These are the generations of Shem. Shem was a hundred years old, and begot Arphaxad two years after the flood.
After the tower at Babel, the story leaves the nations and follows one family. Genesis 11:10 opens the record of Shem's line, and it raises two questions: why the focus narrows here, and what a list of names and ages can teach.
Genesis falls into sections. Each one opens with the words "these are the generations of." One writer marks where each section starts and ends:
Genesis 2:4 — Genesis 4:26, Generations of heavens and earth. Genesis 5:1 — Genesis 6:8, Generations of Adam. Genesis 6:9 — Genesis 9:29, Generations of Noah. Genesis 10:1 — Genesis 11:9, Generations of sons of Noah. Genesis 11:10 — Genesis 11:26, Generations of Shem. Genesis 11:27 — Genesis 25:11, Generations of Terah.
These headings track a series of tests, and this one closes the sequence:
First, God set Adam up in innocence, and he failed. "The generations of the heavens and of the earth" (Gen. 2:4) include Adam before the fall. Next God tested man with no restraint on him, up to the flood, and "the book of the generations of Adam" [now fallen] (Gen. 5:1) brings us up to the flood and Noah. After the flood God tests man again — He put government into Noah's hands — and man failed. God chooses Noah's son Shem, and "these are the generations of Shem" (Gen. 11:10) brings us up to Abram.
Shem's descendants were already listed in chapter 10. This second list is selective, and the selection has a destination:
From verse 10 Scripture traces the line of Shem further than Chapter 10:21-31 does. That earlier list goes as far as Joktan the son of Peleg and stops with his thirteen sons. This genealogy of Chapter 11 continues with Reu the son of Peleg, ignoring Joktan and his sons. The reason is clear. Reu's line leads on to Nahor, Terah and Abram. God had purposed Abram to be the father of a chosen race whom He would separate from the rest of the nations. … Matthew 1 begins the New Testament by showing that Christ, the Messiah of Israel, is the official descendant of Abraham.
The genealogy is therefore a runway, not a detour:
Here we have a genealogy that ends with Abram. The next chapter follows it with the mighty principle of grace: God's call. That prepares the way outwardly. But Jehovah shines through this dealing and revelation. Here we have the special line. It is no more an "endless genealogy" than that of Adam to Noah in Gen. 5. We may notice ten links in the chain of both chapters.
Genesis 5 repeats a refrain that this chapter drops, and the silence is deliberate:
The sorrowful chime sounds all through the earlier list: "and he died." Not once does it sound in the later one, though as a fact all spoken of in chap. 11 did die… The second half of chap. 11 gives us the line of blessing. It names each succession down to Abram, the time when the promise was made, and the years each man lived. But it says nothing of death. Others may call either one an accident. To the believer, a distinct purpose in each is hard to miss.
Shem's hundred years open a run of numbers that shrink fast:
Compared with his father Noah and those before him, Shem's years mark the growing decline of human age after the flood. Yet it was given to him, before he came near the end of his six hundred years, to live into the days not of Abram only but of Isaac. Peleg, the fifth in this series, did not reach half the limit of Shem's term; and Nahor, the father of Terah, dwindled to a hundred and forty-five years.
Shem's long life served a purpose:
One remarkable fact in Gen. 11:10-26 is the long life of Shem. He outlived many generations of his own descendants, and that in turn shows God's gracious purpose in his very long life. He had seen the flood with his own eyes, and he was an honoured saint of God (Gen. 9:26). He lived on to bear witness to very many of the things he had himself seen and heard.
The shrinking numbers match something worse — a spiritual slide in the very family God had marked out:
Abram's descent from Shem shows him in the line of promise. … But the promise itself expressed a grace in God which came before any claim on Abram's part. In the chosen line itself we have only a scanty record of names and lengths of life. Even so, the decay is plain, and it never stops. … Elsewhere we read that they fell away from God, and that left every hope resting on the sovereign grace of God.
- Heading. "These are the generations of Shem" starts a fresh section of Genesis. It closes the series of man's testings and runs from the flood to Abram.
- Narrowing. Chapter 10 spread out into nations. Chapter 11 drops the side branches and keeps only the names that lead to Abram — and through him to Christ.
- Silence. Genesis 5 tolls "and he died" at every link; this list of blessing never once says it, though every man in it died.
- Decline. Ages fall fast after the flood, and decay runs through the chosen family too. Only God's grace is left to hope in.
- Witness. Shem's six hundred years let him outlive generations of his own children. He could still tell of the flood he had seen, and he lived on into the days of Abram and Isaac.
And Shem lived after he had begotten Arphaxad five hundred years, and begot sons and daughters.
Genesis 11:11 is one link in a chain of ten names that runs from Shem, the son of Noah, down to Abram. It gives only a number of years and a quiet note about more children. Yet commentators see a plan in the list: where the line is heading, why the years keep shrinking, and why death is never named.
This genealogy is not a bare record of names. It moves toward a person, and toward an act of God.
Here is a genealogy that ends with Abram. The next chapter follows it with the mighty principle of grace: God's call... Here we have the special line.
The line is also selective. Genesis 10 followed one branch of Shem's family. This chapter drops that branch and keeps only the line that leads to Abram.
From verse 10 the record traces the line of Shem further than Genesis 10:21-31 does. That chapter goes as far as Joktan the son of Peleg and stops with his thirteen sons. This genealogy in Genesis 11 carries on with Reu the son of Peleg instead, and leaves Joktan and his sons out. The reason is clear. Reu's line leads to Nahor, Terah and Abram... God has taken care to trace that line down through the ages. Matthew 1 opens the New Testament by showing that Christ, the Messiah of Israel, is the official descendant of Abraham.
Genesis 5 has the same shape — a name, the years, the sons and daughters — but one phrase is missing here.
The sad chime sounds all through the earlier list: "and he died." It never sounds in the later one, though in fact everyone named in chapter 11 did die... The second half of chapter 11 gives us the line of blessing. It tells us of each generation down to Abram, the time when the promise was made, and the years they lived. But it says nothing about death. Let anyone call either of these an accident; the believer can hardly miss a clear purpose in each.
Shem's remaining five centuries were not idle time.
One remarkable fact shown in Genesis 11:10-26 is how long Shem lived. He outlived many generations of his own descendants. That in turn shows God's gracious purpose in giving him such a long life. He saw the flood himself, and he was an honoured saint of God (Genesis 9:26). So he lived on to testify to very many of the things he had seen and heard. How the heart of Shem must have grieved when not only the sons of Ham and Japheth, but his own children, turned to gross idolatry (Joshua 24:2)! He was living at the time when God called Abram.
Shem's number is large. It is already smaller than his father's, and the numbers keep falling through the chapter.
Compared with his father Noah and those before him, Shem's years mark the shrinking of human life after the flood. Yet God let him live, before his own six hundred years were nearly over, into the days not only of Abram but of Isaac. Peleg, the fifth in this list, did not reach half of Shem's total. Nahor, the father of Terah, dropped to a hundred and forty-five years. So under God's ordering, man was moving fast toward the ordinary lifespan of the days since the prayer of Moses (Psalm 90).
The falling numbers match something happening in the family itself.
Here again ten names stand out, the same number as in Genesis 5. Both lists, in chapters 5 and 11, end with a man to whom God reveals Himself, and with each of them a new age begins: Noah and Abram... The line of Shem was breaking down, and some of the names show it. Terah (which means delay), the father of Abram, worshipped idols... When the line of Shem had failed, God called Abram.
That decline is what makes the next chapter necessary. Nothing in the list earns what follows it.
But the promise itself expressed a grace in God that came before any claim Abram could make. In the chosen line itself we have only a thin record of names and ages, yet the decay is plain, and it never stops... elsewhere we read that they fell away from God, so that hope could rest only on His sovereign grace.
One caution belongs with these figures. The ancient copies do not all agree on them.
Once again the Hebrew Scriptures and the Septuagint, the old Greek translation, do not agree... So any dating we work out for the time between Shem and Abraham could be wrong by as much as 650 years.
- Line — Ten names run from Shem to Abram. The list drops every side branch, because it is heading somewhere.
- Life — Shem's five hundred remaining years outlasted generations of his own descendants. He could still speak as a witness of the flood.
- Loss — Each generation after him lives a shorter life, down toward the ordinary span of Moses' day (Psalm 90).
- Decline — The shrinking years match a shrinking faith. The family God had blessed ended up worshipping idols.
- Grace — The chosen line failed. So the call of Abram in the next chapter rests on God's grace, not on anything the family earned.
And Arphaxad lived thirty-five years, and begot Shelah.
Genesis 11 turns from the scattered nations at Babel to a quiet list of names. This verse is one link in that chain, and it raises three questions: why this family line, why the ages keep falling, and why Luke's list in the New Testament adds a name here.
This chapter follows one family thread only, and it has a destination in view.
We are now given a family line that ends with Abram. The next chapter follows it with the mighty principle of grace: God's call. That prepares the way on the outside. But Jehovah shines through this working and this revelation. Here we have the special line. It is no more an "endless genealogy" than the line from Adam to Noah in Genesis 5. We can count ten links in the chain in both chapters.
The choice is deliberate. The record drops the other branches without comment and carries this one forward.
From verse 10 the line of Shem is traced further than in Genesis 10:21-31. That earlier list goes as far as Joktan the son of Peleg and stops with his thirteen sons. The list in Genesis 11 carries on instead with Reu the son of Peleg, and passes over Joktan and his sons. The reason is clear. Reu's line leads to Nahor, Terah and Abram, and God had planned for Abram to be the father of a chosen people whom He would separate from the rest of the nations.
Little is said about the man named here. What matters is where his line leads.
Of Arpachshad we can say even less. He leads straight down to the time of promise, and that is what the Old Testament is almost entirely taken up with.
Arpachshad fathers Shelah at 35. Read the whole list and a pattern appears. Each generation lives a shorter life than the one before.
Compared with his father Noah and those before him, Shem's years show how human life was shrinking after the flood. Yet God let him live, well before the end of his six hundred years, into the days not only of Abram but of Isaac. Peleg, the fifth in this series, did not reach half of Shem's span. Nahor, the father of Terah, dropped to a hundred and forty-five years. So in God's ordering of things, man was coming by rapid steps to the normal length of life since the prayer of Moses (Psalm 90).
Shem's unusually long life had a purpose.
One remarkable fact shown in Genesis 11:10-26 is the long life of Shem. He outlived many generations of his own descendants, and that shows God's gracious purpose in giving him such a long life. He had seen the flood himself, and he was an honoured saint of God (Genesis 9:26). He lived on to tell of many of the things he had himself seen and heard.
The shrinking ages are not the only decline in this list.
Abram's descent from Shem shows him in the line of promise... But the promise itself expressed a grace in God that came before any personal claim at all on Abram's part. In the chosen line itself we have only a thin record of names and lengths of life. Even so, it is plain that there is decay, and that it never stops. No doubt the years of man's life were growing shorter everywhere, but here too there was no exception. Elsewhere we read that these men turned away from God, and that left every hope resting on His sovereign grace.
Luke's family list places a man called Cainan between Arpachshad and Shelah. The Hebrew text of this verse does not have him. The Septuagint, an early Greek translation of the Old Testament, does.
He is usually called the "second" Cainan, because an earlier Cainan is mentioned in Luke 3:37. What is striking is that his name does not appear in Genesis 10:24, Genesis 11:12 or 1 Chronicles 1:18 in the Hebrew, the Samaritan Pentateuch, the Vulgate, the Syriac or the Arabic texts. But it is in the Septuagint, and from there it may have found its way into Luke's Gospel.
Commentators differ on how the extra name arose. Some think it came from the Septuagint into Luke. Others think later copies of the Septuagint took it from Luke, or that Luke drew it from a list not kept in the Old Testament.
- Line. The record follows one son of Shem and drops the rest, because Arpachshad "leads straight down to the time of promise."
- Length. Each name in the list lives a shorter life than the last. After the flood, man moves by rapid steps toward the normal span of Psalm 90.
- Legacy. Shem outlived many generations of his own family, so he could tell them first-hand what he had seen of the flood.
- Loss. The chosen line decayed in years and in faith, so every hope rested on God's sovereign grace.
- Later. Luke's list adds a name here that the Hebrew text lacks, and commentators differ on where it came from.
And Arphaxad lived after he had begotten Shelah four hundred and three years, and begot sons and daughters.
Genesis 11:13 is one line in a chain of ten names running from Shem down to Abram. It reads like bare bookkeeping: a father, a son, a number, and a crowd of unnamed children. Yet the shape of the record, its numbers, and its silences all carry meaning.
The same family appears twice in these chapters, and the two accounts are not duplicates.
The divine wisdom of the record is certainly not in question; but it is not man's way of working. God's design is stamped on this case, as on the other lists. There is no repetition here and no oversight, still less any clash between different documents or writers. And we can see that the plan in chapter 10 was not to follow Arphaxad's line past his grandson Peleg, Eber's son. It was to state the deeply interesting fact that Peleg's name refers to the division of the earth in his days. From there the record turns aside to Peleg's brother Joktan.
The text handles Arphaxad (spelled Arpachshad in the ESV) differently from the men around him. Compare him with Nimrod, the hunter who dominates chapter 10.
Notice that the inspiring Spirit led Moses to change his manner at this point. He brings in Arphaxad and his family as a kind of fresh start... In evil, a new departure was made with Cush and his descendants; here, for good, Arphaxad comes before us. Yet for now little is said of him, unlike Nimrod, who shot into prominence at once. Nimrod was not content to be a mighty hunter before Jehovah; then and afterwards he began to be mighty on the earth. Good is rare here below, and it grows slowly.
Of Shelah himself the Bible tells us almost nothing beyond his place in the chain. His name is the one clue we have.
Little can be said with certainty about Salah, or Salach, because the Bible is silent. He was the father of Eber, in the direct line of the chosen patriarch Abram, the man entrusted with the promise. The name means shoot or extension; but to treat it as a fiction on that ground ought to be too absurd even for sceptics to believe.
The 403 years are long by any standard we know. Yet they are already short next to the lives of the men before the flood. Read down the list and the numbers keep falling.
Compared with his father Noah and those before him, Shem's years mark the growing decline in human lifespan after the flood. Yet before he came near the end of his six hundred years, he lived on into the days not only of Abram but of Isaac. Peleg, the fifth in this series, did not reach half of Shem's total; and Nahor, the father of Terah, shrank to a hundred and forty-five years. So in God's providential arrangements man was coming by rapid steps to the lifespan that has been normal since the prayer of Moses (Psalm 90).
Another writer notes what the list leaves out. It never adds up the whole span of a man's life.
The whole span of the lives of the members of Shem's family is not noted, so that the Spirit would draw our attention to it there, in chapter 11. Here the change is the important thing.
Arphaxad had other children besides Shelah, and the verse names none of them. Whole branches of the family disappear into one phrase.
Divine purpose is the key... It explains why the general genealogy leaves out every detail outside the direct line of the chosen people, and above all outside the line of the Messiah — God's salvation, a light for revelation to the Gentiles, and the glory of His people Israel. The rest of their children, however many or however notable in human eyes, are simply merged into the "sons and daughters" they had.
The chain does not end in strength. It ends in a family that had turned to idols.
Here again we find ten names standing out. We have the same number in Genesis 5. Both genealogies, in chapters 5 and 11, end with a man to whom God reveals Himself, and with each one a new era in God's dealings begins — Noah and Abram. Notice the decreasing years of life. Shem was 600 years old, the grandfather of Abram only 148. The line of Shem was degenerating; some of the names show this. Terah (delay), the father of Abram, was an idolater. The descendants of Shem worshipped idols (Joshua 24:2). When the line of Shem had failed, God called Abram.
- Chosen line. Moses introduces Arphaxad's family as a fresh start on the side of good. The record says little about it, unlike Nimrod, who rose fast into prominence.
- Counted line. The record shows design, not accident. It drops the side branches. It gives the years after each birth, but never totals a man's life.
- Shrinking line. The 403 years are long, yet part of a steady fall from Noah's span toward the ordinary human lifetime.
- Narrow line. The record folds every other child of Arphaxad into "other sons and daughters." It follows only the line that runs to the chosen people and to the Messiah.
- Failing line. The line ends in Terah, an idolater. There God calls Abram and starts again.
And Shelah lived thirty years, and begot Eber.
The tower of Babel has just scattered the nations. Now Scripture slows down to count names and years in one family, and this verse is a link in that chain. Why does God keep such a record?
The list in Genesis 11 is not the same as the one in chapter 10. The earlier account follows a different branch and stops. This one keeps going in one direction, and one writer follows it into the New Testament.
From verse 10 Scripture traces the line of Shem further than Genesis 10:21-31 does. That earlier list goes as far as Joktan the son of Peleg and stops with his thirteen sons. This genealogy of Genesis 11 continues with Reu the son of Peleg, ignoring Joktan and his sons. The reason is clear. Reu's line leads on to Nahor, Terah and Abram. God had purposed that Abram should be the father of a chosen race, whom He would separate from the rest of the nations… God has been careful to trace that line down through the ages. Matthew 1 begins the New Testament by showing that Christ the Messiah of Israel is the official descendant of Abraham.
The verse gives Shelah's age and his son, then moves on. What is left is a name with a meaning, and a place in the line that leads to Abram.
We can say little for certain about Salah, or Shelah, because the Bible is silent. He was the father of Eber in the direct line of the chosen patriarch Abram, the one entrusted with the promise. The name signifies shoot or extension, but to regard it therefore as fictitious ought to be too absurd for the credulity of rationalism.
The name of the son born here has a plain meaning:
Eber — Beyond: the other side (as having crossed over)
Where does the name "Hebrew" come from — from Eber himself, or from Abram's crossing of the river? One writer argues for the crossing, and notes who used the word:
That Genesis 14:13 connects Abram with the crossing of the eastern river, rather than his distant ancestor Eber, seems clear; for this was the regular Gentile name given to God's people by those outside — not Israel but Hebrews, as we find from the earliest to later times.
The ages in this chapter are falling, and the thirty years counted here belong to that fall.
Set beside his father Noah and those before him, Shem's years show human life shrinking after the flood. Yet God let him live, before the end of his six hundred years, into the days not of Abram only but of Isaac. Peleg, the fifth in this series, did not reach half the limit of Shem's term. Nahor, the father of Terah, dwindled to a hundred and forty-five years.
