(c) Eva Marie Everson
Question 5: “Where have you come from, and where are you going?” (Genesis 16:8).
The Path of Silence: Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, the new creation has come: The old has gone, the new is here! (2 Corinthians 5:17).
The Path of Memory: Take time to write your thoughts, about your daily journey or memories.
The Path of Questioning: Read Genesis 16:1–14.
In our modern way of thinking, some parts of the Bible are difficult to understand, while even within those stories with foreign elements, we find commonalities. Moments we can grab hold of in understanding. Such is the complex story of Abram (later Abraham), Sarai (later Sarah), and Sarai’s handmaiden, Hagar.
We know little about Hagar. We know she originally hailed from Egypt, but how she came to be Sarai’s handmaiden is not fully known. We can guess. We can imagine when Abram and Sarai went to Egypt during the time of the famine (Genesis 12), they met Hagar and brought her home with them. Eventually, they settled in Hebron, which is located a little less than twenty miles from what would later become Jerusalem.
We can also deduce that she was young enough to become pregnant without question while her master and mistress were quite old and childless. At the point in the story where their lives become enmeshed, Abram is about 86 to Sarai’s 76.
In their time, a childless woman was believed to be experiencing a type of punishment. A curse. Husbands were given the right to divorce their wives over such a failure. And women were left feeling without purpose. However, while there were shadows of misfortune, there were also legal provisions to relieve the burden and to bring hope. And here’s the part we may find even more difficult to understand than a man divorcing his wife over childlessness or a woman placing her entire purpose into the rearing of those children—the giving of a handmaiden as a surrogate.
But the law did provide for this.
God had promised Abram and Sarai they would have children, but so far nothing had come of that vow. Sarai, in a moment of desperation, turned to the laws or codes. One such may have been the Sumerian Codes of Ur-Nammu, which stated a man could take a concubine if his wife, in due diligence of time, had not produced an heir. The child, although birthed by Hagar, would in effect be Sarai’s but would also be the legal heir of Abram. Sarai thought she had found a solution to the problem but she stirred up a hornet’s nest.
Hagar was taken to the bed of Abram, and she conceived.
Until that time, we have nothing to indicate that relationships between the three had been anything but amicable. But after discovering that she was expecting, Hagar treated Sarai with contempt. Sarai demanded Abram do something about her maidservant’s less than kind treatment toward her. But Abram replied, “She is your servant. You do something about it.”[i]
Sarai turned the tables and mistreated Hagar to the point that Hagar fled her new home and family. She headed southwest, walking through the desolate and barren area between Hebron and Egypt. Eventually, she stopped near a spring of water in the desert.
And it is there that God found her.
Caught between the past and the future, tormented by her present circumstances. Pregnant because of a law that had nothing to do with her or her people but had somehow become a key element in her story.
Biblically, both the spring and the desert hold keys to help us relate to the story.
While bodies of water can often be found within chaotic stories (the parting of the Red Sea … the crossing of the Jordan into the Promised Land … the storms over the Sea of Galilee), water itself often represents spiritual cleansing. Starting over. Renewal.
Salvation.
Listen to what Paul wrote in Ephesians … Christ loved the church and gave himself up for her to make her holy, cleansing her by the washing with water through the word, and to present her to himself as a radiant church, without stain or wrinkle or any other blemish, but holy and blameless.[ii] Many years earlier, Isaiah penned: With joy you will draw water from the wells of salvation.[iii]
Water is also seen as the representation of the Holy Spirit. The apostle John wrote: On the last and greatest day of the festival, Jesus stood and said in a loud voice, “Let anyone who is thirsty come to me and drink. Whoever believes in me, as Scripture has said, rivers of living water will flow from within them.” By this he meant the Spirit, whom those who believed in him were later to receive. Up to that time the Spirit had not been given, since Jesus had not yet been glorified.[iv]
The spring of water where the Lord found Hagar was in the wilderness … in Hebrew, the midbar, one of several words used for desert, depending on the degree of aridness and productivity. The word midbar comes from the root word dabar, which, in Hebrew, means “to speak.”
Years ago, while Miriam and I traveled alone in Israel, she said, “I would really like for you to experience to desert of Israel.” Because we had already traversed the landscapes around Ein Gedi and Masada, I thought I had been to the desert of Israel. But she was speaking of a more southern area near Ein Avdat and Nahal Zin, the largest dry riverbed in the Negev.
