wandering in the wilderness saps energy, strength...even, sometimes, love. And these things we love begin to die.

We cast them away from ourselves and fall on our faces, weeping. We cannot bear to see the end of something we've cherished so, something that we've loved so much.

But the Lord comes. He brings solace to our hearts by one way or another. Sometimes all He does is allow us to cry in His arms and comfort us while we grieve for what we have lost.

And sometimes He does the unthinkable.

He commands us to take it up again.

To hold it. In our arms. Against our hearts. In the closest place we can.

Even though it's dying. Almost gone.

When something is dying, and we're afraid to see it go, afraid of the pain that will be caused by the reality of the death of what we've loved, we don't want to pick it back up and hold it close.

That's scary.

It makes you vulnerable.

It takes faith.

But when the Lord bids you hold something, someone, you can be sure of this…

Even though you're in the desert, a well of water will open up, and the death of what you've loved will not be.

It will come back from the gates of the grave, stronger, and better than before.

But you must take it up first.

It must be held.

Lord, give me the strength to take up that which You bid me to...and the faith to hold it close.