Someone is still keeping the count:
God yet numbers the fleeting years of those who have forgotten Him.
The list does not end in triumph. It ends in a household that had turned to idols, and there God begins again.
Here again we find ten names prominent. The same number we have in Genesis 5. Both genealogies, in chapters 5 and 11, end with a man to whom God reveals Himself. With each one a new era in God's dealings begins — Noah and Abram. Notice the falling years of life… The line of Shem was declining, and some of the names show it. Terah (delay), the father of Abram, was an idolater… When the line of Shem had failed, God called Abram.
Nothing in the line itself earned that call:
But the promise itself expressed a grace in God which came before any personal claim whatever on Abram's part. In the chosen line there is plainly decay, and it does not stop… Elsewhere we read that they fell away from God, and that left every hope to the sovereign grace of God. The root of all the blessing that follows is here and only here.
The Septuagint is the old Greek version of the Old Testament. Its numbers here do not match the Hebrew:
There is again a difference between the Hebrew Scriptures and the Septuagint… So any chronology we work out for the time between Shem and Abraham is uncertain by as much as 650 years.
- Decay — the line of Shem is a record of shrinking years. Peleg does not reach half of Shem's span, and Terah ends up an idolater.
- Direction — Scripture still tracks one branch on purpose: Reu's line, not Joktan's, because it leads to Abram.
- Name — Eber, born in this verse, means "the other side, having crossed over." Hebrews was the name outsiders gave to God's people.
- Grace — when the line of Shem had failed, God called Abram. The promise rested on grace that came before any claim of his.
- Reach — the same line runs on into Matthew 1, which presents Christ as the descendant of Abraham.
And Shelah lived after he had begotten Eber four hundred and three years, and begot sons and daughters.
Chapter 11 turns from the nations of the world to one family, and starts counting its years. Why record Shelah's leftover 403 years, when Scripture tells us nothing else about him?
This is no filler list. It runs to one man, and to what God does next.
We are now given a genealogy which ends with Abram. The next chapter follows it with the mighty principle of grace, God's call… Here we have the special line. It is no more an "endless genealogy" than that of Adam to Noah in Genesis 5.
The verse names other sons and daughters but follows only one of them. There is a reason the record keeps narrowing.
We pass from the world at large to the chosen family. God wants to give us, not the history of nations, but the history of His purposes worked out through faith. So the story narrows quickly to those descendants of Shem, the son of Noah. They lead up to the line of faith, and Abraham is its great head.
Shelah's 403 years look enormous to us. Set beside the men before the flood, they are already short — and the drop keeps going.
Compared with his father Noah and those before him, Shem's years mark the growing drop in human lifespan after the flood. Yet God gave him, before his six hundred years were near their end, to live into the days not only of Abram but of Isaac. Peleg, the fifth in this series, did not reach half of Shem's total; and Nahor, the father of Terah, fell to a hundred and forty-five years. So in God's ordering of things, man was moving fast toward the lifespan that has been normal since the prayer of Moses (Psalm 90).
The years are counted, but the faith is not kept. Grant reads this list as the story of a family that forgot God.
The introduction to this history is the record of Abraham's descent from Shem. It is a record of failure. The whole story is not told here, for we know that his line, whose God was Jehovah, were worshipping other gods when the Lord called Abraham from the other side of the Euphrates (Joshua 24:2)… God still numbers the fleeting years of those who have forgotten Him.
Genesis 5 counts years the same way, but ends each entry with a phrase this chapter withholds. Commentators see purpose in the silence.
A sad refrain sounds all through the earlier list: "and he died." It never sounds in the later one, though in fact everyone named in chapter 11 did die… In the second half of chapter 11 we read of the line of blessing. We are told the succession down to Abram, the time when the promise was made, and the years each man lived; but it says nothing about death. Let anyone who wishes call either of these an accident; the believer can hardly avoid seeing a distinct purpose in each.
Shelah gets no story of his own — only a father, a son, and a number. Yet his name comes up again much later.
Son of Arphaxad and father of Eber. Genesis 10:24; Genesis 11:12-15; Luke 3:35. Called SHELAH in 1 Chronicles 1:18, 24, which agrees with the Hebrew in Genesis.
Shelah's son Eber gave his name to a whole people. It was outsiders who used that name.
"Hebrews" is the regular Gentile word. Abram is called "Abram the Hebrew"; see also Exodus 2:6-7, 11, 13, so chapter 1:16 and 19. There cannot be a doubt that it was the name used by strangers — "the children of Eber."
Genesis 5 and Genesis 11 are built the same way, and they end the same way.
Here again we find ten names standing out. We have the same number in Genesis 5. Both genealogies, in chapters 5 and 11, end with a man to whom God reveals Himself. With each one a new era in God's dealings begins — Noah and Abram… The line of Shem was going downhill; some of the names show this. Terah (which means delay), the father of Abram, was an idol worshipper… When the line of Shem had failed, God called Abram.
- The line. Genesis 11 drops the nations and follows one family: ten names from Shem down to Abram.
- The line shrinks. Shelah's 403 years are already short next to the men before the flood. Each generation after him drops further.
- The line decays. The fall is not only in years. This family ended up worshipping other gods — yet God still counted their years.
- The line is quiet about death. Unlike Genesis 5, this list never says "and he died." Commentators see a purpose in that silence: this is the line of blessing.
- The line arrives. When Shem's line had failed, God called Abram. Shelah's name appears again in Luke 3:35, in the family line of Jesus — the list was going somewhere all along.
And Eber lived thirty-four years, and begot Peleg.
Genesis 11:16 sits inside a short family list that carries the Bible's story from Noah's son Shem down to Abram. This one line looks like bare record-keeping: a father, an age, a son. Yet the son's name marks a turning point for the whole earth.
One writer insists the shape of this list — what it keeps and what it skips — is deliberate:
We do not question the divine wisdom of the record at all; but it is not man's way. God's design marks this list, as it marks the others. There is no repetition and nothing overlooked, and no clash of different documents or writers... And we can see the design in chapter 10. It was not to follow Arphaxad's line past his grandson, Eber's son Peleg. It was to state the striking fact that his name points to the division of the earth in his days.
Eber's name itself carries a sense of crossing:
Eber – Beyond: the other side (as having crossed over).
Eber matters because of where his family line ends up:
Last of all we come to Shem's descendants in verses 21-31. He is described in a striking way: father of all the sons of Eber, brother of Japheth the elder. Eber led the way through Peleg in due time to the father of the faithful.
That last phrase points to Abraham. Other nations later gave Eber's descendants a name of their own:
They were the direct descendants of Eber. God did not call them Hebrews; it was the other nations.
This son's name records an event, not a wish:
Son of Eber, a descendant of Shem. The name means "division," and it seems he was given this name because "in his days the earth was divided" (Genesis 10:25). The next chapter gives the account of the confusing of languages and the general scattering of the people.
Commentators differ on how this dividing relates to the scattering in the next chapter. One sees two events different in kind:
The next chapter gives us God's account of the scattering, its moral reason and its discipline. That scattering came earlier in time. But chapter 10 keeps to its own aim and gives the origin of the nations, each with its own language, without regard to dates... The division of the earth that came later, in the days of Peleg, seems to have been peaceful.
The lengths of life around Peleg fall away as the list runs on:
The genealogy itself may tell us something, however. In Peleg we see men taking possession of the earth more than ever. At the same time, their days of holding it were growing short fast — cut by half in this very Peleg's time. Reu lives 239 years; Serug, 230; Nahor, only 148; Terah, 205. But Haran dies before his father Terah. God still numbers the fleeting years of those who have forgotten Him.
The chosen line does not improve as it runs. It ends in the worship of other gods:
Here again we find ten names prominent. The same number we have in Genesis 5. Both lists, in chapters 5 and 11, end with a man to whom God reveals Himself: Noah and Abram. With each of them a new era in God's dealings begins. The line of Shem was going downhill... Terah (whose name means "delay"), the father of Abram, worshipped idols. The descendants of Shem worshipped idols. When the line of Shem had failed, God called Abram.
That failure is what makes the next chapter grace rather than reward:
Abram's descent from Shem shows him in the line of promise... But the promise itself expressed a grace in God. That grace came before any claim at all on Abram's part. In the chosen line itself we have only a scanty record of names and lengths of life. Even so, the decay is plain, and it never stops... The root of all the blessing that follows is here and only here.
Commentators differ on the dates these numbers give. The Hebrew text and the old Greek translation, the Septuagint, do not match:
We have only two things to say about these. The first is this: as noted before with the ages of the patriarchs before the flood, the Hebrew Scriptures and the Septuagint again disagree... So any chronology drawn from them for the time between Shem and Abraham is doubtful by as much as 650 years.
- Design. God shaped the list on purpose: it drops famous branches and keeps the one that leads to Abraham.
- Division. Peleg means "division." He was born in Eber's thirty-fourth year, and in his days the earth was divided.
- Decline. In Peleg's time human life is cut by half, and it keeps falling. God still counts the years of people who have forgotten Him.
- Degeneration. The chosen line ends in idol-worship; it produced no one who earned what came next.
- Grace. Right there God calls Abram, so the blessing rests on His promise, not on the family record.
And Eber lived after he had begotten Peleg four hundred and thirty years, and begot sons and daughters.
Genesis 11:17 is one line in a list of ten names running from Shem down to Abram. It counts a man's remaining years and notes that he had more children — so why record it at all?
This list is not filler between two stories. Its place points forward to what comes next in the book.
Here is a genealogy that ends with Abram. The next chapter follows it with the mighty principle of grace — God's call. That is the outward preparation. But Jehovah shines through this dealing and revelation. Here we have the special line. It is no more an "endless genealogy" than that of Adam to Noah in Genesis 5. We may notice ten links in the chain of both chapters.
Eber's name comes from a word for crossing over. That idea later marked out a whole people: the ones who had left home.
The root of the word is 'to pass over,' as when one passes over a river, or from one region to another. Abraham was told to leave his country and his relatives and go into the land of Canaan. The word Hebrew is not used until Abraham had left his country and was in the land of Canaan (Genesis 14:13). Once there, he was a 'sojourner' — living in tents in a country not his own (Hebrews 11:9). So the name fitted him. The people of the land could come to Abraham the 'sojourner' and tell him that Lot had been taken prisoner.
Commentators differ. One traces the name not to Eber but to Abram's own river crossing:
Genesis 14:13 seems clearly to link Abram with the crossing of the eastern river, not with his distant ancestor Eber. Outsiders regularly used this name for God's people — not Israel but Hebrews — from the earliest times to later ones.
Eber's span after Peleg's birth is long by any measure we know. But read down the list and the numbers fall away fast — including Peleg's, the son named in this very verse.
Compared with his father Noah and those before him, Shem's years show human life shrinking after the flood. Yet he was given to live on, before the end of his six hundred years, into the days not of Abram only but of Isaac. Peleg, fifth in this line, did not reach half of Shem's total. Nahor, the father of Terah, dropped to a hundred and forty-five years. So in God's ordering of things, man was moving fast toward the lifespan that has been normal since the prayer of Moses (Psalm 90).
The drop is not random. Darby ties it to one event: the dividing of the earth in Peleg's days.
In Shem God's history begins. He is Jehovah, the God of Shem. We have dates and epochs, for after all God governs, and the world must follow: man belongs to God. Others besides those named here surely had their years cut short; with these names we know when. Then the earth was divided — God, after all, was the one who dealt it out — and men's years lost half of what they had been. The same had already happened at once after the flood.
Genesis 5 repeats the same three words after almost every name. Genesis 11 counts years just as closely, but never says them — not for Eber, not for anyone on the list.
The sad chime rings all through the earlier list: "and he died." Not once does it sound in the later one, though in fact everyone named in chapter 11 did die. Chapter 5 had one striking exception, Enoch, who "walked with God, and he was not, for God took him." In the second half of chapter 11 we read of the line of blessing. It gives each generation down to Abram, the time when the promise was made, and the years lived — but it never mentions death.
The numbers tell an honest story about the family that carried the promise. They also show a God who keeps counting.
The introduction to this history is the record of Abraham's descent from Shem. It is a record of failure, and the whole story is not told here. We know that his line — the line whose God was Jehovah — were worshipping other gods when the Lord called Abraham from the other side of the Euphrates (Joshua 24:2)... God still numbers the fleeting years of those who have forgotten Him.
- Counted — the ten names are not padding; God dates and governs history, and here "we know when" the change came.
- Crossing — Eber's name means passing over; the same word later marked Abraham as a stranger living in tents.
- Shrinking — lifespans halve in Peleg's day and keep falling toward the span we know now.
- Silent about death — unlike Genesis 5, this list never says "and he died"; it is the line of blessing.
- Grace — the record is one of failure and forgetting, and it ends exactly where God's call to Abram begins.
And Peleg lived thirty years, and begot Reu.
Genesis 11:18 sits inside a long list of fathers and sons. The list runs from Shem down to Abram, and it can look like plain record-keeping. Yet the names, the ages, and even what the list leaves out all carry weight — including a lifespan that has collapsed to a fraction of what it once was.
These verses are not a stray archive dropped into the story. They form a chain with a destination.
Here we are given a genealogy that ends with Abram. The next chapter follows it with the mighty principle of grace — God's call. That prepares the way outwardly. But Jehovah shines through this dealing and revelation. Here we have the special line. It is no more an "endless genealogy" than the line from Adam to Noah in Genesis 5. We can count ten links in the chain in both chapters.
An earlier chapter followed Joktan's family and stopped with his sons. Here the record turns to Reu instead, and the choice is not random.
From verse 10 the record traces the line of Shem further than Genesis 10:21-31 does. That passage goes as far as Joktan the son of Peleg and stops with his thirteen sons. The genealogy of Genesis 11 goes on instead with Reu the son of Peleg, and passes over Joktan and his sons. The reason is clear. Reu's line leads to Nahor, Terah and Abram, and God had purposed Abram to be the father of a chosen race whom He would separate from the rest of the nations… God has been careful to trace that line down through the ages. Matthew 1 begins the New Testament by showing that Christ the Messiah of Israel is the official descendant of Abraham… Luke 3:23-38 gives the actual line, traced backward from the virgin Mary through Abraham to Adam.
Peleg's name means "division," and his recorded years mark a turning point you can measure.
Eber's second son was named Joktan, which means "small." He stands in contrast to Peleg, whose name, "division," marked an era: the more peaceful dividing of the earth, after God's judgment had forced mankind to scatter… This much is certain — human life then sank by half. You can see it in the recorded years of Peleg (Genesis 11:18-19) and of those who followed him, shrinking by degrees to its ordinary range.
The same writer traces how steep the drop was across a few generations.
Peleg, the fifth in this series, did not reach half the length of Shem's life; and Nahor, the father of Terah, came down to a hundred and forty-five years. So in God's providential ordering, man was moving by rapid steps toward the ordinary span of years we have had since the prayer of Moses (Psalm 90). Moses himself was an exception, as a few have been even in modern times.
The shrinking numbers are not decline for its own sake. One writer ties the long lives of the earliest generations to a time when God's word was not yet written.
God prolonged man's life at that time, and that took the place of a written word; we see God's wisdom in it. At the flood, life dropped by half; and by half again, when the earth was divided and shared out among the peoples. It would not do, in the way the world is now, for men to live 900 years.
Genesis 5 ends each life with a funeral note. This list never does — though every man in it died.
A sad refrain sounds all through the earlier one: "and he died." It never sounds once in the later one, though in fact everyone named in chapter 11 did die… In the second half of chapter 11 we read of the line of blessing. We are told of each succession down to Abram, the time when the promise was made, and the years each one lived; but the record says nothing of death. Anyone may call either of these an accident; the believer can hardly avoid seeing a clear purpose in each.
This line was not thriving; it was running down. The call of Abram comes at the point of failure.
Notice the decreasing years of life. Shem was 600 years old, the grandfather of Abram only 148. The line of Shem was degenerating; some of the names show it. Terah (delay), the father of Abram, was an idolater. The descendants of Shem worshipped idols (Joshua 24:2). When the line of Shem had failed God called Abram.
- Chain. Ten links run from Shem to Abram; this is the special line, not filler between stories.
- Chosen. Reu is followed and Joktan dropped, because Reu's line reaches Abram — and, through him, the Messiah traced in Matthew 1 and Luke 3.
- Halved. Peleg's name marks the dividing of the earth, and with it human life sank by half again; he did not reach half of Shem's years.
- Wise. Long life once served in place of a written Bible; as the world changed, God shortened man's span by steps toward the ordinary lifespan we have had since the prayer of Moses (Psalm 90).
- Silent. Genesis 5 tolls "and he died" over every name; this line of blessing records births and years but never death.
And Peleg lived after he had begotten Reu two hundred and nine years, and begot sons and daughters.
Genesis 11:19 gives one line in the chain of names from Shem down to Abram. The numbers look dry, yet commentators find in them a world dividing into nations, lives growing shorter, and God preserving the line that leads to Abram.
Peleg's name is a marker. It ties his lifetime to a turning point for the whole earth, and to a drop in how long people lived.
Peleg's name, "division," marked an era — the more peaceful dividing of the earth, after God's judgment made the scattering of mankind necessary… And how can an event so ordinary match the large words used — "in his days the earth was divided"? … This much is certain: human life then sank by half. You can see it in the recorded years of Peleg (Gen. 11:18-19) and of those who followed, decreasing by stages to its ordinary range.
Set beside the men before him, Peleg's total is small. And the decline does not stop with him.
Compared with his father Noah and those before him, Shem's years mark the growing decrease of human age after the flood. Yet God granted him, before the end of his 600 years, to live into the days not only of Abram but of Isaac. Peleg, the fifth in this series, did not reach half the limit of Shem's term. Nahor, the father of Terah, dwindled to 145 years. So in God's ordering of things, man was coming by quick steps to the lifespan that has been ordinary since the prayer of Moses (Ps. 90).
Peleg's total comes to 239 years — the 209 of this verse added to his first 30. One writer sets that beside his father Eber's: Eber lived 464 years, and Peleg only 239 — "at that moment man's life went down to just half at one bound" (J. N. Darby).
Genesis 11 follows a different pattern from the earlier genealogy in Genesis 5. This list gives the years lived and the children born, and stops there.