And so we went … and the vista was nearly more beautiful than my mind or my heart could comprehend. Limestone canyons carved into the landscape, dotted with caves and waterfalls and pools of reflective water. We walked as far as the land allowed, then turned around and came out again, from multi-colored, hard-pressed dust to verdant green grasses.
Then I understood.
“The sages say,” Miriam said, “that to hear God speak one must first go into the desert.”
Dabar … Midbar.
So it was with Hagar. Here, by the spring in the desert, God showed up.
“Hagar, handmaiden of Sarai, where did you come from,” He asked her, “and where are you going?”
The answer would have been one in the same. She had come from Egypt, and she was running back to Egypt. But she had made a stop along the journey in Hebron, where her life had become complicated, whether by her own desires or not. Then, attitudes had shifted. Power had been yielded until staying no longer felt like an option.
But she could not go by her feelings because, still, she was pregnant. For that pregnancy, God had a plan.
Hagar poured her heart out to the Lord, holding nothing back. He instructed her to return to Sarai, to submit to her, and that the child growing within her would become a powerful nation. Had she not taken the time to answer this two-sided question, she may have taken the wrong path along her journey.
***
There comes a time in every life when we end up in a desert. A wilderness. A dry and barren place where there is only silence. We feel hopeless, without a compass to guide us, and utterly alone, but we are not. There, just ahead of us, stands the Living Water, ready to speak if only we are ready to listen.
“Where did you come from?” He asks us.
This is a difficult question because it requires us to tear the layers of our stories apart. To peel them back and expose the heart of who we are. To look not only at the joys of our life but to face the hurts. To expose the pain within. It is not a question to be taken lightly, but it must be answered fully. Without reservation.
“Where are you going?” He then asks.
This is where we can suppose we know or even hope we know. But only God knows the right path for us. Are you willing to listen to what He has to say?
***
Hopelessness can become hopefulness once you realize God isn’t in the business of letting you down. What you can’t do, God can.[v] ~~Larry Dugger
it’s your turn to journal on The Path of Questioning. Noting the words I have underlined, plus any words you may have underlined as well, along with the questions God asked Hagar—and now asks you—write your answer to Him.
Circle toward the labyrinth’s center with The Path of Prayer. Then, sit quietly for a few moments with God before returning to life as you know it.
Question 6: “What is your name?” the man asked. He replied, “Jacob.” (Genesis 32:27).
The Path of Silence: Whoever has ears, let them hear what the Spirit says to the churches. To the one who is victorious, I will give some of the hidden manna. I will also give that person a white stone with a new name written on it, known only to the one who receives it (Revelation 2:17).
The Path of Memory: Take time to write your thoughts, about your daily journey, etc.
The Path of Questioning: Read Genesis 32:1–27.
Scripture tells us so much about our relationship with God and His connection to our name. And the Lord said to Moses, “I will do the very thing you have asked, because I am pleased with you and I know you by name” (Exodus 33:17). But now, this is what the Lord says—he who created you, Jacob, he who formed you, Israel: “Do not fear, for I have redeemed you; I have summoned you by name; you are mine” (Isaiah 43:1). And the gatekeeper opens the gate for him, and the sheep listen to his voice. He calls his own sheep by name and leads them out (John 10:3), amongst others.
This next biblical story is a difficult one to tell. Difficult because of its nature. Difficult because of the details. So let’s start before the beginning with a little bit of historical understanding.
In biblical days, infants were not named (typically) until after they were born. Parents either observed the child for signs of what they may become or named them after an event. It’s not unusual to read that Old Testament infants were given names for specific reasons. So it was with Abraham and Sarah, who had a son in their old age. They named this baby of the promise Isaac, which means “laughter.” An appropriate moniker for a baby whose “announcement” brought laughter to his mother “in her old age” (reference Genesis 21:6, 7). Isaac grew up, his mother died, and his father wanted to secure a wife for him who was a blood relative. Abraham sent his servant to his homeland, and shortly after arriving there, the servant (theologians assume it was Eliezer) met a beautiful young woman named Rebekah who, as it turned out, was a relative of Abraham’s.[i] After presenting Rebekah (and her family) with many gifts, the servant asked if Rebekah would be willing to return to the Negev where Isaac lived. There, she would marry him.
