Sarai felt desperation tugging at her heart, seeping in the edges of her sanity. She had never wanted anything more than to have a family with Abram. Each passing year of wandering felt as if they were wandering farther and farther from hope. Hope deferred was making her heartache. She racked her brain regularly to figure out how to make their dreams a reality but ultimately, had no idea how to help him walk in the potential of his future. He deserved a son, someone to carry on his name. And she longed to give him such a loving gift. Unfortunately, years of loss and desperate dreams had left her with disparaged hope. A baby was for others but not them. At well over sixty-five years of age, her womb was as dry as the land in which they traveled. God had instructed her husband to go to a land in which He would show him. The tumbleweeds and the unyielding sun were her constant reminders that they were no longer accustomed to the peace and comfort of a home she had grown to love. The parched valleys and the harsh winds only intensified the journey.
Some nights, Abram would lay on her bosom with her stroking his head as he recounted the promises he heard from God. She often marveled at this idea of God, the Creator, speaking directly to her husband. She saw nothing so great about their lives that it warranted God’s blessings, but she was grateful for them, nonetheless. Everything seemed so promising in the beginning. As each year passed, she had begun to look at them as fables, tales even, of what could have been and the reality of what was smothered what was left of her hope.
On one particular night, she saw Abram gazing into the sky in wonder. Before she could ask what had him so enrapt, he was gathering his butcher supplies and set off towards the livestock. Later, he returned to their tent with bewildered eyes as he explained what he had just witnessed. The Lord had made a covenant with him and promised to give him descendants. Sarai didn’t hear much beyond the word descendants because descendants meant that he was going to have children, an heir. Descendants meant that life would come from his seed.
She looked down at her hands. Wrinkly, tired, old hands that betrayed her youth and mirrored how far past reality childbearing truly was. What descendants could come from this old body? Impossible.
She tossed the thought aside. No sense in dwelling on the impossible.
An old custom from their homeland flitted across her remembrance. A subtle thought. Instead of waiting for the promise, it encouraged creating an opportunity to bring it to fruition. Perhaps she wasn’t the one to give Abram children. She could use her maid, Hagar, to bear their children. The child could be delivered right into her arms, her face would the first it would see. She could almost smell the milk from the baby’s breath as she imagined his tiny finger gripping hers. He would have Abram’s serious eyes and unruly hair and they would raise him to be an heir to greatness.
This could work.
Determined in her decision, Sarai shared her idea with Abram. Hagar was soon pregnant and birthing a son. Ishmael was his name but an heir he was not. Sarai quickly realized that her scheme to create an heir for Abram served to be reckless and futile. Hagar bred contempt and Sarai’s hope dissolved as quickly as it had come.
In spite of her lack of faith, God’s plans were sure.
God confirmed His covenant with Abram, renaming him Abraham, father of many nations. And in his confirmation, Abraham also received a word for Sarai. He rushed into the tent, anxious to share what God revealed to him. Excitedly, he shared how God had directed him to circumcise their entire camp and that this covenant would lead him to be a father of many nations.
As he spoke, Sarai found it difficult to concentrate. It all seemed too good to be true. Was Hagar going to have more kids? Their relationship was already ruined with the birth of Ishmael. She wasn’t sure she could endure the disdain from more offspring. If not Hagar, was God going to use Abraham’s servants? She tried to make sense of the promise but struggled to understand or imagine the possibility.
“And Sarai,” Abraham snapped her mind out of its spiraling thought pattern. “You will now be called Sarah. You will give me a son and will become a mother of nations. Kings of people will come from you.” Sarah stared in disbelief into Abraham’s eyes. She shook her head and backed away from him. Madness. Why would he say such cruel things? Why would he stir her hope at a time when she didn’t have any left?
Her mind ventured back to the devastation she would feel each month when her womanly time would come, reminding her how she wasn’t able to conceive. Again and again and again. The sideways glances and hushed whispers became unbearable. Intimacy with Abram dwindled and with it, her self-worth. She yearned to run away from the looks other women would give her when they realized she was aging and the probability of birthing a child was moving beyond her grasp. Though she left the comforts of their home, she mainly left behind the pitying looks and shame. No longer required to feign excitement every time she found out about another relative having a son.
Abraham went on to tell her how he thought God was referring to Ishmael, but He was certain that Sarah would give him a son whose name would be Isaac. He had a bewildered look of happiness that she had never seen before. His words spilled out at warp speed and she listened feverishly, daring to believe each one.
She pondered each statement almost obsessively. She wanted to ask more questions, maybe even point out why this wasn’t possible, but Abraham seemed so . . . so sure. It was if he didn’t have one doubt in his mind. Such faith. She marveled at the strength of his faith and prayed that she could have even a corner of his conviction.
One day, while the sun’s heat relentlessly covered the land, three men visited. Abraham ran from the door of the tent to meet the guests and offered them rest and replenishment. He only popped back into the tent long enough to give Sarah instructions to prepare bread while he gave another servant instructions on preparing meat. Sarah strained to hear their conversation, curious to see where their travels were taking them.
“Where is Sarah your wife?” she heard one ask. She froze in place. How did he know her name? Perhaps they were visitors from home that she didn’t recognize? She tiptoed towards the door of the tent hoping to hear more clearly.
“I will return to you at this time next year and your wife, Sarah, will have a son.”
Sarah let a laugh slip out but quickly covered her mouth with her hand, shaking her head at the preposterous statement. She couldn’t imagine that level of pleasure, let alone bearing a child at this old of age.
“Why did Sarah laugh and ask if she will indeed bear a child at her old age? Is anything too difficult for the Lord? At the appointed time I will return to you next year and Sarah will have a son.”
Sarah shook her head and denied his allegation. “I did not laugh,” she said in fear. This was obviously not just some man and she was in the presence of God.
“No, but you did laugh.”
Sarah sank to her knees. She kept repeating the words, “is anything too difficult for the Lord?” over and over in her mind. She replayed the visitor’s words and felt a spark. A spark ignited the warmth of faith and tingled in her toes before spreading to her fingertips. For the first time in years, hope took root, blossoming into joy. Belief wrapped around her hope, producing expectations that were beyond what she ever could dare think or imagine.
“Isaac.” She said the name out loud. Tasted it. Let it form in her mouth with a smile. She felt a glee building inside that could never be extinguished. She would have a son and his name would be Isaac.
The following year, as she held her dear son in her arms, hope engulfed her. A tear fell from her eye in complete amazement. The God of Abraham made a promise, and He who promised is faithful.
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