The earlier list keeps up a sad refrain: "and he died." That note never sounds in the later one, though in fact all the men named in chapter 11 did die… The second half of chapter 11 gives us the line of blessing. It names each succession down to Abram, the point when God gave the promise, and the years each man lived. But it says nothing of death. Anyone may call either of these an accident if he wishes. The believer can scarcely avoid seeing a clear purpose in each.
The genealogy tracks two things at once: how far men spread, and how little time they had.
The genealogy itself may still tell us something. In Peleg we see men taking possession of the earth more than ever. At the same time their hold on it was shortening fast — by half, in this very Peleg's time (Gen. 10:25). Reu lives 239 years; Serug, 230; Nahor, only 148; Terah, again, 205; but Haran dies before his father Terah. God still numbers the fleeting years of those who have forgotten Him.
Peleg's 209 years are a link, not a destination. The whole list runs toward a fresh beginning.
Here again we find ten names prominent. We have the same number in Genesis 5. Both genealogies, in chapters 5 and 11, end with a man to whom God reveals Himself, and with each a new dispensation begins — Noah and Abram. Notice the decreasing years of life. Shem was 600 years old; the grandfather of Abram only 148. The line of Shem was degenerating; some of the names show it. Terah, the father of Abram, was an idol-worshipper — his name means "delay." Shem's descendants worshipped idols (Joshua 24:2). When the line of Shem had failed, God called Abram.
- Division. Peleg's name marks the time when the earth divided among the nations. His shorter life dates the change.
- Decline. Shem lived 600 years. By Peleg the total is halved, and it keeps falling to the lifespan Moses laments in Psalm 90.
- Descendants. The verse records life passed on — Reu, then other sons and daughters. The chain toward Abram never breaks.
- Design. Genesis 5 repeats "and he died." This list never says it. Commentators see purpose in that silence: it traces the line of blessing.
- Destination. Shem's line slides into idol worship and fails. Right there God steps in and calls Abram.
And Reu lived thirty-two years, and begot Serug.
One line of a chain: Reu reaches thirty-two, fathers a son named Serug, and the record moves on. Yet these bare names bridge the scattered nations of Babel and the call of Abram, and commentators ask why God dates a family nobody remembers.
After chapters about the whole human race, the account tightens to a single family. One writer explains why:
We move from the world as a whole to the chosen family. God is not interested in giving us the history of nations. He gives us the history of His purposes, worked out through faith. So the story quickly narrows to those descendants of Shem, the son of Noah. They are the forerunners of the line of faith, and Abraham is its great head.
Read the ages down the list and a pattern appears. Reu and Serug sit in the middle of a steady slide:
Still, the genealogy itself may tell us something. In Peleg's day men were taking hold of the earth more than ever, while the time they held it was shrinking fast — cut in half in Peleg's own lifetime. Reu lives 239 years. Serug lives 230. Nahor lives only 148. Terah lives 205. But Haran dies before his father Terah. God still numbers the fleeting years of those who have forgotten Him.
Other families were multiplying at the same time, but Scripture gives no dates for them:
We also note that the dates always stay inside the chosen line. God counts the years only for these, and leaves the others unrecorded. The same holds in Matthew 1. In the fourteen generations between David and the captivity, the record leaves out kings who turned away to Baal. God's thoughts and ways in these matters are not what ours would naturally be.
Lists like this are not leftover paperwork swept into the Bible. They carry a purpose:
Yet these lists give such exact information about the earliest ages — before the Flood and after it, without a gap — that no family line from that period outside Scripture can compare with them. And they do more than give reliable information about every link in the chain. In each case a special design of God's governs them.
The chain does not end well. Ten names carry it forward, and by the last of them the line has failed:
Here again ten names stand out. We find the same number in Genesis 5. Both lists, in chapters 5 and 11, end with a man God reveals Himself to, and with each one a new age begins — Noah and Abram… The line of Shem was degenerating, and some of the names show it. Terah (which means delay), the father of Abram, worshipped idols. The descendants of Shem worshipped idols (Joshua 24:2). When the line of Shem had failed, God called Abram.
That failure is why what follows can only be about grace:
Abram's descent from Shem shows him in the line of promise… But the promise itself expressed a grace in God that came before any claim of Abram's own. In the chosen line we have only a thin record of names and lengths of life. Even so, it is plain that there is decay, and that it never stops… elsewhere we read that they fell away from God, which left every hope resting on His sovereign grace. The root of all the blessing that follows is here and only here.
Serug does nothing memorable in Genesis. Yet his name surfaces centuries later in Luke's family record of Jesus:
Son of Reu, a son of Peleg. Genesis 11:20-23; 1 Chronicles 1:26. He is called SARUCH, son of Ragau, in Luke 3:35.
- Narrowed — the account leaves the nations behind and follows one family. God is telling the story of His purposes, not of world powers.
- Shortened — Reu's 239 years and Serug's 230 mark a steady decline in human life. God still counts the years of people who have forgotten Him.
- Counted — God dates only the chosen line and leaves the rest unrecorded. He even drops unworthy kings from a genealogy.
- Failed — the names show decay, and Shem's descendants ended up worshipping idols. The line had run out before God called Abram.
- Reached — Serug reappears as Saruch in Luke's record of Jesus. This one obscure verse belongs to the line of promise, and its root is grace alone.
And Reu lived after he had begotten Serug two hundred and seven years, and begot sons and daughters.
Genesis 11:21 is one line in a list that runs from Shem down to Abraham. It records the years Reu lived on after his son Serug was born. A verse like this can look like filler. Yet commentators read it as a deliberate record: a line God is tracking, a lifespan God is counting, and a family God is about to call.
Genesis 10 had already traced Shem's descendants, but it turned aside at Peleg's brother Joktan. Chapter 11 takes the other branch, and one writer explains the choice:
From verse 10 the record traces the line of Shem further than Genesis 10:21-31 does. That earlier list goes as far as Joktan the son of Peleg and stops with his thirteen sons. The genealogy of Genesis 11 goes on instead with Reu the son of Peleg, passing over Joktan and his sons. The reason is clear. Reu's line leads on to Nahor, Terah and Abram, and God had purposed that Abram would be the father of a chosen race whom He would separate from the rest of the nations.
Reu appears here because of where his line is going, not because of anything recorded about him.
The number in this verse belongs to a pattern. After the flood men held more of the earth, and held it for less time:
The genealogy itself may still tell us something. In Peleg we see men taking possession of the earth more than ever, while the days they held it were shortening fast — cut by half in Peleg's own time (Genesis 10:25). Reu lives 239 years; Serug, 230; Nahor, only 148; Terah, 205 again; but Haran dies before his father Terah. God still numbers the fleeting years of those who have forgotten Him.
The same decline shows at the top of the list. Shem's own long life reached down into far later generations:
Compared with his father Noah and those before him, Shem's years show how human life kept shrinking after the flood. Yet he was given, before he came near the end of his six hundred years, to live on into the days not only of Abram but of Isaac.
Genesis 5 has a refrain that Genesis 11 drops. There, every entry ends with a death. Here the years are counted and the sentence simply stops:
A sad refrain sounds all through the earlier list: "and he died." Not once does it sound in the later one, though in fact everyone named in chapter 11 did die... The second half of chapter 11 gives us the line of blessing. It names each generation down to Abram, the time when God made the promise, and the years each man lived; but it says nothing of death. Let anyone who wishes call either of these an accident. The believer can hardly avoid seeing a clear purpose in each.
Reu had other sons and daughters, and the record names none of them. Commentators see one principle at work in these genealogies:
Divine purpose is the key... It explains why the general genealogy leaves out every detail outside the direct line of the chosen people — the line, above all, of the Messiah, God's salvation, a light for revelation to the Gentiles, and the glory of His people Israel. The rest of their children, however many or however great in human eyes, are simply folded into the "sons and daughters" they fathered.
Something worse than shrinking years runs through this family, and the list ends where God steps in:
Both genealogies, in chapters 5 and 11, end with a man to whom God reveals Himself, and with each of them a new era in God's dealings begins — Noah and Abram. Notice the decreasing years of life. Shem was 600 years old, the grandfather of Abram only 148. The line of Shem was degenerating, and some of the names show it. Terah (whose name means delay), the father of Abram, was an idolater. The descendants of Shem worshipped idols (Joshua 24:2). When the line of Shem had failed God called Abram.
Their decline left one hope only:
No doubt the years of man's life were shortening everywhere, but in this line there was at least no exception to the decline. Elsewhere we read that these men turned away from God too, so that every possible hope was left to the sovereign grace of God. The root of all the blessing following is here and only here.
- Chosen — the record follows Reu and drops Joktan, because this line runs on to Abram. God would separate his family from the nations.
- Counted — 239 years for Reu, 230 for Serug, 148 for Nahor. Life keeps shrinking, yet God still numbers the fleeting years of people who have forgotten Him.
- Quiet — the refrain "and he died" from Genesis 5 never sounds here, though all these men died. This is the line of blessing.
- Merged — one phrase covers Reu's other children. The record carries the chosen line; it does not list every family.
- Called — the list ends in shortened lives and idol worship. So when God calls Abram, the blessing rests on His grace alone.
And Serug lived thirty years, and begot Nahor.
Genesis 11:22 is one line in a chain of names running from Shem down to Abram. Why did God record such a list at all, and what do its shrinking numbers say?
The Nahor born in this verse is Abraham's grandfather. The New Testament spells his name a little differently.
Son of Serug, and grandfather of Abraham. Genesis 11:22-25; 1 Chronicles 1:26. Called NACHOR in Luke 3:34.
This list of names has a destination. One writer counts its links against the earlier list in Genesis 5.
We now have a genealogy which ends with Abram. The next chapter follows it with the mighty principle of grace: God's call. That prepares the way outwardly. But Jehovah shines through this dealing and revelation. Here we have the special line. It is no more an "endless genealogy" than that of Adam to Noah in Genesis 5. We may notice ten links in the chain of both chapters.
Serug and Nahor belong to the family that carries God's promise. But that family's record is not one of improvement.
Abram's descent from Shem shows him in the line of promise. Jehovah revealed Himself to Shem, and that revelation was to be fulfilled above all in the Seed of Abram, whose day Abram's own faith rejoiced to see. But the promise itself expressed a grace in God that came before any claim of Abram's own. In the chosen line itself we have only a thin record of names and lifespans. Even so, the decay is plain, and it never stops. No doubt lifespans were shortening everywhere, but this line was no exception. And elsewhere we read that these men turned away from God, which left every hope resting on His sovereign grace.
Serug will live 230 years; his son Nahor only 148. One writer traces that slide back to Peleg, an earlier name in the same list, and ends with the One who keeps the count.
The genealogy itself may tell us something. In Peleg's day men were taking more of the earth for themselves than ever, while the days of their hold on it were shortening fast — cut by half in Peleg's own time (Genesis 10:25). Reu lives 239 years. Serug lives 230. Nahor, only 148. Terah, again, 205. But Haran dies before his father Terah. God yet numbers the fleeting years of those who have forgotten Him.
These numbers are not filler. They mark time in a history that begins with Shem.
In Shem God's history begins. He is Jehovah, the God of Shem. We have dates and epochs, for after all God governs, and the world must follow: man belongs to God.
Shem to Abram takes the same number of steps as Adam to Noah. One writer finds meaning in that number.
Ten generations ran their course from Shem to Abram. In Scripture this number stands for testing, as we have already seen. Ten generations, from Adam to Noah, were enough to prove that "every intention of the thoughts of his heart was only evil continually." Then God cleared the earth by the flood in righteous anger.
Two more generations after Nahor comes Terah, Abraham's father. One writer states plainly what Shem's line had become by then.
The line of Shem was degenerating, and some of the names show it. Terah (delay), the father of Abram, was an idolater. The descendants of Shem worshipped idols (Joshua 24:2). When the line of Shem had failed God called Abram.
So the blessing had to come from outside this family.
Even the line of Shem, the father and kindred of Abraham, were idolaters. Grace gives, not finds, what is good.
- Placed — The verse sits in Shem's line — ten links that end at Abram and open the way for God's call.
- Counted — The ages are not decoration. They mark dates in a history God governs, and He counts the years even of those who have forgotten Him.
- Declining — Serug's 230 years fall to Nahor's 148. The decay never stops, and it runs through the line that carries the promise.
- Tested — Ten generations run from Shem to Abram, as ten ran from Adam to Noah. In Scripture ten is the number of testing.
- Called — Shem's line ended in idolatry. So the blessing had to start elsewhere: grace gives what is good; it does not find it.
And Serug lived after he had begotten Nahor two hundred years, and begot sons and daughters.
Genesis 11:23 sits inside a bare list: ten names, each with its years, running from Shem down to Abram. Serug gets one line — he fathered Nahor, lived two hundred years more, and had other children — and the question is why God bothered to write it down at all.
Serug is not a famous man. The records place him simply, and they carry his name forward into the New Testament:
Son of Reu, a son of Peleg. Gen. 11:20-23; 1 Chr. 1:26. He is called Saruch, son of Ragau, in Luke 3:35.
That link is the reason the list exists. Serug's other sons and daughters go unnamed here, and so do whole branches of the family. An earlier chapter followed one of those branches and stopped there; this one keeps going:
This genealogy of Genesis 11 continues with Reu the son of Peleg, passing over Joktan and his sons. The reason is clear. Reu's line leads on to Nahor, Terah and Abram, and God had purposed that Abram would be the father of a chosen race whom He would separate from the rest of the nations… God has been careful to trace that line down through the ages. Matthew 1 begins the New Testament by showing that Christ the Messiah of Israel is the official descendant of Abraham.
Serug's two hundred years look long to us. Set beside his ancestors, they are part of a steady decline:
Reu lives 239 years; Serug, 230; Nahor, only 148; Terah, again, 205; but Haran dies before his father Terah. God still counts the passing years of those who have forgotten Him.
The drop is heading somewhere. One writer traces it from Shem down to the lifespan we now call normal:
Compared with his father Noah and those before him, Shem's years mark the shrinking of human life after the flood… Peleg, the fifth in this series, did not reach half the length of Shem's life; and Nahor, the father of Terah, dropped to 145 years. So in God's ordering of things, man was coming by rapid steps to the lifespan that has been normal since the prayer of Moses (Psalm 90).
(Kelly gives Nahor 145 years; other writers read 148.)
Genesis 5 has the same shape as this list — name, years, children — but it adds three words to every entry. Genesis 11 leaves them out:
The sad refrain sounds again and again in the earlier list: "and he died." It is never heard in the later one, even though everyone named in chapter 11 did in fact die… In the second half of chapter 11 we read of the line of blessing. We are told of each generation down to Abram, the time when the promise was given, and the years each man lived; but it says nothing about death.
The two lists match in length as well, and each one ends the same way:
Here again we find ten names prominent. We have the same number in Genesis 5. Both genealogies, in chapters 5 and 11, end with a man to whom God reveals Himself, and with each of them a new era begins — Noah and Abram.
The line that God is protecting is not a line of good men. By the end of it, the family had turned to idols:
The line of Shem was degenerating; some of the names show this. Terah (his name means delay), the father of Abram, was an idol worshipper. The descendants of Shem worshipped idols (Joshua 24:2). When the line of Shem had failed, God called Abram.
That failure is the backdrop to what comes next. The promise given to Abram rests on nothing in Abram:
But the promise itself expressed a grace in God that came before any claim Abram could make. In the chosen line itself we have only a thin record of names and lengths of life. Even so, it is plain that there is decay, and that it never stops… elsewhere we read that they turned away from God, which left all hope resting on the sovereign grace of God. The root of all the blessing that follows is here and only here.
- Counted — Serug's two hundred extra years are on record because God "still counts the passing years of those who have forgotten Him."
- Shrinking — each life is shorter than the last, moving the race step by step toward the lifespan of Psalm 90.
- Unbroken — God follows Reu's branch rather than Joktan's, because this is the line that reaches Abram.
- Failing — the family that carried the promise ended up worshipping idols, so every hope rested on God's grace. Then God called Abram.
- Living — unlike Genesis 5, this list never says "and he died"; it is the line of blessing, and it runs on to Christ.
And Nahor lived twenty-nine years, and begot Terah.
Genesis 11:24 is one line in a family list that runs from the flood down to Abram. Why record a single birth at all? The answer lies in where the list is heading, and in what its shrinking numbers say about mankind after the flood.
Genesis marks off its sections by families. The list Nahor belongs to has a fixed start and a fixed finish:
Verse 10 starts the fifth paragraph or division of the book; Genesis 10 began the generations of the sons of Noah. We now come to the generations of Shem, one of the shortest of these divisions. It extends only to the end of verse 26, and gives us names and ages of the patriarchs descended from Shem up to the time of Abraham.
Nahor is one step on that short road down to Abraham.
The ages in this list keep falling. One writer traces the decline back to Shem himself:
Compared with his father Noah and those before him, Shem's years mark the growing decline in the length of human life after the flood. … So in God's ordering of things man was coming by rapid steps to an ordinary span of years. That span has been the usual one ever since the prayer of Moses (Psalm 90).
Moses named that span: "The years of our life are seventy, or even by reason of strength eighty" (Psalm 90:10). Nahor's generation is already heading there.
The falling ages are only half of what this list records:
Here again we find ten names prominent. The same number we have in Genesis 5. Both family lists, in chapters 5 and 11, end with a man to whom God reveals Himself, and with each one a new era begins — Noah and Abram. Notice the decreasing years of life. Shem was 600 years old, the grandfather of Abram only 148. The line of Shem was going downhill, and some of the names show this. Terah (delay), the father of Abram, was an idolater. The descendants of Shem worshipped idols (Joshua 24:2). When the line of Shem had failed God called Abram.
The son born in our verse grew up to serve other gods, and his name means delay.
The list traces the line God had chosen, and exposes what that line had become:
Abram's descent from Shem shows him in the line of promise. … But the promise itself expressed a grace in God. That grace came before any personal claim whatever on Abram's part. In the chosen line itself we have only a scanty record of names and lengths of life. Even so, it is plain that there is decay, and that the decay is continuous. … Elsewhere we read that they turned away from God, which left all possibility of hope to His sovereign grace. The root of all the blessing that follows is here and only here.
While these generations came and went, one man who had lived through the flood was still alive to speak:
One remarkable fact in Genesis 11:10-26 is the long life of Shem. He outlived many generations of his own descendants. That long life in turn shows God's gracious purpose in giving it. He had seen the flood with his own eyes, and he was an honoured saint of God (Genesis 9:26). He lived to bear witness to many of the things he had seen and heard himself. How Shem's heart must have grieved! Not only the sons of Ham and Japheth, but his own children, sank into gross idolatry (Joshua 24:2). He was living at the time when God called Abram.