Rebekah said, “Yes, I will go.”
Isaac and Rebekah married, and in time, Rebekah became pregnant with twins. When the first son was born, he was ruddy in appearance and covered with a lot of hair, so Isaac and Rebekah named him Esau, which sounds like the Hebrew word for “hair.”[ii] The second son came into the world holding on to his brother’s heel and was named Jacob, which sounds like the Hebrew word for heel.[iii]
It also sounds like the Hebrew word for deceiver. Or supplanter.
Think of what carrying around this moniker must have been like for Jacob. But Jacob did more than endure it, he also grew into it. In those days, it was only the firstborn son who received the rights as an heir, and it was only the firstborn who received the blessing of the firstborn. Jacob didn’t like this arrangement at all. Seizing an opportunity, he tricked his brother into selling him his birthright when Esau came home hungry after a hunting trip. Then he, with the help of his mother, conned Isaac into giving Esau’s blessing to him.
Deception is, simply put, cheating. Lying. And a heartbreak waiting to happen.
In his old age, Isaac had gone blind. Believing he may die soon, he asked his game-hunting son Esau to go out and bring back some of Isaac’s favorite wild game for a meal. “Do this,” Isaac said, “and when you return, I’ll pronounce my blessing over you.”[iv]
Rebekah overheard her husband and, once Esau had left, told Jacob to get two fine young goats from their flocks. She would then prepare a meal she knew Isaac would love. “Then you’ll take the meal in,” she told her younger son, “and your father will bless you.”
But Jacob, thinking shrewdly, reminded his mother that his brother was hairy while he was not. Seemingly, Rebekah was every bit the conwoman as her son the conman. She prepared the meal, retrieved some of Esau’s clothes to put on Jacob, then covered his arms and neck with the hair from one of the young goats.
Jacob was now dressed for the part. He took the meal to his father and called out to him, “My father?”
But Isaac wasn’t sure who had entered the room. “Are you Esau or Jacob,” he asked.
And Jacob answered, “I am Esau.”
But Isaac had a moment of doubt. The clothes smelled like Esau’s. The arms felt like Esau’s. But the voice … “Are you really my son Esau?” Isaac asked.
And Jacob answered, “Yes, I am.”
With no other arguments left, Isaac blessed him with the blessing of the firstborn son, removing that right from Esau forever.
Lies and deceptions cannot stay hidden long. Eventually the truth came out and Esau declared that once Isaac was dead, he would kill his brother. Rebekah, fearful for her younger son’s life, devised another plan, one that included Isaac sending Jacob to the house of her father—Jacob’s grandfather—to live with her brother Laban in Mesopotamia.
And so he did. Along the way, God came to Jacob in a vision (commonly called “Jacob’s Dream” or “Jacob’s Ladder”), reminding the young runaway that He would always be with him. In the dream, a ladder stretched from the earth to heaven. Upon it, angels ascended and descended. But at the glorious top, the Lord stood and declared, “I am the Lord, the God of your father Abraham and the God of Isaac. I will give you and your descendants the land on which you are lying. Your descendants will be like the dust of the earth, and you will spread out to the west and to the east, to the north and to the south. All peoples on earth will be blessed through you and your offspring. I am with you and will watch over you wherever you go, and I will bring you back to this land. I will not leave you until I have done what I have promised.”[v]
But if we perceive Jacob as a great deceiver, we must admit he met his match with his uncle Laban, a man who had two daughters—Leah, the oldest who had “weak eyes,” and Rachel who was not only shapely but beautiful to look at. Jacob was immediately smitten with the younger of the two and went to Laban to ask for his cousin’s hand in marriage. He said, “I’ll work for you for seven years if you give her to me as my wife.”
Remember, Jacob had come from a father of great wealth. He had servants. But now, so great was his desire for this young girl, he proposed that he would be a servant to Laban. Seven years of field work is by no means a day in the park, but Jacob was willing to humble himself for what he truly wanted, and he was willing to gain it honestly.
