Sarah’s Surrogates
Tag-team Baby-sitting and Forehead Stitches
Genesis 16:1-10; 18:1-12

As the oldest of six kids, I often had babysitting duty. I mostly liked it for the opportunity to let my brother and sisters do things we could never do under parental supervision: pillow fights, full-team wrestling, indoor soccer. We even got in some sock-footed hockey on the tile floor. Then one time Mom forgot something and came back to get it—and a picture of my teenage parenting style. It wasn’t long before Larissa, my oldest sister, became the one in charge when my parents weren’t.

Hey, I was just trying to help—to give my brother and sisters what they were missing. Even when Mom and Dad were home I tried to sneak some horseplay in my attic room. I figured they had forgotten the essence and immortality of youth. With that enlightened reasoning I tended to forget the five forehead stitches Larissa needed after she slipped while chasing me, the king-of-the-hill contest on my bed that ended in one less tooth in Emily’s head, and the hole in the wall from my touchdown dive.

At 16 years of age I thought I knew better—not on everything about parenting, just on the fun stuff. I let Mom and Dad figure out the groceries and insurance.

We’d all have to say that, in her late seventies, Sarah knew a lot.  She’d talked with a Pharaoh, managed the domestic side of a large cattle operation, and stayed in love with a quirky Bedouin for decades. So, it isn’t surprising that she had the whole age-and-childbirth thing figured out. Neither is it surprising at the ladies’ auxiliary meetings that the other hens clucked about grandkids while she had purse pictures only of her husband. All the sheep in Australia couldn’t touch a “World’s Greatest Grandma” t-shirt.

God knew that. And he knew better. God knew that the hens would cluck about baby booties ten years later and that Isaac’s laughter would be worth the wait. He knew Sarah and Abraham needed to learn patience.

Sarah found a night when she thought God had stepped out and came up with a babysitting idea. To her credit it was selfless to give her life-long love to a tanned young woman. Her solution passed the social norm test, too: patriarchs often had multiple wives. She probably thought she was doing God a favor. Hey, she didn’t break any lamps, and maybe God was busy working on other promises that night.

The only problem is that she was babysitting God’s baby. Well, his plan for the nation of Israel and the salvation of the world—and he didn’t need eternal conflict between Ishmael’s descendants and Israel any more than my parents needed a trip to the emergency room with my sister.

To be honest, we’ll probably never experience the enormous ramifications of a Sarah-type babysitting blunder, but we can seriously hurt somebody or our testimony. When we take a decision out of God’s hands, we’re asking for an Ishmael or at least lost teeth.

Word has it . . .
Can anyone teach God knowledge, in that he judges those on high? Job 21:22

Do you tell God your decisions or ask him for them?

Do you bring God in on just the big stuff?  Just the small stuff?

Do you use the Bible to support your decisions or visa versa?

How long are you willing to wait for an answer to prayer?

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Unless otherwise indicated, all Scripture texts are from the New American Standard Bible, © The Lockman Foundation 1960, 1962, 1963, 1968, 1971, 1972, 1973, 1975, 1977.