Nahor and Terah lived while that witness was still speaking.
The falling years and the spread of idolatry set up the one move God makes next:
Idolatry had spread among the descendants of Shem. It had infected even Terah, if not Abram himself. To preserve a testimony to Himself God called Abram right out of the evil, to become a pilgrim and stranger in the earth. Mankind was already divided into nations under God's government. Now it was to see a division of another kind — the separation of a godly seed from the mass of the ungodly. This was a division produced by divine grace.
- The line — Genesis 11:10-26 is one short section, "the generations of Shem." It runs from the flood down to Abram, and Nahor's twenty-nine years are one step on that road.
- The decline — Shem lived 600 years, Nahor only 148. The figures drop fast toward the seventy or eighty years Moses later named.
- The decay — the fall is not just in years. Terah, the son born here, grew up to worship idols, and his name means delay.
- The witness — Shem outlived generations of his own descendants. He had seen the flood himself, he grieved over his family's idolatry, and he was still living when God called Abram.
- The grace — the chosen line failed, so hope rested on God's grace alone. God called Abram out of the evil and made a new division: not by borders, but by grace.
And Nahor lived after he had begotten Terah a hundred and nineteen years, and begot sons and daughters.
This verse is one line in the family list that runs from Shem down to Abram. It gives Nahor's remaining 119 years and his other children, and it raises two questions: why does God count these years at all, and why is human life shrinking as the list moves on?
Chapter 10 traced Shem's family outward into nations. This second list narrows, and it narrows toward one man.
From verse 10 the record traces Shem's line further than Genesis 10:21-31 does. That earlier list goes as far as Joktan the son of Peleg, and stops with his thirteen sons. This list in Genesis 11 goes on with Reu the son of Peleg instead, and passes over Joktan and his sons. The reason is clear. Reu's line leads to Nahor, Terah and Abram. God had purposed that Abram would be the father of a chosen race, whom He would separate from the other nations… God has been careful to trace that line down through the ages.
Nahor's other sons and daughters are real, but unnamed. The record keeps only the thread it needs.
Nahor's 119 years belong to a longer trend. Life spans keep falling after the flood, and they are heading toward the length we now call normal.
Compared with his father Noah and those before him, Shem's years show human life growing shorter after the flood. Yet before he came near the end of his six hundred years, he lived on into the days not only of Abram but of Isaac… So in God's providential arrangements man was moving by quick steps toward the lifespan that has been normal ever since the prayer of Moses (Psalm 90). Moses himself was an exception, and a few others have been exceptions even in modern times.
The falling numbers go together with what the family became. Nahor's own son Terah is where that drift gets a name.
Here again ten names stand out. Genesis 5 has the same number. Both lists, in chapters 5 and 11, end with a man to whom God reveals Himself, and with each of them a new era begins — Noah and Abram. Notice the falling years of life. Shem was 600 years old, the grandfather of Abram only 148. The line of Shem was declining, and some of the names show it. Terah (delay), the father of Abram, was an idolater. The descendants of Shem worshipped idols (Joshua 24:2). When the line of Shem had failed, God called Abram.
That grandfather is the Nahor of our verse: 148 years in all, and 119 of them counted here. His son was named Terah, which means delay — and he worshipped idols.
The list is not flattering. It counts out a family that was drifting from God, name by name and year by year.
The family record itself may tell us something. In Peleg's day men were taking possession of the earth more than ever. At the same time their hold on it was growing shorter — cut in half in this very Peleg's time (Gen. 10:25). Reu lives 239 years; Serug, 230; Nahor, only 148; Terah, again, 205; but Haran dies before his father Terah.
after_note: DELETE God still numbers the fleeting years of those who have forgotten Him.
Genesis 5 repeats the same phrase after every name. Genesis 11 never uses it — not for Nahor, and not in our verse.
The sad chime sounds all through the earlier list: "and he died." It never sounds once in the later one, though in fact everyone named in chapter 11 did die… The second half of chapter 11 gives us the line of blessing. It names each generation down to Abram, the time when the promise came, and the years that they lived. But it says nothing about death. Anyone may call either of these an accident if they wish. The believer can hardly avoid seeing a clear purpose in each, and that purpose may well stir serious but happy thoughts.
Two names after Nahor, the list stops being a list and becomes a story. What ends the decline is not a better generation but a call.
The Spirit of God, however, in the sovereignty of grace, visits a son of Terah, who stood eight generations away from Shem. The call of the God of glory came to Abram. It separated him from those corruptions, and from his country, his relatives and his father's house, to shape him into a new piece of workmanship for the Lord. (Acts 7:2)
- Line. Genesis 11 narrows Shem's family on purpose. It passes over branches like Joktan's, because this thread runs to Nahor, Terah and Abram — the chosen race God intended.
- Decline. The falling ages carry a message. Shem at 600, Nahor at 148 — a family shrinking in years while sliding into idol worship.
- Record. God keeps counting the years of people who had forgotten Him. He wrote down Nahor's 119 remaining years Himself.
- Silence. Unlike Genesis 5, this list never says "and he died" — It is the line of blessing, and that silence has a purpose.
- Grace. The line does not recover itself. Eight generations from Shem, the God of glory calls one man out. That call, not the family line, is where blessing begins.
And Terah lived seventy years, and begot Abram, Nahor, and Haran.
The closing line of Shem's family record names one father and three sons. Two questions sit inside it: why is Abram named first when the chapter's numbers say he was not the eldest, and what was his family like?
Genesis moves in blocks, each headed by a line of "generations." This verse ends one block and opens the way for another.
In Genesis 10 we have "the generations of the sons of Noah," but there side by side rather than in succession... The moral cause is explained in Genesis 11:1-9; after which we find "the generations of Shem" in verses 10-26, and those "of Terah" to complete the picture, and make way for Abram, the man of God's choice, call, and promise. Here we have, unlike any before, at least two genealogies side by side: the nations separate from one another, and the man separated to God with blessing and promise in him, and his seed natural or spiritual.
The same shape appears in the earlier list of chapter 5, and the comparison is instructive.
Here again we find ten names prominent. The same number we have in Genesis 5. Both genealogies in chapters 5 and 11 end with a man to whom God reveals Himself, and with each a new era begins — Noah and Abram. Notice the decreasing years of life. Shem was 600 years old, the grandfather of Abram only 148. The line of Shem was in decline; some of the names show this.
Read straight through, the verse seems to make Abram the firstborn of a seventy-year-old father. Later verses will not allow it.
Verse 26 might lead us to assume that Abram was Terah's eldest son, born when his father was 70 years old. But the chapter states plainly that Terah died in Haran aged 205 years. Verse 4 of the next chapter is just as plain: Terah was dead (see Acts 7:4) when Abram left Haran, and Abram was 75, not 135 as we should have expected. So the conclusion appears to be this. Terah's family started when he was 70, and Abram was not born till he was 130. He is mentioned first in verse 26 because Terah's other children were of small importance compared with him. These things should teach us that God cares about moral and spiritual matters rather than chronological ones.
Commentators differ on which son was the eldest. One reading of the family details settles it, and explains several later relationships.
Haran was really the eldest; Nahor, the second son of Terah, married Haran's daughter Milcah, his own niece; and Abram was the youngest of the three. Lot was Haran's son, as Sarai (or Iscah) was his daughter... The eldest and the youngest sons of Terah were sixty years apart, and they had different mothers, as Abram shows. That difference made this possible and explains the matter.
This is not a slip in the record but a way of writing that Scripture uses more than once.
This verse is a striking example of the way Scripture writes, which men are apt to mistake. It says Terah lived seventy years and had Abram, Nahor, and Haran. It said the same of Noah: he was five hundred years old, and Noah had Shem, Ham, and Japheth. Scripture gave the father's age before naming any of the sons. In neither case did the elder son come first; he came last. Other Scriptures prove this beyond just doubt. In both cases the first place marks the special and spiritual honour God put on each.
Precedence here is a gift, not a birthright.
Abram then, though the youngest son, took precedence in God's mind and word because of the grace God showed him. "The last was made first" — a principle Scripture applies often... In him God began a new headship. Fallen Adam was head of all mankind as they are; Abram is head of the faithful. Scripture says of him: "he believed God, and it was counted to him for righteousness."
Terah's household was not a godly one.
This is the first notice the Bible gives of idolatry. It comes not when idolatry began, but when it had corrupted the immediate ancestor of Abraham. Before the flood the world was full of open evil, but we never hear of people serving other gods. And after the flood we find no hint of it, until Scripture speaks this way of the fathers in Terah's day.
Nothing in this family explains what came next. God moved first.
It was in sovereign grace that God thus appeared. Even the line of Shem, the father and kindred of Abraham, were idolaters. Grace gives, not finds, what is good. And the God of glory did more than appear. He appeared to Abraham while he was in Mesopotamia — at the farthest point of his distance from "the land," and among idolaters.
The result was a new division in the world.
To preserve a testimony to Himself, God called Abram right out of the evil, to become a pilgrim and a stranger in the earth. Under God's government mankind was already divided into nations. Now it would see a division of another kind: a godly seed separated from the mass of the ungodly. This was a division produced by divine grace.
- Decline — Shem's line runs down through shrinking lifespans to Terah. The list ends with a family that served other gods.
- Grace — God found nothing good in that house. Grace gives what it does not find, and it reached Abram at his farthest distance from the land.
- Honour — The dates show Abram was not the eldest. He stands first because of the honour God put on him: the last was made first.
- Separation — Out of that idolatrous household God begins a new line of the faithful. Grace alone produced this division in mankind.
And these are the generations of Terah Terah begot Abram, Nahor, and Haran; and Haran begot Lot.
This verse opens the family record of Terah, a man of Ur with three sons and one grandson. It reads like a bare list of names, yet commentators see the start of something new here: God acting by the call of one man.
Genesis is built out of "generations" sections. This one is among the longest.
The generations of Terah begin with verse 27, and do not end until we reach the death of Abraham in Genesis 25. As to Terah himself, we learn at the end of our chapter that Ur of the Chaldees was his home. Late in his life he left Ur to go to the land of Canaan, but stopped at Haran on his way.
The verse names Abram first. That is not the order of their births.
The order of the three sons of Terah reverses that of nature. Abram was in no sense the head of the family after the flesh, not even when his brother Haran died. Comparing the dates and facts makes it clear that Abram was the youngest of all. Haran was born when Terah was seventy; Abram not until Terah was one hundred and thirty. His foremost place therefore was due to the choice of God.
Stories grew up later that made Abram look great. Kelly sets them aside and keeps to what Scripture says about Terah and his three sons.
That Terah and his family served other gods, we know on divine authority… Truth needs neither fables nor extra miracles to exalt man. It humbles even those whom it blesses to God's glory. Stephen says in Acts 7:2: "The God of glory appeared to our father Abraham when he was in Mesopotamia, before he lived in Haran." Here is the truth of God in its simple, sure and satisfying light… Of Terah we are told nothing that gives happy confidence. Of Haran, father of Lot and of Milcah, we only learn that he died in front of his father Terah in the land where he was born, in Ur of the Chaldeans. He never reached the town of Haran, the halfway stop in the journey. He died before any of them left their Chaldean home. Nahor, it is clear, did not give up Ur for the town of Haran until later; but once there, he stayed.
The verse ends by naming Lot, Haran's son. One writer notices what is missing from his start.
The first notice of Lot is in "The generations of Terah," where we learn that he was the son of Haran, Abram's brother… Lot does not appear to have had any concern of soul about this separation from Ur. The call of the Lord had come to Abram (Genesis 12:1), and at the start Terah made the first move… Terah took Lot along. Then Lot moved about under Abram's influence, content to be carried to Canaan in Abram's faith, or taken down to Egypt when Abram's faith failed.
Terah's family travelled together, but God spoke to only one of them. Kelly quotes Isaiah 51:2 in an older translation, which reads "God called him alone."
Wholly distinct was Abram, but it was the sovereign call of God that made him so. "Look to Abraham your father," says the prophet, "and to Sarah who bore you; God called him alone, and blessed him and multiplied him." Terah was of no account in this, nor even Lot, though he is called a "righteous man" in his day. But Abram was called "alone," whoever might go with him, or share more or less in the blessing that was his rich portion.
Four hundred years of patience came first. One writer describes what God then did — and what He did not do.
For over four hundred years God bore with this world. Then the God of glory appears to a man on earth and begins to act on a completely new principle: the sovereign call of God. It does not set aside the government of the world. It makes no suggestion about improving or reforming the world, or correcting its evil. It leaves the world just as it is. But it asserts God's supreme claim on one person, whom He chooses in sovereign grace and calls out of the world.
- Record. The verse opens "the generations of Terah," a section that runs all the way to Abraham's death in Genesis 25.
- Reversal. Abram stands first in the list, yet he was the youngest son. His place came from God's choice, not from birth.
- Ruin. Terah's household in Ur served other gods. Nothing in Abram's background explains what came next.
- Rescue. Out of that family God called one man, and Scripture stresses that He called him alone.
- Reach. God does not reform the world. He leaves it as it is and calls people out of it by sovereign grace.
And Haran died before the face of his father Terah in the land of his nativity at Ur of the Chaldeans.
The family record of Terah opens with a death, not a birth. One of his three sons dies in front of him in Ur of the Chaldeans — the city Scripture ties to the worship of other gods, and the city God later calls Abram out of.
Ur was not a neutral address. One writer traces where Scripture first speaks of this sin, and whose household it names:
In Joshua 24 we read that Joshua said to all the people, "Thus says the LORD, the God of Israel, 'Long ago, your fathers lived beyond the Euphrates, Terah, the father of Abraham and of Nahor; and they served other gods.'" This is the Bible's first notice of idolatry. And it comes not when idolatry began, but when it had already corrupted Abraham's own father. There was plenty of open evil in the world before the flood, but of serving other gods we never hear. After the flood there is no hint of it either, until Scripture speaks this way of the fathers in Terah's day.
The verse fixes Haran in place. He never travelled the road his father and brother would later take, and he left the story before it started:
Of Haran, the father of Lot and of Milcah, we learn only this. He "died in the presence of his father Terah in the land of his kindred, in Ur of the Chaldeans." He never reached Charran, the halfway stop in the migration. He died before any of them left their shared Chaldean home.
Readers naturally want a cause of death, and later Jewish legends supplied dramatic ones. The same writer treats the gap in the record as a discipline for us rather than an invitation to invent:
We need not guess about Haran's death. It is enough to learn from this note of Scripture how unusual it was for a son to die in front of his father, in the land of his birth. If the hidden details held any divine lesson, our God in His goodness would have given us that too. Imagining, or accepting the imaginations of others, is unbelief just as much as hesitating over what the inspired word says. Where Scripture stops speaking, let us learn to be silent.
Verse 27 lists Abram first, yet the dates show the birth order ran the other way. That reversal is read as a signal of how Abram came by his position:
The order of the three sons of Terah reverses that of nature. Abram was in no sense the head of the family after the flesh, not even when his brother Haran died. Comparing dates and facts makes it clear that Abram was the youngest of all. Haran arrived when his father was seventy; Abram not until his father was one hundred and thirty. His leading place, therefore, was due to the choice of God.
Where God found Abram says as much as the call itself:
It was in sovereign grace that God appeared like this. Even the line of Shem, the father and relatives of Abraham, were idolaters. Grace gives what is good; it does not find it. And the God of glory did more than appear. He appeared to Abraham while he was in Mesopotamia — at the farthest point of his distance from "the land," and in idolatrous surroundings.
Haran's death leaves his son Lot in the household. Whose faith carried Lot after that?
There is no sign that Lot himself was stirred in soul about leaving Ur. The call of the Lord had come to Abram (Genesis 12:1), and at the start Terah seems to have taken the lead. Terah, Abram and Lot all left the land and city where "they served other gods" (Joshua 24:2). Abram went at the call of God. Terah, it seems, was moved by Abram's call. Lot was taken by Terah, then moved about under Abram's influence — content to be carried along to Canaan in Abram's faith, or taken down to Egypt when Abram's faith failed.
- Ur — the family lived where Scripture first records people serving other gods, and Terah's household was among them.
- Grave — Haran dies in his father's presence, in his own city, before the family moved a step toward Canaan.
- Silence — Scripture gives no cause of death. If the missing details held a lesson, God in His goodness would have told us. Guessing is unbelief, not devotion.
- Grace — God appears to Abram, the youngest son, inside this idol-serving family and at the farthest point from the land. Grace gives what is good; it does not find it.
- Company — Haran's death leaves Lot travelling on Abram's faith: carried to Canaan by it, and taken down to Egypt when it failed.
And Abram and Nahor took wives the name of Abram's wife was Sarai; and the name of Nahor's wife, Milcah, a daughter of Haran, the father of Milcah and the father of Iscah.
This verse drops two marriages into a family list. It looks like bare record-keeping. Yet these few names set up the story that follows: who leaves home, who stays, and through whose family God keeps working.
The verse spends its words on wives, not achievements. One writer sees God's care here for the closest of human ties, written into a word that lasts for ever.
God takes a kind interest not only in the people who deal with Him but in their relationships — above all in marriage, the most important of all natural ties for a human being. Those on both sides here may not have known Him yet. But He knew the end from the beginning, and in His providence He guided those who would play an important part in the future dealings of His grace. He records it in His word, which lasts for ever. In this way He shows how serious it is to all who fear Him, as they take their own steps here below. Above all, He wants them to seek His guidance.
Nahor marries the daughter of his own brother Haran. That makes her his niece. The gap in ages between Terah's sons is what makes such a match possible.
Verse 32 tells us that Terah lived two hundred and five years. His eldest son was born when he was seventy, so that son could not have been Abram. Genesis 12:4 tells us that Abram was only seventy-five when he left Haran, after Terah's death... It would seem from the history that Haran was the eldest son, born when his father was seventy. From this we can understand how Nahor married Haran's daughter Milcah, his niece... We also see more clearly how the granddaughter of Nahor became the wife of Isaac, Abraham's son.
The verse names a second daughter of Haran and then says nothing more about her. An old suggestion tried to fill the silence.