Laban agreed, but when the seven years was up, he veiled Leah as the bride (we can only imagine how they kept Rachel away). And, wonder of wonders, so brazen was Laban that he invited folks—neighbors and family and friends—to be a part of the celebration. That night, Jacob slept with his new wife for the first time. The veil was lifted. But their wedding chamber would have been dark, so Jacob could not have known that the older sister had replaced the younger, much like he—the younger brother—had replaced his older brother in the deception of their father.
But in the morning as the sun rose, all the “lights” came on.
“What have you done to me?” Jacob demanded of Laban. “I worked seven years for Rachel, not for Leah!”
Laban, cool as you please, told Jacob that it was against their custom to allow the younger to marry before the older. “But don’t panic,” said Laban. “Wait until the bridal week is over and I’ll marry you to Rachel as well … ” (Imagine him stroking his chin here.) “Provided,” he added, “you work another seven years for me.”
What was Jacob to do? He loved Rachel. He wanted Rachel. And so to get who he wanted, he would work not seven but fourteen years.
And the years passed. Leah had children for Jacob. As their custom allowed, her maidservant had children for Jacob. Rachel’s maidservant had children for Jacob. But Rachel, the preferred bride, remained barren. Finally, Rachel also became pregnant, and after years of working for his uncle/father-in-law and siring babies with his wives and their maidservants, Jacob decided it was time to go home. Whatever consequences lay ahead, he was ready to face them.
There is little doubt (in my mind) that he was also wondering about the promise God had made to him.
More than the difficulty of making such a decision, there was another issue, one that pressed Jacob in his current situation. Jacob had become wealthy in his own right, and for Laban, Jacob leaving meant losing income. Before long, Jacob had a situation on his hands that left him with few choices, so he took the one he knew so well: while Laban was away shearing sheep, Jacob deceivingly packed up everything he owned, put his wives and children on camels, and set out for Canaan, driving his livestock before him.
Jacob outwitted Laban the Aramean, Genesis 31:20 tells us, for they set out secretlyand never told Laban they were leaving.
Jacob had grown a lot in his twenty years on the run[vi]—those years since he’d deceived his father and fled from his brother whom he’d cheated out of both birthright and blessing—but at the core of who he was, and in spite of God having been with him all along as He’d promised, Jacob was still a heel.
When Jacob neared his homeland, angels of God came to meet him as if they were standing in wait for the prodigal son to return. What an extraordinary moment for Isaac’s youngest son—the son of promise’s son of promise. We are not told what the angels said to Jacob, and we are not told what Jacob said to them. We are only told that they were there and Jacob exclaimed, “This is God’s camp!” He named the place Mahanaim.[vii]
We can surmise as Jacob drew nearer to his home—to Isaac and to Esau—he grew concerned. How would his father and brother receive him after all this time? Would they be pleased he had returned? Would they welcome his wives, his children? Would they see that God had smiled on him and had blessed him greatly in both his wealth and his family? Or would Isaac turn him away? Would Esau do as he had promised and kill him?
The visit from the angels would have certainly assured Jacob that, no matter what, God was still with him.
Jacob wisely sent messengers to where his brother lived in Edom, a message of both humility (He referred to himself as “your servant Jacob.”) and hope that Esau would welcome him back with fondness. And then he waited …
… until the messengers returned with a message of their own. “Your brother Esau,” they said, “is on his way to meet you with an army of 400 men!”[viii]
Imagine Jacob’s thoughts. An army? Of 400 men? This cannot possibly be good.
Jacob made two wise decisions: first, he divided his household (so if one camp was attacked, the other could escape), and then he prayed.
“O God of my father Abraham, God of my father Isaac, Lord, you who said to me, ‘Go back to your country and your relatives, and I will make you prosper,’ I am unworthy of all the kindness and faithfulness you have shown your servant. I had only my staff when I crossed this Jordan, but now I have become two camps. Save me, I pray, from the hand of my brother Esau, for I am afraid he will come and attack me, and also the mothers with their children. But you have said, ‘I will surely make you prosper and will make your descendants like the sand of the sea, which cannot be counted.’”[ix]
Jacob then sent gifts to his brother—goats and ewes and rams and camels and cows and bulls and donkeys—hoping to placate Esau. Finally, he crossed the Jabbok River (interestingly, the name Jabbok means absolute surrender) with his wives and children, followed by their possessions, so Esau—if he were going to attack—would come across the possessions first, thus protecting Jacob’s immediate family. After securing them all, Jacob returned to their original camp … and waited.