Daughter of Haran, the brother of Abraham. Genesis 11:29. According to Josephus, the Jews believed she was Sarai, Abraham's wife.
Commentators differ. One reports the tradition. Another weighs Abram's own later words in Genesis 20:12 and finds it unconvincing.
Still, I cannot help believing that Abram's words to Abimelech (Genesis 20:12) point more naturally to Terah as Sarah's father by a second and later wife, since she was ten years younger than her husband. Scripture does not hide facts that clashed with the law given at a later day. But it is easy to see why the Jews might try to soften or remove what was discreditable by a so-called tradition.
Milcah stays behind when Abram leaves. So why does the verse name her at all?
Milcah, who was Nahor's wife, is also mentioned, because her descendants come into the history of God's ways later on.
That line runs on to the woman who becomes Isaac's wife.
Of Milcah we hear very little. She was Haran's daughter and Nahor's wife, and as Genesis 22 and 24 tell us, mother of Bethuel and seven other sons. Bethuel was the father of Laban and Rebekah, about whom Scripture says so much there and later on. We know nothing more about Iscah than that she too was Haran's daughter.
The verse marries off both brothers in one sentence. Then their paths split.
Nahor, however, another of Terah's sons, did not come under this influence. He was comfortably settled at home with his wife, and at home they stayed, when Terah, Abram, Sarah and Lot set out from the land of their fathers.
Nahor's life is not a disaster. It grows in every way but one.
Nahor is not moved in this day when God is at work. He and his wife remain in Mesopotamia, and they do well there. They have children; goods and property increase. They make an easy and respectable journey across the world; but they do not grow in the knowledge of God, and bear no testimony, or at best a small and unclear testimony, to His name.
- Registered — God records marriage in a word that lasts for ever. He guides people who may not yet know Him into parts His grace will later use.
- Related — Nahor married Milcah, his brother Haran's daughter and so his niece. The wide age gap between Terah's eldest and youngest sons makes the match understandable.
- Reported, not resolved — Iscah is named and then dropped. An old tradition made her Sarai. Abram's words in Genesis 20:12 point instead to Terah as Sarah's father by a later wife.
- Reaching forward — Milcah appears because her line runs to Bethuel, then to Laban and Rebekah, who becomes Isaac's wife.
- Ruled by response — Abram and Nahor start in the same house and the same verse. One leaves home; the other does well there and bears little testimony to His name.
And Sarai was barren she had no child.
Genesis traces the line of Shem name by name down to Abram. Just as God is ready to build a nation, the record stops on a closed womb: everything that follows rests on a couple who cannot have children.
Scripture does not hide the difficulty. It states the fact and lets it stand for years. One writer notes how long the pain lasted, and what it led to in the end.
It is said here that Sarai was barren; she had no child. And this remained a painful fact for many years. Yet she was still to bear Abram's heir, the child of promise. That came after long patience of faith, mixed here and there with some impatience of unbelief. God said his offspring would be named through Isaac. Isaac is a picture of the "Child born" and of the "Son given," at whose name every knee will bow and every tongue confess. He even pictures Him in being received back from the dead, in figure.
The picture here is not only about childbearing. It says something about every one of us by nature.
The barren woman is in Scripture the type of nature's ruined and helpless condition. There is no ability to do anything for God — no power to bring forth any fruit to Him; all is death and barrenness. Such is the real condition of every child of Adam. He can neither do anything for God nor for himself, as regards his eternal destiny. He is emphatically "without strength"; he is "a dry tree," "a heath in the desert." Such is the lesson taught us by the barren woman.
The emptiness is not only in Sarai's womb. Abram's family worshipped idols. Neither its religion nor its ability to produce an heir offered God anything to build on.
The call of God goes out in sovereign grace, separating to Himself a man no better than his fellows but openly caught up in the idolatries of his fathers.
The family line that leads to Abram gives no ground for confidence either.
In the chosen line itself we have only a thin record of names and lifespans. Even so, it is plain that there is decay, and that it never stops. Elsewhere we read that these men fell away from God, which left every possibility of hope to His sovereign grace. The root of all the blessing that follows is here and only here.
Years later God promises Abram a son. By then Abram has long known what nature says. One writer traces his faith back to that impossibility.
At the time when God promised him an heir Abraham was childless... Every evidence of nature said he could never have an heir. Yet he believed the promise of God that he would have one. So the faith that lays hold of God as the One who gives life to the dead was already there in him, in seed form.
That is the shape of all real faith. It does not calculate from what it can see.
If he reasoned from himself and Sarah, the promise of God was beyond hope, and even against it. But he believed in hope, because God had declared he would have as many descendants as the stars and the sand. Faith reasons from God and His word, not from self or circumstances.
The story does not end in loss. Later Scripture calls the barren woman to sing, and it matters which woman that is.
"Sing, O barren one, who did not bear; break forth into singing and cry aloud, you who have not been in labor! For the children of the desolate one will be more than the children of her who is married." ... The law knew nothing of praise. Hagar's son was born of the flesh. Sarah's child was the child of God's grace and power... When the barren woman bears a child, nothing but praise can express it.
- Barren. Sarai had no child. That painful fact stood for many years, and nature offered no way forward.
- Bankrupt. The barren woman pictures our ruined and helpless condition. We have no power to bring forth fruit for God. We are "without strength."
- Because. The line was in decay and the family in idolatry. That left every possibility of hope to the sovereign grace of God — the root of all the blessing that follows.
- Believing. Abraham reasoned from God's word, not from himself. The faith that grasps God as the One who gives life to the dead was already in him, in seed form.
- Bearing. God calls the barren woman to sing. Her child is the child of His grace and power, and only praise can answer that.
And Terah took Abram his son, and Lot the son of Haran his son's son, and Sarai his daughter-in-law, his son Abram's wife; and they went forth together out of Ur of the Chaldeans, to go into the land of Canaan, and came as far as Haran, and dwelt there.
Genesis 11 ends with a family leaving Ur for Canaan — and stopping halfway. Three questions shape everything that follows: who received the call, why the journey stalled, and what the delay cost.
Terah's name heads the sentence, not Abram's — and commentators treat that order as the key.
The call of the Lord was not to Terah but to Abraham, whom God called to go out from his kindred as well as his country. Here we learn that he failed. For "Terah took Abram his son," and so on. This was no right answer to the call of God. The result was that for the time it came to nothing. They "went forth together," kindred and all, "to go into the land of Canaan." But into the land of Canaan they did not come. They "came to Haran" and "settled there." But Haran was no more Canaan than Ur of the Chaldeans.
Stephen's account in Acts 7 tells us who appeared to Abram, and where.
From Stephen's address, recorded in Acts 7, we learn that "the God of glory appeared to our father Abraham when he was in Mesopotamia." Here we see what sets this call apart from every other call. It comes from God — the God of glory. This world builds cities and towers reaching up to heaven. Nothing in it speaks of God; it only exalts and displays the glory of man. "The God of glory" speaks of another scene where there is nothing of man but everything that displays God. This is the God who, in wonderful grace, appears to a man living in a world estranged from God and sunk in idolatry.
The father's name and the town's name both fit what happened there.
Terah lives up to his name ("delay"), and ends his days at Haran, called after his dead son. Natural things hold him fast, though death is written on them, and memory only keeps his loss fresh. "Haran" means "parched," yet there he stays (and Abram with him) until he dies. Then we see that Terah had been holding back the very man he had led. Now Abram rises up in the power of a divine call — a call that had come to him, and to him alone, from the start.
Abram did leave Ur. He gave up a great deal. But leaving is not the same as arriving.
Abraham came to Haran. He did not get into Canaan at once. He took with him something God had called him away from. God had commanded him to leave his kindred and his father's house. There was a reserve in his heart, and so he got only part of the blessing. He lost his home and his country for very little, while he was only halfway toward where God had sent him.
What kept Abram at Haran was not an enemy but a loved relative.
How many of us have been held back for a time by some loved relative. We fail to take the separate path that fits the call of God. The call reaches the believer. He accepts that it is true, but he delays his answer because a close relative is not ready for that separate place. The soul clings to the hope that after a little waiting the relative will see the call, and then both can act together. Faith cannot lift nature up to its own level, though nature can drag down and hinder the man of faith. People can raise many pleas to excuse this halfway halt, but in reality it puts the claims of nature above the call of God.
Lot travels as a passenger, carried along by natural ties rather than by a call of his own.
Here we find nature trying to follow a divine call which it had never understood, and had never heard for itself. The greatness of the One who had called Abram had not touched Lot's heart, and neither had the greatness and power of the call of the God of glory.
Some have claimed Stephen's account contradicts Genesis on when Terah died. Commentators answer that there was more than one call.
If we look carefully at the accounts of Abraham's call, we never find the phrase "the call," because there was clearly more than one. Stephen says the God of glory appeared to Abraham when he was in Mesopotamia, before he lived in Haran. The effect was that he left his country, and perhaps many of his kindred. But his father went with him, and Sarah, and Lot, and they lived in Haran. They stayed there long enough to gain souls in Haran. Then it seems God called him to leave his country, kindred, and father's house, and come into a land He would show him. The effect of this call was that he left Haran.
- Called — the God of glory appeared to Abram alone, in Ur. No one else in the house had heard that call.
- Compromised — "Terah took Abram" reverses the order. The man God had not called took the lead, and the answer came to nothing for a time.
- Halted — Terah means "delay," Haran means "parched." The family stopped at a name that described them.
- Cost — a reserve in the heart buys only part of the blessing. Abram gave up home and country but never reached Canaan, and Lot came along without ever hearing the call.
- Completed — death removed the hindrance. Then Abram left Haran for the land God would show him.
And the days of Terah were two hundred and five years; and Terah died in Haran.
Genesis 11 closes not with a promise but with a funeral: a man who set out for Canaan and got no further than Haran. This verse raises a question every believer meets: what happens when family ties and God's call pull in different directions?
The chapter has traced great achievements: a mighty hunter, cities, a tower aimed at heaven. Then one short sentence closes it.
Finally the eleventh chapter ends with the gloom of death. "Terah died in Haran." The world that excludes God, and glorifies man, is a world that is in the grip of death. Men may gain great renown, like Nimrod who was a mighty one in the earth. They may build great cities like Asshur, or try to build a tower whose top would reach to heaven, like the men of Babel. But in the end the mighty one has to bow before a still mightier, the city crumbles to dust, the tower becomes a heap, and death reigns over all.
Both names in this verse carry meaning.
Haran marked a halt from which there was no progress while Terah lived. The very names are suggestive. Terah means "delay," and Haran means "parched." So many things hinder those who long to follow the Lord fully. The most serious of them often come from our own family circle. Unconverted relatives, or Christian relatives with worldly minds, are often a sad drag on our souls. But full blessing cannot be known until obedience is complete.
The previous verse says Terah took Abram. Commentators find the failure in that word order.
The call of Jehovah was not to Terah but to Abraham, who was called to go out from his kindred as well as his country. Here we learn that he failed... his father, who was not within the terms of the call, took the lead, as was only natural if he came with Abram. So we read not even that Abram took Terah, but that "Terah took Abram," and this made the word of God of no effect. Faith is no compromise; it receives and obeys the divine word.
Terah's start looked willing. He left Ur for Canaan too.
Nature may try to walk the path of faith. At the start it may do the right thing, with the best of intentions. But in its self-confidence nature always takes on more than it has the power to do. So it happens that while Terah leaves Ur "to go to the land of Canaan," he never reaches the land. Nature stops halfway at Haran, and there he dwells to the day of his death.
Terah's death is the hinge. The change shows in who now takes whom.
Faith was now cleared of its drawback... "They went forth to go into the land of Canaan, and into the land of Canaan they came" (Gen. 12:5). So the word of Jehovah was fully honoured, and the result was simple, pure and bright. For it was no longer man only trying to hinder: God was obeyed. It is not now "Terah took Abram," but "Abram took Sarai."
Others draw out how God Himself worked through the loss:
So long as Terah lived, no progress was made... At length, however, God stepped in. The natural hindrance is removed by the father's death. Government takes its course, though its steps may appear slow. Grace also appears, and triumphs. The pilgrim continues his journey, and enters the land of Canaan.
Terah lived 205 years, yet Stephen says Abram left Haran only after his father died. Commentators fit the numbers together in different ways. One says Abram was not the eldest son:
The error among ancients and moderns alike comes from one assumption: that Abraham was Terah's eldest son. There is no more ground for that in the order of the names than in the case of Noah's sons, where we know that not Shem but Japheth was the eldest. But, for an adequate divine reason, the younger and not the elder is repeatedly named first. Haran was born to Terah at 70 years, and Abraham at 130. That is why Abraham could marry Haran's daughter Sarai, ten years younger than himself.
after-note: DELETE
Another approach separates the two moments when God spoke:
If we examine the accounts of the call of Abraham carefully, we find no such phrase as "the call," because there was clearly more than one... Stephen says, "from there [Haran], when his father was dead, he [God] removed him into this land." This shows beyond question that Jehovah acted a second time.
- Delay. Terah's name means "delay," and he lived up to it — the family set out for Canaan and settled instead in Haran, "parched."
- Lead. The call came to Abram alone, yet Terah took the lead. Obedience mixed with compromise makes God's word of no effect.
- Halt. Nature can start well and even look zealous, but it promises more than it can perform, and stops halfway.
- Death. The chapter ends in a grave because a world that shuts God out and exalts man is a world where death reigns over all.
- Release. Death broke the natural tie. Then "Abram took" replaced "Terah took," and the pilgrim who had only started out reached the land.
And Jehovah had said to Abram, Go out of thy land, and from thy kindred, and from thy father's house, to the land that I will shew thee.
Genesis 12 opens with God speaking to one man in a world that had drifted into idolatry. His first word to Abram is a word of departure. Who was speaking? What did God ask Abram to leave? And how could he go when God never named the land?
Stephen's speech in Acts 7 quotes this call and names the speaker: "the God of glory." Abram met more than a command.
There came the moment when God — "the God of glory" — made Himself known to a poor dark idolater, and won his heart forever. It was not a new religion that Abram learned, nor a new set of opinions, but he came to know a Person. The result was that, like the Thessalonians later, he turned to God from idols to serve the living and true God.
Giving up country, relatives and home is a heavy demand. The order of events made it possible.
The revelation and the renunciation were as cause and effect. The second was possible in the strength and joy of the first. The glory of Ur of the Chaldees faded before the God of glory. As he eagerly stretched out his hands toward the one, Abraham turned his back on the other.
Older translations read "the LORD had said to Abram," placing the call before chapter 11 ends. Commentators turn to Stephen's account to settle the question.
If we only look at the Hebrew, there is room for discussion. Its tenses took their sense from the context, and old and new versions differ. But God has given us help here, and all who are humble enough to value it may be glad. Stephen, in Acts 7:2-3, makes it certain that the Lord appeared and gave this call in Mesopotamia, not in Haran. The call came there. Abram carried it out only in part while Terah lived, for Terah was quite content to settle in Haran. But after his death the power of the Lord's call revived in Abram's heart.
So the family journey at the end of Genesis 11 was Abram's call taking effect — in part.
From both these passages it plainly appears that Terah and his family moved, as Genesis 11:31 records, because "the God of glory" had revealed Himself to Abram. But it does not appear that Terah had any such revelation from God. He appears as a hindrance to Abram more than anything else. Until he died, Abram did not come into the land of Canaan — the destination God had appointed for him.
The verse names three things to leave, and together they cover a person's whole world.
Abraham is not told to stay in the city of Ur and deal with man's wickedness. He is not told to improve its social conditions, reform its home life, or make it a better and brighter world. He is called to come out of it in every form. He is to leave the political world — "your country"; the social world — "your kindred"; and the family world — "your father's house."
The same writer marks the limits of this separation.
It is not that we are to despise government — it is still God's appointment. Nor can we neglect family ties — they are ordered of God. Nor are we to stop being courteous and kind and doing good to all people as we have opportunity. But God calls us, as believers, away from taking part in the world's political activities, its social round, and the whole sphere where unconverted members of our families find their pleasure without God.
God names what Abram must leave, but not where he is going. The command still stands when the land holds nothing but famine.
Later, Abram may find that obeying this command means staying in a land where nothing but starvation seems to await him. But even so, God had not qualified the command in any way. The word was simple and definite: "the land that I will show you." It should have bound Abram just as much when famine surrounded him as when peace and plenty prevailed. Famine should not have persuaded him to leave the land, and abundance should not have persuaded him to stay. The words that carried weight were, "I will show you."
One man's call served a purpose for the whole earth.
To preserve a testimony to Himself, God called Abram right out of the evil, to become a pilgrim and stranger in the earth. Mankind was already divided into nations under God's government. Now it would see a division of another kind — a godly line separated from the mass of the ungodly. This was a division produced by divine grace.
- Glory first. God appeared before He commanded; Abram met a Person, not a religion, and the pull of Ur weakened.
- Glory separates. What he saw set him loose from three circles at once — country, kindred, father's house.
- Glory delayed. The call reached him in Mesopotamia. While Terah lived it stalled at Haran, so a hindrance can pause obedience for years.
- Glory leads. God never named the land. So neither famine nor plenty could decide Abram's steps — only "I will show you."
- Glory preserved. Out of a world sliding into idolatry, grace marked off a godly line to keep a witness to God alive on earth.
And I will make of thee a great nation, and bless thee, and make thy name great; and thou shalt be a blessing.
God speaks these words to one man, Abram, just after the world had tried to make a name for itself at Babel. The promise grows in stages: a nation, a blessed man, a great name. Then it turns Abram himself into a blessing for others.
The call marks a turning point in the Bible's story. The layout of Genesis shows how big the change is.
The nation's history began when God called Abraham out of his old place and connections. He was to go to the land of God's choice, and there God would make him a great nation. This is shown in Genesis 12:1-3, and it was an event that opened a new age. Genesis 1-11 covers a slightly longer stretch of time than all the rest of the Old Testament. Yet it packs that time into a few chapters, while the rest is spread out over many books. The call of Abraham marked a new departure in God's ways with the earth.
Just one chapter earlier, men on the plain of Shinar said, "let us make a name for ourselves" (Genesis 11:4). God answers that ambition by promising the opposite kind of greatness to a man who leaves it all behind.
Notice the Lord's word to Abram in Genesis 12:2, "I will make your name great." Compare it with the ambition of the men in chapter 11:4: "Let us make a name for ourselves." Men's schemes, whether the Tower of Babel or any other, come to an end. The names of those who plan them and push them through die with the world they belong to. But the man who ties himself to God's interests gets a name that will last for ever. Far better to let God make our name great than to seek anything for ourselves in a scene like this.
Abraham's name has outlived the builders'.
The call of God carried Abraham into a path far away from the power and fame of the men who built Babel. He started his pilgrimage with God's promise to make him a great nation, to bless him, to make his name great, and to make him a blessing. God has been as good as His word. People still honour the name of Abraham today. That, however, is a small thing. Far greater is the honour that God Himself calls him "Abraham, my friend" (Isaiah 41:8). Here is true greatness — greatness that lasts, while Nimrod's tower and city are only shapeless ruins on the plains of Mesopotamia.
The promise is attached to obedience to the call — the man who steps outside receives what those inside are grasping for.
Fourthly, there is great present blessing for the one who answers the call. As separated from this present evil world, God says to Abraham, "I will make of you a great nation, and I will bless you, and make your name great." The men of this world seek to make a great name for themselves; they say, "Let us make us a name." But God says to the separated man, "I will bless you and make your name great."
The word came true in his lifetime, and it was the world itself that admitted it — at the grave of Sarah, where Abraham still called himself a stranger.
Sixty years before this, God had said to Abraham that one result of answering the call of God, and taking the outside place, would be that God would make his name great (Genesis 12:2). Here we see this word fulfilled, for the world itself has to own that this separate man is "a mighty prince of God."
The last clause is not more of the same. It changes Abram's role entirely.
It was much for God to say, "I will make of you a great nation, and I will bless you, and make your name great." But there was another word, and this was especially dear to the heart of one so blessed himself. "You shall be a blessing." This was to make him not only the object of grace, but the instrument of it. It was to give him fellowship with God Himself in the activity of His own goodness.
Commentators separate the parts of the promise.
God says, "I will make of you a great nation, and you shall be a blessing." He puts him at the centre of blessing... and then you get the point Galatians 3 presses: "in you all the families of the earth shall be blessed." The seed is not mentioned here: the great nation is the line of natural descendants. Abram is the root of the tree of promise.
That blessing reaches beyond Abram himself:
This is above all a prophecy concerning Christ, the Seed of Abram, through whom blessing is to come to the entire world.
God asks for nothing in return. He only says what He will do.
God's covenant set no conditions. It made no demands. It put no yoke on the neck and no burden on the shoulder. When "the God of glory appeared to Abraham" in Ur of the Chaldeans, He did not speak to him with words like "you shall do this" and "you shall not do that."... His word to Abraham was, "I WILL GIVE."
- Called — God called Abraham out of his old place and connections, and that call opened a new departure in God's ways with the earth.
- Given — the promise sets no conditions and strikes no bargain. God's word is "I will give," so it rests on His faithfulness alone.
- Named — Babel wanted a name for itself and lies in ruins. God made Abraham's name great, and even the world called him a prince of God.
- Sent — "you shall be a blessing" makes him not only the object of grace but its instrument, sharing God's own goodness toward others.
- Widened — the great nation is his natural line, but through Abram blessing reaches all the families of the earth in Christ.
And I will bless them that bless thee, and curse him that curseth thee; and in thee shall all families of the earth be blessed.
God calls Abram away from his country, his relatives and his father's house to a land he has not yet seen. The promise then runs far past Abram — to those who bless or dishonour him, and at last to every family on earth.
The promise does not stop at what Abram receives. God had said that Abram would himself be a blessing, and one writer weighs what that adds:
This word was especially dear to the heart of one so blessed himself. It made him not only the object of grace, but the instrument of it. It was to give him communion with God Himself in the activity of His own goodness.
No law existed yet, and Abram had done nothing to earn this. One writer weighs how wide the last promise reaches:
No one can limit such a word as this. It shows how the heart of God went out to all, even in earliest times. Blessing for Gentiles was always before His mind. But on what ground? Certainly not the ground of law, to which the foolish Galatians were turning in vain. The law did not yet exist when God spoke this way to the father of the faithful. The promise was unconditional and depends on God alone for fulfilment. It was not drawn out by anything in man, nor even in Abraham individually; it flowed only from the grace of His heart.
Everyone else's standing is now set by their attitude to Abram. One writer sees in this a place that mirrors God's own:
Blessing marked his calling. He is blessed and a blessing. Blessing comes to others according to their attitude towards him. And he is the one source of blessing to all the families of the earth... God is blessedness in Himself. It marks Him. He is the source of it to all who have any. This was, in a derived way, exactly Abraham's place... If there was a curse, it was only for hostility to this.
The same principle carries forward to a coming judgment of the nations. The test there is how they treated Abraham's descendants:
Balaam therefore closes his prophecy with the words of God to Abraham: "Blessed are those who bless you, and cursed are those who curse you." Matthew 25 shows how this is fulfilled. There the Son of Man sits on the throne of His glory. He separates the nations one from another by how they treated one of the least of His brothers, the children of Israel.
Galatians 3:8 calls this line good news spoken in advance. One writer draws out how little Abram could have known of its reach:
Abraham acted in faith in God's word, and God said to him, "In you all the families of the earth shall be blessed." We know the use that the Spirit of God makes of this promise. He says, "The Scripture, foreseeing that God would justify the Gentiles by faith, preached the gospel beforehand to Abraham, saying, In you shall all the nations be blessed" (Gal. 3:8). Abraham did not, and could not, foresee how far the effect of that faith would reach. He acted on it in answering the call of God. But God foresaw that faith was the one way of blessing for all the families of the earth. So now, in our small measure, only God can foresee how far the blessing to others may reach from one soul who answers the call of God in simple, whole-hearted faith.
The words outgrow the man who first heard them. Their full weight rests on a descendant:
God certainly fulfilled the first part of this promise to Abraham. But as a whole it goes far beyond him. It looks on to the Seed, "which is Christ" (Gal. 3:16). Those who bless Him will be blessed forever. Those who curse or despise Him and reject His salvation will be cursed forever. Not all Israel were blessed in faithful Abraham. But in his Seed, in the glory of His coming reign, all Israel and all the nations are to be blessed.
History has already tested the middle clause, and the last clause remains open:
And all God promised to Abram He has kept. God has fulfilled every word to the letter. Nation after nation has hated Abraham's seed, his natural descendants. Each has found to its great sorrow how true Abraham's God is. These promises still hold good... The nations of the earth, all the families, are waiting, without knowing it, to be blessed by Abraham's seed.
- Grace starts it. Nothing in Abram drew the promise out; it came before the law and rests on God alone to fulfil.
- Grace makes a channel. He is not only an object of grace but an instrument of it, sharing God's own activity of goodness.
- Grace sets the measure. How people treat him decides whether they are blessed or cursed. The same test returns at the judgment of the nations.
- Grace reaches the Gentiles. Galatians calls this line the gospel announced in advance: God would justify the nations by faith.
- Grace lands in Christ. The Seed is Christ, and in Him all Israel and all nations are yet to be blessed.
And Abram departed as Jehovah had said to him. And Lot went with him. And Abram was seventy-five years old when he departed out of Haran.
Genesis 12:4 is the moment Abram finally moves. God had spoken years earlier, but the journey stalled at Haran, and now Abram sets out at seventy-five with his nephew Lot beside him.
The call itself carried a condition. Abram was not offered a blessing to enjoy where he stood; he was told to leave, and the promise waited on his going.
This calling, however special and personal, however much it marked him out for favour, necessarily involved obedience. The call of blessing to Abraham was a call to leave his country for a land which God would show him. Whatever the power acting on his mind might be, obedience was the result. The very terms of the call made it clear — no obedience, no blessing.
An earlier start toward Canaan had stopped at Haran. The difference now is who leads, and how far they get.
Terah, as long as he lived, was a dead weight on Abraham's obedience. But when Terah died, "Abram went, as the LORD had told him." Then the language is pointedly different: "And Abram took Sarai his wife, and Lot his brother's son, and all their possessions … and they set out to go to the land of Canaan, and into the land of Canaan they came." There was no failure now, because his faith was no longer hampered by the natural ties that almost always take the upper hand. That was why the earlier move had lacked the power of God to give it effect. Once that weight was gone, the blessing followed at once.
Even the names in this story carry the lesson.
Terah fulfills his name ("delay"), and ends his days at Haran, named after his dead son. Natural things hold him fast, though death is written on them, and memory only keeps the loss fresh. "Haran" means "parched," yet there he stays (and Abram with him) till he dies. Then we find that Terah had been holding back the very man he had led. Abram rises up in the power of a divine call — a call that had come to him, and to him alone at the first.
God said nothing new to Abram while he stayed in Haran. He waited instead of softening His command.
We are not told how long Abraham stayed at Haran. Yet God kindly waited on His servant until he was free of nature's hold and could fully obey His command. There was, however, no adjusting of that command to the circumstances of nature. That would never do. God loves His servants too well to rob them of the full blessedness of complete obedience. There was no fresh revelation to Abraham's soul during his stay in Haran. It is good to see this. We must act up to the light already given, and then God will give us more.
The verse also names Lot, who went with him. Lot is a real believer, but he moves on another man's faith.
Lot appears as a companion who walks alongside people of faith, not as a man who has faith and acts in its energy himself. This marks his path from the beginning. So when he is put to the test, there is only weakness. In how many things do we act alongside those who have faith, before having it for ourselves! The soul will not stand when sifted by temptation, if it is walking in another's light.
Three men in this account answer God in three different ways.
In Terah we have seen the man of nature. He can make a fair profession, but he cannot take the path of faith that leads outside the world. In Abraham we have seen the man of faith. Acting on the word of the LORD, he takes the outside place, though at times he may fail in that path. In Lot we see a true believer, who takes the outside place, not in faith in God, but under the influence of man. We have already read that when Abraham departed from Haran, "Lot went with him."
Abram's age raises a puzzle about the family dates. Writers answer it by saying Abram was not the eldest son.
The conclusion seems to be that Terah's family began when he was seventy years old. Abram was not born till Terah was a hundred and thirty. Abram is named first because Terah's other children were of small importance compared with him. These things should teach us that God cares about moral and spiritual matters, not about dates.
- Delay — "Terah" means delay and "Haran" means parched; a family tie held Abram in a dry halfway place for years.
- Silence — God gave no new word at Haran. He waits for us to act on the light already given, and He does not adjust His command to our circumstances.
- Departure — Once nature's hold broke, Abram went "as the LORD had told him." This time they did not stop short: into Canaan they came.
- Company — Lot "went with him," a real believer walking by another man's faith; such a soul will not stand when tested.
- Age — Abram left Haran at seventy-five, though he was not Terah's eldest son. Scripture orders these lives by spiritual weight, not by birth order.
And Abram took Sarai his wife, and Lot his brother's son, and all their possessions that they had acquired, and the souls that they had obtained in Haran, and they went out to go into the land of Canaan; and into the land of Canaan they came.
Here Abram's journey finally reaches its goal: he takes his household with him, and this time they arrive in Canaan. The wording differs from the earlier start in Genesis 11, so commentators ask who is leading, who is following, and why the first journey stopped at Haran.
In Genesis 11 the family set out for Canaan but settled in Haran. The difference in this verse lies in a single change of subject.
The word of the Lord was now fully honoured, and the result was simple, pure and bright. It was no longer man trying only to hinder: God was obeyed. It is not now "Terah took Abram," but "Abram took Sarai." It was the walk of faith, separate to the Lord, Abram blessed and a blessing.
The same contrast is drawn between nature at the head of the journey and faith at the head of it.
When nature took the lead, we read, "They went forth… from Ur of the Chaldeans to go into the land of Canaan." But under Terah's leading they never reach the land. Now, when faith takes the lead, we read again, "They went forth to go into the land of Canaan; and into the land of Canaan they came."
One writer traces the delay to Abram's father. While Terah lived and led, Abram could not obey the call.
Terah, as long as he lived, was a dead weight on Abraham's obedience… God told Abraham to leave his relatives as well as his country. Until he did that, he did not reach Canaan. It would hardly have been proper for Abram as the son to take Terah his father. So "Terah took Abram…" This, however, was not at all according to God's call to Abram. That is why we read, "they came to Haran, and settled there."
Stephen's speech in Acts 7 fills in what happened before Haran. One writer reads the two accounts together and finds two separate calls.
Stephen speaks of the God of glory appearing to Abraham when he was in Mesopotamia, before he lived in Haran… As a result he left his country, and perhaps many of his relatives. But his father went with him, along with Sarah and Lot, and they settled in Haran. They stayed there long enough for people to be gained in Haran (Gen. 11:31; 12:5). Then it seems God called him to leave his country, his relatives and his father's house, and come into a land that He would show him (Gen. 12:1). The effect of this call was that he left Haran.
Abram did not travel alone.
We only note here that Abram brought his household with him out of Chaldea and Haran into Canaan. This happened on the same principle as with Noah: the household is linked before God with its head.
Lot travels with Abram, but he moves only because Abram moves.
Not nature now, but the man of faith leads, and they no longer linger on the road; but Lot merely follows Abram, as before he had followed Terah. Abram walks with God; Lot only with Abram. How easy it is, even for a believer, to walk where another's bolder faith leads and clears the way! He can go on without ever searching his own conscience, and without real faith about the way itself.
Notice what the two men already owned when they set out.
When Abraham first entered on the path of faith, and Lot went with him, they took "all their possessions." But it caused no strife (Gen. 12:5). In Egypt, however, Abraham gains great wealth, so that after his restoration we read, "He was very rich in livestock, in silver, and in gold."
The verse does not stop at Abram setting out.
He might have set out and never finished the journey. But they "came to the land of Canaan." So let us not only have a goal; let us also seek grace to reach it.
Arrival, however, did not mean ownership.
Here we have the position of the heavenly people. God's grace and power have placed them in a heavenly position, pictured by Canaan, and there they live. They have everything in promise, but nothing yet in possession.
- Leader — In Genesis 11 nature led and the journey stopped at Haran. Here faith leads: "Abram took" replaces "Terah took."
- Hindrance — Terah was a dead weight on Abram's obedience; Abram obeyed in full only after that tie was gone.
- Household — His people and possessions travel with him, and God links a household with its head.
- Follower — Lot walks with Abram while Abram walks with God: his faith is borrowed.
- Arrival — Setting out is not arriving. Abram reached the land, yet held it in promise, not possession.
And Abram passed through the land to the place of Shechem, to the oak of Moreh. And the Canaanite was then in the land.
Abram has obeyed God's call and now stands in the land God promised — but he settles nothing, buys nothing and claims nothing, and other people already live there. That gap between the promise and what he found is what the commentators explore.
The verse says Abram passed through the land. He moved across it and took hold of none of it. One writer says this was the right response to what God had promised.
He came to stay for a while, not to settle. He moves from place to place, and in every place it is only a tent he pitches. The God of glory had told him that He would show him the land. His descendants would have it forever, but he himself would only see it. And so we find him looking it over, but not settling on any of it. For this was the right answer to such a promise... The Canaanite was then in the land and held the soil. Abraham did not argue with him over a single foot of it. He looked it over. He owned it only as faith and hope own a thing. He looked for no inheritance of his own there and then.
The two place names in the verse have meanings. Writers read them together as one lesson about how a person learns from God.
We hear of the first stop at Sichem (Shechem), at the oak of Moreh. The first of these words means "shoulder," the second "instructor." It is when we bend our shoulder to carry a load that we are taught. Whoever is willing to do God's will, will know the teaching. Whoever wants to learn from Christ must take His yoke.
The same pairing is applied directly to the reader's own reluctance:
Shoulder speaks of bearing responsibility. This is a first step of real value for the child of God. Too many of us would rather avoid responsibility. But if we accept the place of bearing a responsible witness for the Lord Jesus, we will be well taught, as Moreh — "teacher" — implies.
The closing clause is not a throwaway geographical note. Commentators treat it as the first hardship Abram met after obeying. They also point to who he meets there.
The presence of the Canaanite in God's land was bound to be a trial to Abraham. It would be a demand on his faith and hope, an exercise of heart, a test of patience... But there, too, he finds the Lord... The connection between the two statements is beautiful and touching. The Canaanites were in the land at that time. So that Abraham's eye would not rest on the Canaanite, who then held the land, the Lord appears to him as the One who was going to give that land to him and to his descendants forever. So Abraham's attention was on the Lord, not on the Canaanite.
Another writer takes the name itself as a warning against a familiar excuse:
Canaanite means "trader." That reminds us there are people who claim to be Christians but only use it to make money. This is a real trial of faith for those who want to walk with God. But despite the Canaanites, Abram would take up proper responsibility and learn from God. Let us also not use the Canaanites as an excuse for failing to obey the word of God fully.
The verse says the Canaanites were in the land at that time. Some argue those words were written long after Abram, when the Canaanites were gone. One writer answers that argument.
There is no ground for saying that these words, or Genesis 13:7, mean the Canaanites and Perizzites were gone from the land by the time the writer lived. They show that the first, if not the second, were in the land when Abram entered it... We can easily understand that this was a trial to Abram. But he did not have to wait for the days of Moses, or of Joshua, to know that these invaders and all the others were doomed...
In a land held by someone else, two things marked Abram's life.
They are in the place of strangers, that is clear ("at that time the Canaanites and the Perizzites were dwelling in the land"). They have nothing in possession, "not even a foot's length"; everything rests on their valuing the promises. They have just two things, the altar and the tent. Journeying about, and worshipping God, they are strangers and pilgrims on the earth.
The boldness of that arrangement is worth pausing over:
Abram was not called to drive out the Canaanite. Yet we find his altar to the Lord, and his tent too, on the very ground of those wicked nations. He was a worshipper and a stranger in the very place where the Canaanite was doing well. The smoke of an accepted sacrifice rose from his altar right in front of the enemy. It is a wonderful sight.
- Arrive — Abram reaches the promised land but only passes through it. He looks it over and owns none of it, because the promise was that his descendants would inherit it.
- Shoulder — Shechem means "shoulder," Moreh means "instructor." We learn from God when we bend our shoulder to carry responsibility.
- Trial — the Canaanite in the land tested Abram's faith, hope and patience. The answer was not argument, but the Lord appearing to him.
- Focus — God's promise turned Abram's eye away from the land's present owner and onto the One who would give it. Hostile surroundings were never an excuse to stop obeying.