When suddenly …
There was a Man. Not just any Man, although Scripture does not reveal His nature until later. This Man wrestled with Jacob, and Jacob with Him. And our story’s hero wasn’t giving up easily. When the first traces of dawn lit the sky in the dull reds and oranges which become brilliant as the sun pushes upward, the Man touched Jacob’s hip, pulling it from its socket.
The Man said, “You must let me go because morning is breaking.”
Jacob, no doubt in pain, but who clearly knew the identity of the One he fought said, “Not unless you bless me.”
Wow, Jacob! First you want the blessing from your father … then you want an additional blessing from God? Then again, why not? If I were in the presence of the Holy Creator and He was asking something of me, I may do the same, because if not then, when?
The Man asked Jacob the most amazing question—and one that brings tears to my eyes each time I read it: what is your name?
Can you imagine Jacob’s heart-stopping moment as he heard that question—this man who would become the last of the three patriarchs of the Judeo-Christian faith? Can you see him standing there, panting for breath in the aftermath of a divine battle, his memory thrown back to that day when he had asked his father to bless him, leaving Isaac to ask, “Are you really Esau?”
I am Esau …he had said.
And now? When he was standing in the presence of the Living God, does he lie? Can he? This was not his aging, blinded father; this was God. All-seeing. All-knowing. Would he dare to be so bold … so audacious … so deceiving?
I imagine Jacob looked directly into the eyes of the Man and, with humble clarity, said, “I am Jacob.”
I am the heel. The supplanter. The conman. This is who I am.
Perhaps for the first time in Jacob’s life, he knew exactly who he was, and perhaps for the first time, he said it out loud with understanding.
And if he thought the blessing from his father had been valuable … oh, Jacob, just you wait and see.
***
We all wrestle at times with who we are. We wrestle with who God is. And we often wrestle with who God wants usto be. We have our preconceived notions of how to win in this world. To better ourselves. To get ahead. But only God fully understands the path He designed and laid out for us. Only God can lead us to where He wants us to go; only God can make us who He wants us to be. We can take our own paths, as messy as that may become. But God will not leave us to our own devices, especially when He has so much at stake within His plans for us.
Every believer has a story, a narrative that tells who we are. Some of our story is attractive and some is not. But all of it leads to who we are in ourselves as well as in Christ Jesus. The Bible reveals a beautiful truth in Revelation 2:17: Whoever has ears, let them hear what the Spirit says to the churches. To the one who is victorious, I will give some of the hidden manna. I will also give that person a white stone with a new name written on it, known only to the one who receives it.
To the one who is victorious. Will that be you?
What is your story? What is your name?
Circle toward the labyrinth’s center with The Path of Prayer. Then, sit quietly for a few moments with God before returning to life as you know it.
***
One can never wrestle enough with God if one does so out of pure regard for the truth.[x]
***
Now it’s your turn to journal on The Path of Questioning. Noting the words I underlined, plus any you may have underlined as well, along with the questions God asked Jacob—and now asks you—write your answer to Him.
Write your answer to Him.
[i] Genesis 16:6, emphasis mine
[ii] Ephesians 5:25b–27
[iii] Isaiah 12: 3
[iv] John 7:37–39
[v] Dugger, Larry, A 40-Day Guide to Overcoming Anxiety, Worry, and Emotional Distress (Fidelis Publishing, Nashville, TN), 13.
[i] Rebekah was the daughter of Bethuel (Abraham’s nephew) and the granddaughter of Nahor (Abraham’s brother) and Milcah, who was the daughter of Haran, Abraham’s brother.
[ii] The word “hair” in Hebrew is transliterated as śē ‘ār
[iii] The Hebrew word for “heel” is transliterated as ‘āqēb while Jacob is transliterated as ya‘ăqōb
[iv] Genesis 27:4
[v] Genesis 28:13–15
[vi] See Genesis 31:38
[vii] Genesis 32:1–2
[viii][viii] Genesis 32:6
[ix] Genesis 32:12
[x] Weil, Simone, Waiting for God (Harper & Row: San Francisco, 1973), 69.
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