- Altar — Abram owned not a foot of ground. He had two things only: the altar and the tent. He was a worshipper and a stranger, offering sacrifice in full view of the enemy.
And Jehovah appeared to Abram, and said, Unto thy seed will I give this land. And there he built an altar to Jehovah who had appeared to him.
Abram has just crossed into Canaan, and the land God promised him is already full of other people. Now, for the first time since the call, the LORD appears to him, names the land as a gift for his offspring, and Abram answers with an altar.
God had said nothing new to Abram since he left Ur. The appearing comes only after Abram reaches the place God named.
His first act, on arrival at the plain of Moreh, near Shechem, was to put up an altar. At this spot the LORD appeared to him and renewed His promise: "to your offspring I will give this land." This is the first recorded time God showed Himself since Abram left Ur of the Chaldeans. It illustrates our Lord's words to His disciples in John 14:21: "Whoever has my commandments and keeps them, he it is who loves me. And he who loves me will be loved by my Father, and I will love him and manifest myself to him." Obedience always brings the light and joy of the Lord's presence as its reward to the soul.
Compare what God said at the start with what He says now. The wording has changed, and so has the way God speaks. (The older translation quoted below reads "the LORD had said" in verse 1; the ESV has "the LORD said.")
"The LORD appeared to Abram" — He not only spoke but "appeared." To my mind that word is not casual but deliberate... The first time, all we read is that "the LORD had said." Now we find that "the LORD appeared to Abram and said, To your offspring I will give this land." Nothing is vague any longer. It is precise. It is not "a land that I will show you," but "to your offspring I will give this land." What is the consequence? There "he built an altar to the LORD" — and not only that, but "to the LORD who had appeared to him." So it is clear to my mind that this was what had to come before worship. Worship waits until the Lord shows Himself.
The verse before this one says the Canaanite was in the land. The order of the two statements is deliberate.
The presence of the Canaanite in God's land was bound to test Abraham. It would be a demand upon his faith and hope, an exercise of heart, a trial of patience... But there, too, he finds the Lord... "The Canaanites were in the land." The Canaanite held it at that moment. So that Abraham's eye would not rest on him, the LORD appears to Abraham as the One who was going to give the land to him and to his offspring forever. So Abraham was taken up with the Lord, and not with the Canaanite... instead of dwelling on Satan's power to keep us out of the inheritance, we should grasp Christ's power to bring us in.
Abram owned none of this land, yet he built. The altar said something to the people around him and something to God.
Abraham had answered God's call and reached the land of his pilgrimage. Then God appeared to him and told him His purpose about his inheritance. Only then did Abram build his altar. You could say he built it in the light of God's purpose. To the Canaanite in the land, the altar was a witness that this pilgrim and stranger among them had a God he worshipped. To God, the altar was the evidence that Abraham wanted to meet His mind and will by having communion with Him.
The place names are not decoration. One writer reads them as a picture of how we learn from God.
We hear of the first halt at Sichem (Shechem), at the oak of Moreh. The first of these words means "shoulder." The second means "instructor." We find instruction when we bow our shoulder to carry the load. He who is willing to do God's will shall know the teaching: he who will learn of Christ must take His yoke.
Commentators differ in emphasis here. Some tie this promise to Israel and the land itself. Others read it through what the New Testament says about Abraham's offspring.
In Galatians 3:16 the apostle is speaking of Genesis 12 and 22, but there he means one special offspring. God made the promise to Abraham alone, and confirmed it to his offspring in Genesis 22... The reasoning in Galatians is that Christ alone is the offspring meant in Genesis 22, where God speaks of the nations of the world. And if we are in Christ, then we too are the offspring of Abraham.
What begins here does not stay a single episode. The altar of verse 7 and the tent of verse 8 become the shape of everything that follows.
"And Abraham built there an altar to the LORD, who had appeared to him." He serves God and enjoys communion with Him. From there he goes to another place and pitches his tent. He builds a new altar to the LORD and calls on the name of the LORD. He is a pilgrim in the land of promise; and that is his entire history... Abraham's tent and altar here shape his whole history, and every experience of faith grows out of those two things.
- Obey, then see. No further light came to Abram until he reached the land God named. Obedience brought the appearing.
- See, then know. What was once "a land that I will show you" becomes "this land" — vagueness replaced by a definite gift.
- Know, then worship. Abram raised the altar to the LORD "who had appeared to him"; worship waits on God making Himself known.
- Worship, then witness. The same altar told the Canaanite that this stranger had a God, and told God that Abram wanted communion with Him.
- Witness, then wait. The land was occupied and the promise still unfulfilled. So Abram lived by tent and altar — a pilgrim whose inheritance rests on the promised offspring.
And he removed thence towards the mountain on the east of Bethel, and pitched his tent, [having] Bethel toward the west, and Ai toward the east; and there he built an altar to Jehovah, and called on the name of Jehovah.
Abram moves on, climbs into the hills, and settles nowhere. He pitches a tent and builds an altar between two towns — Bethel, "house of God," and Ai, "a heap of ruins" — and the verse raises one question: why does a man promised a whole land own nothing in it but a tent and an altar?
The wording marks a change.
Abraham and those with him answered God's call by faith, and so became strangers and exiles. In the New Testament the Holy Spirit says that they "acknowledged that they were strangers and exiles on the earth" (Hebrews 11:13). This stands out in his history. In Haran, Abraham stayed for a time, and we read that he "settled there." Once he reached the land, we read that he "pitched his tent," like a man with no fixed home. We also read that he "passed through the land." As a stranger he had only a tent in this world. As a pilgrim he was passing through to another world.
Hamilton Smith (older translations read "dwelt there" and "strangers and pilgrims")
The altar is Abram's answer to something God did first.
He built an altar to the LORD, who had appeared to him. Again he built an altar, with Bethel on the west and Ai on the east, and there he called upon the name of the LORD. The revelation of the LORD produces worship. The basis of worship is a conscious and precious relationship with the LORD. Abram knew the LORD's grace toward him; therefore he worshipped Him and called upon His name.
Together the two objects give the shape of the man.
The tent and the altar clearly present him to us as a stranger and a worshipper. As such, he was a man entirely separated from the course of this evil world.
The names on both sides of the tent matter.
He worships in the fullness of blessing, and then his "tent" also comes into view for the first time, pitched on the mountain east of Bethel. "Ai" means "a heap of ruin." It is the city that resists the power of Israel in Joshua, after Jericho falls to the ground. It is as if the ruins of Jericho had risen up against those who had lost God's victorious presence, their strength. As a picture, Ai is no doubt the ruined old creation. So Abram pitches his tent between a judged world and the "house of God," with both in view.
The last clause of the verse has a cause behind it.
Calling on the name of the LORD showed Abram's knowledge of the LORD and his dependence on Him. The altar was the outward evidence of his link with God, a testimony for everyone to take account of. But his calling on the name of the LORD was not only a profession of faith in Him. It was also the evidence of a living link formed by the call of God. Abram would never have called on the name of the LORD if God had not first called Abram while he was in Ur of the Chaldeans. God's call gave him the power to answer it. That call also gave him the desire and understanding to call upon the LORD's name.
The land is not yet his, and the Canaanites are still in it. That is where the altar goes up.
Abram was not called to drive out the Canaanite. Yet we find his altar to the LORD on the very ground of the wicked nations, and his tent as well. Here is a worshipper and a stranger in the very place where the Canaanite was flourishing. Here is an altar with the smoke of accepted sacrifice rising in the very face of the enemy. It is a wonderful sight. We may well travel back in spirit to the tent pitched between Bethel and Ai. There we can bless the LORD, who could sustain the pilgrim father and his household in true worship in the enemy's own stronghold.
This spot becomes a fixed point in Abram's story. The rest of the chapter shows the cost of leaving it.
Pressed by circumstances, he does not consult God. He finds himself in the presence of the world, where he had sought help and refuge, and he denies his true relationship with his wife. The world cherishes him, and God at last judges that world, sending Abram out of it again. During this whole period, and until he had returned to the place from which he started, he had no altar.
- Call — God spoke first; Abram could only call on that name because that name had already called him out of Ur.
- Tent — in Haran he settled; in the promised land he only pitches a tent. He is a stranger passing through to another world.
- Altar — the LORD appeared, and worship followed. Revelation produces worship, and tent and altar together mark Abram as stranger and worshipper.
- Position — the tent stands between Bethel, "house of God," and Ai, "a heap of ruin." God's dwelling is on one side, a judged world on the other. Abram keeps both in view.
- Return — Egypt cost him the altar; not until he came back to this exact place did he have one again.
And Abram moved onward, going on still toward the south.
Commentary for this verse has not been generated yet.
And there was a famine in the land. And Abram went down to Egypt to sojourn there, for the famine was grievous in the land.
Abram has just reached the land God promised him. He has built his altar there, and now there is no food. So the verse asks a hard question: when the place God sends you to becomes a place of hunger, do you stay?
Famine does not find Abram off course. It finds him where obedience put him.
Abram had barely begun his course when he met one of those difficulties. Such trials have a special power to test whether faith is genuine, both in its quality and in its object. "And there was a famine in the land." The difficulty meets him in the very place into which the Lord had called him. It is no easy thing to keep going when we see trial and sorrow, hardship and difficulty waiting for us on the narrow way. It is harder still when we can see within reach, as Abram could, a complete escape from the very trial that is hurting us.
Abram had already built his altar here. That did not spare him.
But he is no sooner in the land than trial comes, and his young faith is put to the proof. He had already built an altar, but worship never rules out trial. In fact, the place of worship is always where faith is tested. But faith is worth little unless it is tested. When it comes out of the furnace, it is more precious than gold (1 Peter 1:7).
Scripture records no prayer and no word from the Lord before this journey.
Did he ask Jehovah before going there? Did he spread the circumstances of the land before Him? Not a word is said to suggest it... he goes unbidden into the place of the world's plenty. "There was famine in the land." Why did he not lay it all before Jehovah? Canaan was certainly not yet what it should be according to God; but had God not called him there? And could He not keep him there? Abram goes down to Egypt to stay there without a word of guidance from Jehovah. It was the direction of common sense. God records this fact openly. He never hides the truth, even when it shames those He loves.
One writer sets Abram beside Joseph, who also ended up in Egypt.
Egypt was a snare to Abraham, and his stay in Egypt brought him only sorrow and shame. With Joseph, however, it brought blessing and glory. Why the difference? Is it not that in Abraham's case he "went down into Egypt to sojourn there" (Gen. 12:10), while Joseph was "brought" into Egypt? One went there in unbelief and self-will. The other was brought there according to the settled purpose and foreknowledge of God.
The two lands got their water in different ways.
Canaan was a land entirely dependent on showers from heaven. Nearby was Egypt, with its great river and its channels cut from that river to water the farmland. It was a land watered by the foot, a place where man could manage things himself.
Abram left a land that leans on God for one that runs itself. Yet God was not short of supply.
Egypt represents the world with its resources. Scripture does not say that God commanded Abram to go down there. Indeed, He could have sustained His servant in a famine just as well as in plenty.
He escaped the famine. He also stopped worshipping.
Down in Egypt we have no altar, and no calling on the name of the Lord. God takes care of him and watches over him, but Abram is no worshipper there, not until he gets back. He goes down to Egypt, forced, as people say, by circumstances, not in the place of dependence or communion.
And the first wrong step made room for the next.
This behaviour was the result of his being in a wrong position. Had he stayed in the place to which God had called him, there would have been no need to deny his wife. But as usually happens, one wrong step led to another. He went into Egypt through fear of the famine, and there he denied his wife through fear of death.
The story does not end in Egypt.
This beautiful chapter shows us the man of faith recovering himself. He recovers through the faithfulness and loving-kindness of God, who never lets such a man wander far or stay away long. Egypt's gold and silver, its flocks and herds, could not satisfy Abram for long while he had no tent and no altar. So once more, with the renewed energy of faith, he rises from the dust of Egypt and retraces his steps to the land of promise.
- Test. Famine met Abram inside the land God gave him. The place of worship is where faith gets tested.
- Step. Scripture records no prayer before he left. He followed common sense: he went to Egypt, while Joseph was brought there.
- Escape. Canaan lived on rain from heaven; Egypt was the land man could manage himself. Yet God could have fed him through the famine.
- Cost. In Egypt he had no altar and no worship, and one fearful step led straight to the next: fear of famine became fear of death.
- Return. Egypt's wealth never satisfied a man missing his tent and altar, and God would not let him stay away long.
And it came to pass when he was come near to enter into Egypt, that he said to Sarai his wife, Behold now, I know that thou art a woman fair to look upon.
Famine drove Abram out of the land God had given him and down toward Egypt. This verse catches him at the border with a plan already forming in his mind. His words to Sarai about her beauty are the first sound of fear in the man called to walk by faith.
The trouble starts before the border. Abram had already left the place of promise, and these words are the fruit of that move.
In Abraham's history the test came in the form of a famine. It was a severe test, for "the famine was severe in the land." If the LORD allows the famine, the LORD can surely meet the needs of His own in the famine. However, under the pressure of his need, Abraham allows the circumstances to come between his soul and the LORD. Instead of calling upon the LORD, he followed plain reason, or common sense. For a time he stepped out of the path of faith and "went down into Egypt."
The fear surfaces as Egypt comes into view. Nothing here records Abram asking God about any of it.
Abram felt the famine to be severe. But we find no reference to God, no turning back to Him, no directions from Him, no exercise of faith. There was no previous direction for this. The fact is all we have — Abram went down into Egypt. Sadly, all too true. But was the God of Abram near? He had not asked this, but was acting on his own prudence and reasoning. Fear of the Egyptians came upon him as he drew near their land.
A man off the ground of faith does not just stall. He sinks below the standards anyone would expect of him.
How solemn it is when a saint takes the downward path and keeps to it! He has left the land that Jehovah had shown him and given to his descendants. The famine distresses him just like any Gentile. He heads for a country where there was plenty — Egypt, a picture of the world, as Canaan is of heaven — and he goes without a word from God. Now, further, having put himself into these circumstances of nature, he falls even from its ordinary decencies.
Sarai really was Abram's half-sister, so the plan felt safe to him.
The simple trick that Abram suggested to Sarai was not an outright lie. Sarai was his half-sister, as we find in Genesis 20:12. Yet it ended in disaster. It was just that kind of half-truth, or half-lie, which has so often been a snare to true saints of God. Men of the world may do such things and seem to come out ahead. But if saints of God stoop to that level, they are always losers in the end.
Abram's plan was meant to keep himself safe. It handed Sarai to Pharaoh.
Had Abram intended this? No! It was an unexpected result. It was unbelief, which continually produces in judgment the evil which it seeks to avoid. The sons of men would build a tower so they would not be scattered abroad, and the Lord scattered them because they built it. Abram feared that Pharaoh would take his wife, so he says she is his sister — as if God would not preserve him. And so Pharaoh takes her into his house. But it was the first step that was wrong — Abram went down into Egypt.
Egypt cost Abram the two things that had marked his life in Canaan.
Abram learnt that there could be no tent or altar in Egypt. Only faith can enable a man to raise an altar or pitch a tent. But in Egypt all is sight and not faith. So the moment Abram set foot there he stopped showing the genuine fruits of faith — yes, he let go of the very principle that led him to leave the land of promise. At the same time it led him to give up his character as a stranger and a worshipper.
The failure of the man famous for faith follows a pattern.
Here is a remarkable fact, seen in the history of the greatest saints of God. Their most striking failure appears in the very thing for which they were best known. Moses, the meekest man in all the earth, spoke rashly. Job, the model of patience, cursed his day. Abraham, the father of the faithful, carried in his heart for many a long day and through many a changing scene a root of unbelief.
- Step. Abram made the wrong move before he said a word. Famine came, and he reasoned his way to Egypt without asking God.
- Fear. Off that ground, fear met him at the border, and Sarai's beauty looked to him like a threat to his own life.
- Half-truth. His words were true and dishonest at once — the half-lie that has trapped many who would never tell an outright one.
- Reversal. Unbelief hands us the very evil we schemed to escape: Abram tried to save himself with a half-truth and lost his wife to Pharaoh's house.
- Loss. Egypt had no tent and no altar for him — he gave up both the stranger and the worshipper.
And it will come to pass when the Egyptians see thee, that they will say, She is his wife; and they will slay me, and save thee alive.
Abram's fear at the Egyptian border was not a sudden emergency. It came out of a choice he had already made. The famine drove him where God had never told him to go, and the danger he now dreads is one he walked into himself.
God had called Abram, and he was greatly blessed when he answered that call. Above all he was the man of faith, yet Scripture does not hide his times of weakness and failure from us. God had called him to Canaan, not to Egypt. Yet when the famine came, he does not seem to have asked God what to do. Down to Egypt he went. So he escaped the famine, no doubt, but he ran into troubles his faith was not able to meet.
One fear leads to the next, and both go back to the place Abram left.
It is true that he acted this way because he was in the wrong position. Had he stayed in the place God called him to, he would have had no need to deny his wife. But as usually happens, one wrong step led to another. He went into Egypt because he feared the famine. Once there, he denies his wife because he fears death.
Sarai really was Abram's half-sister, so what he asks her to say is not an outright lie. That is what makes it so easy to use — and so costly.
The simple trick Abram suggested to Sarai was not an outright lie, since Sarai was his half-sister, as we find in Genesis 20:12. Yet it ended in disaster. It was just the sort of half-truth, or half-lie, that has so often trapped true people of God. Men of the world may do such a thing and seem to gain by it. But when God's people stoop to that level, they lose in the end.
Notice who the plan protects and who pays for it. The words "they will let you live" sound generous, but the plan keeps Abram safe by putting Sarai at risk.
He goes down to Egypt without the Lord directing his way, since he seems not to have called on His name. And in Egypt, sad to say, the father of the faithful uses words meant to mislead. His one aim is to protect himself at his wife's expense. That is no noble place for a husband, and no worthy use to make of his wife. But this is what happens when a man who should be walking in faith slips back onto the slippery paths of his own fears and the world's favours.
Once he steps off the path God set for him, he has nothing left to lean on but himself.
He has taken a position where he can no longer count on God to keep him safe. Now he has only his own resources to meet this new difficulty. Left to himself, he sinks below the level of the world and acts out a lie.
Abram hides his marriage. One writer sees the same instinct in any believer who is in the wrong place.
How sadly we too can fall into deception because we are in the wrong place! Sarai pictures the covenant of grace (Gal. 4:22-28), and she belonged to Abram, the man of faith. Grace cannot belong to the godless world, though the world may admire grace as a true and beautiful principle. But when believers get into wrong company, they will always in some way deny their true relationship with God — a relationship that rests entirely on His grace in Christ Jesus. How much safer and happier is the path of simple, steady faith!
Abram planned to keep Sarai out of Pharaoh's reach. His plan is what put her there.
Had Abram meant this to happen? No! He never expected it. It was unbelief, and unbelief keeps bringing down on itself, as judgment, the very evil it is trying to avoid. Men once built a tower so that they would not be scattered over the earth, and the Lord scattered them because they built it. Abram is afraid Pharaoh will take his wife, so he says she is his sister — as if God would not keep him safe. And so Pharaoh takes her into his house. But the first step was the wrong one: Abram went down into Egypt.
Abram's plan failed. God's care did not.
What wonderful grace to Abraham! God always delights to rebuke His people's fears as well as to answer their faith, and He covered His erring servant with the shield of His powerful protection. Behind that shield, which nothing could pierce, both Abraham's life and Sarah's virtue were kept safe... Abraham had clearly left himself open in all this. So, although God protects him, He still allows Pharaoh to rebuke him.
- Step — The first wrong move was going down to Egypt without asking God. Every later fear grew out of it.
- Slide — Fear of famine became fear of death, and one wrong step led to another.
- Sister — Saying she was his sister was a half-truth. Half-truths cost God's people more than they gain.
- Snare — Unbelief hands you the very thing you ran from. Abram feared Pharaoh would take his wife, and his own words gave her to Pharaoh.
- Shield — God covered His failing servant anyway, keeping Abram's life and Sarah's honour safe. Then He let Pharaoh give the rebuke Abram had earned.
Say, I pray thee, thou art my sister, that it may be well with me on thy account, and my soul may live because of thee.
Abram had left the land God promised him and gone down to Egypt for help. There, afraid for his own life, he asked his wife to call herself his sister — and commentators ask how such words could come from the man called the father of the faithful.
The failure did not begin with these words. It began with the journey.
But it was the first step that was wrong — Abram went down into Egypt. He went down without God, out of the land of faith and promise. He could not expect to meet God there, for God could not bless unbelief — though He might still judge the sin that acted wrongly within it. His heart did not know Him in power there. And since he had to act on something, he acts carefully on his own resources. But just as he had departed from faith in God, so he departed from guarding his wife's place with her true husband. And the world rewarded him for his unfaithfulness.
The words were not a flat lie. That is what made them dangerous.
The simple trick that Abram suggested to Sarai was not a downright lie. Sarai really was his half-sister, as we find in Genesis 20:12. Yet it ended in disaster. It was just the sort of half-truth, or half-lie, that has so often trapped God's true people. Men of the world may do such a thing and seem to gain by it. But when God's people stoop to that level, they always lose in the end.
The aim was Abram's own safety and Abram's own life. The cost fell on Sarai.
He goes down without the LORD directing his way, since he seems not to have called on His name. And in Egypt, sad to say, the father of the faithful is guilty of misleading words. His only purpose is to protect himself at his wife's expense. That is not a noble place for a husband, nor a worthy use to make of his wife. But so it is when a man who ought to have been walking in faith falls back on the slippery paths of his own fears and the world's favours.
Abram feared Pharaoh would take his wife. The plan designed to prevent that is what handed her over.
Unbelief carries its own judgment. Again and again it leads into the very evil a person is trying to avoid. As it has been said, "The sons of men would build a tower so that they would not be scattered abroad, and the LORD scattered them because they built it. Abram, feared Pharaoh would take his wife, so he says she is his sister — as if God would not protect him — and so Pharaoh takes her into his house."
Abram's plan collapsed, but Sarai was not lost. The LORD struck Pharaoh and his house with great plagues because of her.
What marvellous grace to Abraham! God always delights to rebuke His people's fears, as well as to answer their faith. He covered His erring servant with the shield of His powerful protection. Behind that shield, Abraham's life and Sarah's virtue were both kept safe, while God's righteous rod fell heavily on the house of Egypt's king.
Rescue is not the same as repentance. Notice what Abraham never says, even after Pharaoh's rebuke.
Abraham was moving in the wrong direction when he went down into Egypt for help. So he did not show the fineness of conscience that would have told him this holding back of the truth was morally unsound… The LORD struck Pharaoh's house because Pharaoh had taken Sarah into it, and Pharaoh rebuked Abraham for what he had done. Yet Abraham said nothing at all about the deliberate agreement he had made with his wife to keep back part of the truth. He took the rebuke without a word and went on his way. But the root of the evil remained in his heart.
While Abram stayed in Egypt, one mark of his earlier walk was missing.
Pressed by circumstances, he does not consult God. He finds himself in the presence of the world, where he had sought help and refuge, and he denies his true relationship with his wife… All that time, and until he had returned to the place he started from, he had no altar. When he left Egypt and returned to his life as a stranger in Canaan, he had what he had before. But he must return first to the same place and find his altar again.
- Step — The lie was not the first fault. Abram went down to Egypt without consulting God, and once out of the path of faith he had only his own resources to act on.
- Half-truth — Sarai really was his half-sister, so the words were not quite a lie. That is why such words trap people. The world may seem to gain by them, but God's people lose in the end.
- Self — The plan's whole aim was that it might go well with Abram, and his wife paid the price.
- Backfire — Fearing Pharaoh would take Sarai, he said the very thing that caused Pharaoh to take her.
- Grace — God shielded them both and struck Pharaoh's house instead. But the root of the evil stayed unconfessed, and Abram had no altar until he came back to where he began.
And it came to pass when Abram came into Egypt, that the Egyptians beheld the woman that she was very fair.
Abram enters Egypt, and the very thing he feared begins to happen: the Egyptians notice his wife. Commentators trace the trouble back past this moment, to the step into Egypt itself.
One writer traces everything back to the first step.
But it was the first step that was wrong — Abram went down into Egypt. He went down without God, out of the land of faith and promise. He could not expect to meet God there. God could not bless unbelief, though He might still judge the sin that acted wrongly in it. His heart did not know Him in power there. He had to act on something, so he acted carefully on his own resources. But he had departed from faith in God, and faithfulness to his wife's true position with her real husband departed too. He was blessed in the world — yes, and by the prince of this world — for his unfaithfulness.
Abram's plan aimed to keep Sarai out of danger. It delivered her straight into it. One commentator sets this beside the tower of Babel, where the same reversal happened.
Unbelief carries its own judgment. It constantly leads into the very evil one seeks to avoid. As it has been said, "The sons of men would build a tower so that they would not be scattered abroad, and the Lord scattered them because they built it. Abram fears that Pharaoh will take his wife, so he says she is his sister — as if God would not preserve him. And so Pharaoh takes her into his house."
One writer reads the couple as a picture of Christ and the church. The denial of that bond is the heart of the failure.
The consequence came at once. He denied the holy separation from the world, and the union with Christ, that belonged to the church. She was his sister, not his wife. That may be true in one sense, but it was deadly in what it really meant for the faith of God's chosen. She was very beautiful to look at, for God had put His beauty upon her. She was His daughter, the object of His love, and also the bride of Christ the Son. She was admired in the world.
Abram had not made up the word "sister". That is what made it so dangerous.
The simple trick Abram suggested to Sarai was not an outright lie. Sarai really was his half-sister, as we find in Genesis 20:12. Yet it worked out terribly. It was just that kind of half-truth, or half-lie, which has so often been a snare to true saints of God. Men of the world may do such things and appear to gain by it. But if saints of God come down to that level, they are always losers in the end.
Abram's plan protected him and exposed her. Another writer follows that self-protection through to any believer who blends in with the world.
We see in all this that Abraham is thinking only of himself. He is not trying to protect Sarai. He is ready to sacrifice her to save himself. … You will find that if you come down to the level of the world, and get on easy terms with the men of the world, your lips will pick up the language of the world. Then you will be ashamed to confess your true relationship to Christ. One sad result of this denial of relationship was that Sarai ended up in the house of Pharaoh. What a difference from being in the house of God! The way to get the world's admiration is to deny your relationship to Christ.
Abram came out of Egypt richer than he went in. That is the warning.
He had gone down into Egypt at the outset, when there was a famine in the land. While Sarah was in "the house of Pharaoh" he acquired cattle and Egyptian riches in abundance. A man may get what satisfies his nature, and seem to be doing very comfortably, while he is far from God. But he had no altar in Egypt. Every camel and ox that came in should have broken his heart, and made him feel where he and his wife were.
One writer sets this scene inside a longer conflict. The promised line itself was the target.
For a long time there was no clue to show which line the promised seed would come through. Then Abram was called, and Satan fixed his eye on him at once. He tried on three different occasions to swamp the separated line with the nations outside. Twice Sarah was exposed: first in the house of Pharaoh, then in the house of Abimelech. His third attempt, with the same aim, was with Rebecca… All this was to prevent the coming of the true Seed.
- Step. The failure did not start with the Egyptians' stare. It started at the border, when Abram went down into Egypt without God.
- Fear. Unbelief produces the very danger it schemes to escape — the plan to save Sarai is what put her in Pharaoh's house.
- Denial. The way to the world's admiration is to deny your relationship to Christ. A half-truth is enough to do it.
- Gain. Egypt paid well and left him with no altar, so that every new possession should have been a wound.
- Target. Sarah in Pharaoh's house was one move in a longer conflict, aimed at the line through which the promised Seed would come.
And the princes of Pharaoh saw her, and praised her to Pharaoh; and the woman was taken into Pharaoh's house.
Abram's half-truth now bears fruit: the wife he called his sister ends up in the king's house. What happens when a step taken for safety hands the thing we love most to the world?
Verse 15 is not where the trouble started. Commentators trace it back to a famine, and to a decision made without reference to God.
In Abraham's history the test came in the form of a famine. It was a severe test, for "the famine was severe in the land." If the LORD allows the famine, the LORD can surely meet the needs of His own in the famine. But under the pressure of his need, Abraham lets the circumstances come between his soul and the LORD. Instead of calling on the LORD, he followed mere reason, or common sense. For a time he stepped out of the path of faith and "went down to Egypt." Instead of counting on God to sustain him, he goes down to the world for help.
Abram called Sarai his sister so that this would not happen. One writer sees the same pattern in an earlier story.
It was unbelief, which constantly produces in judgment the very evil it seeks to avoid. The sons of men wanted to build a tower so that they would not be scattered abroad, and the Lord scattered them because they built it. Abram feared that Pharaoh would take his wife, so he says she is his sister — as if God would not preserve him. And therefore Pharaoh takes her into his house. But it was the first step that was wrong: Abram went down to Egypt.
The next verse records that Abram was treated well and grew wealthy. That prosperity is read here not as approval but as an accusation, because in Egypt he built nothing to God.
A man may get what satisfies nature, and seem to be going on very comfortably, when far off from God. But he had no altar in Egypt. Every camel and ox that came in ought to have broken his heart, and made him feel where he himself and his wife were.
Another writer weighs the same gain against the shame attached to it:
Everything now flourishes outwardly. Abram had never been so rich… But how was it all gained? Oh, if only Abram had come before the Lord now! If he had placed himself before Him who appeared to him, every single thing he gained would have been a wound in his heart. And the wound would have been sharper still, because it came through denying his wife.
One writer reads Abram and Sarai here as a picture of Christ and the church. The husband hid the true bond, and the wife ended up in the world's house.
Pressed by circumstances, he does not consult God. He finds himself in the presence of the world, where he has sought help and refuge. And he denies his true relationship with his wife… The world cherishes him, and God at last judges that world, sending Abram out from it again. During this whole period, until he returned to the place from which he started, he had no altar. What a warning for Christians about the relationship of the church with Christ! And however much the world may be a help to the church, we cannot keep that relationship when we seek the world's help.
God does not leave Sarai there. He acts, but in a way that spares Abram nothing.
The Lord dealt in His own wonderful way. He did not strike Abram, or even thin down Abram's servants. Instead, "He afflicted Pharaoh and his house with great plagues." … The righteous government of God was at work. Pharaoh knew well enough that he had no right to take the woman, even if she were Abram's sister. He was using his position to claim what did not belong to him. … If Pharaoh was plagued, Abram was put to shame. The world itself reproaches Abram. And what can he say? He came without God, and he went without honour.
Abram feared Pharaoh, and one writer points out how needless that fear turned out to be.
Abram also finds that his fears were groundless. Pharaoh had a proper respect for the marriage bond, as many unsaved people do today. This is a case of an unbeliever acting more honourably than a believer. … While Pharaoh gives Sarai back to Abram, he does not expect Abram to stay there. He tells him to "take her, and go" (v. 19), and "they sent him on his way with his wife and all that he had" (v. 20). By this time Abram would surely realise that Egypt was not the place for him. God had brought him to this point of realisation, for it is only His working that brings about restoration.
- Step — The famine was the test. Abram never asked whether God could keep him there. Verse 15 is the fruit of that first wrong move.
- Fear — Unbelief hands over the very thing it tries to protect. He lied to keep his wife, and lost her to Pharaoh's house.
- Gain — Egypt paid him well, and he had no altar there. Prosperity gained away from God should have wounded him, not comforted him.
- Shame — God shielded Sarai and struck Pharaoh, yet let the king deliver the rebuke. He came without God and went without honour.
- Return — The world sent him out; God was behind it. Restoration is His work, and it leads back to the altar he left.
And he treated Abram well on her account; and he had sheep, and oxen, and he-asses, and bondmen, and bondwomen, and she-asses, and camels.
Abram's detour into Egypt ends with him richer than he has ever been. Pharaoh gave him sheep, oxen, donkeys, servants and camels, because Sarai was now in the royal house. One uncomfortable question hangs over the verse: what does it mean when a believer's wealth grows at the very moment his faith has failed?
The gifts came out of the half-truth Abram and Sarai had agreed on. Wealth like this says nothing about the state of a man's soul.
Pharaoh enriched Abram for Sarai's sake, giving him sheep, oxen, donkeys, camels and servants (v. 16). A believer who mingles with the world and compromises his testimony for Christ in this way may often prosper materially. But should this not have greatly troubled Abram's conscience? Was he not also deeply disturbed to have his wife welcomed into the house of another man? Here were complications he had clearly not expected, and he found himself helpless to get out of them.
The list of livestock and servants is not a reward but a receipt. Each item bore the mark of who gave it, and of what Abram gave up to get it.
He had denied the bond, and given up what was essential in their relationship. By that he gained plenty and ease from the hand of the prince of this world: "he had sheep, oxen, male donkeys, male servants, female servants, female donkeys, and camels." But was this any comfort to him? … Every camel, every servant, every ox passed before his eyes with the stamp of Pharaoh's kindness on it. How each one must have struck Abram's heart with the thought, "But where is my wife? I have sold my wife for this!"
Before Egypt, Abram had a tent and an altar — the marks of a man passing through and a man who worshipped. In Egypt he keeps neither.
But Abram leaves this land. He gives way, for the moment, to the heavy trial, and turns his steps down to Egypt, leaving behind him his tent and altar. There he obtained ease and luxury. He escaped, no doubt, the severe trial he had suffered under in the land of promise. But he lost, for the time, his worship and his place as a stranger — things that should always be dearest to the heart of a pilgrim. Egypt would give nothing to Abram unless he sacrificed his character both as a stranger and as a worshiper of God.
Verse 16 does not close the account. What Abram gathered in Egypt travelled back with him and shaped his household for years.
It was in the land of Egypt that Pharaoh treated him well for Sarah his wife's sake — a shameful affair. For her sake "he had sheep, oxen … and camels" (Genesis 12:16). Hagar the Egyptian (Genesis 16:3) later caused such sorrow and trouble in his household, and became the mother of Ishmael. Was she one of those "maidservants" given to Abraham for Sarah's sake in Egypt? It seems very likely that she was.
The same wealth later drove a wedge between Abram and his nephew Lot, who had been travelling with him.
In the case of Abraham and Lot, their material riches became the occasion of division. We may well ask, "Where were these riches acquired?" When Abraham first entered the path of faith, and Lot went with him, they took "all their substance." But it caused no strife (Gen. 12:5). In Egypt, however, Abraham acquires great wealth, so that after his restoration we read that he was "very rich in livestock, in silver, and in gold."
Some writers read the episode as more than one man's failure. Abram denied his true relationship with his wife to stay safe among strangers. That denial becomes a pattern.
Pressed by circumstances, he does not consult God. He finds himself in the presence of the world, where he has sought help and refuge. He denies his true relationship with his wife — just as has happened in the case of the church. The world cherishes him, and God at last judges that world and sends Abram out from it again. During this whole period, and until he had returned to the place he started from, he had no altar. … And however much the world may be a help to the church, we cannot keep up this relationship when we seek that help.
The verse leaves the reader with a choice between two ways of living.
Here then is the question for the Christian. Which shall I have — the gold and silver, the flocks and herds, the present ease and wealth of Egypt, or the tent and altar of "the land of promise"? Which shall I have: the earthly ease and delight of the world, or a peaceful, holy walk with God here and eternal blessedness and glory afterwards? We cannot have both, for "If anyone loves the world, the love of the Father is not in him."
- Gain. Abram leaves Egypt richer than he arrived. Wealth can follow compromise as easily as it follows obedience.
- Cost. The livestock came from Pharaoh because Sarai was in Pharaoh's house; every animal reminded him of what he had traded away.
- Loss. In Egypt he had no tent and no altar. The wealth came in where worship and pilgrim life went out.
- Carryover. Egypt's gifts followed him home — most likely Hagar among the maidservants, who later brought sorrow into his household.
- Choice. You cannot have both Egypt's ease and the tent and altar of the land of promise. The verse asks which one you are collecting.
And Jehovah plagued Pharaoh and his house with great plagues because of Sarai Abram's wife.
Abram had gone down to Egypt to escape a famine, passed his wife off as his sister, and lost her to Pharaoh's house. He could do nothing to undo it, so God acted — and the blow fell on the ruler who took her, not on the man who lied. (Older translations say "plagued" where the ESV says "afflicted.")
Abram had failed badly, and he had to live with what his failure cost. Commentators point to this verse as proof that God does not give up on His people when they break down.
Yet, despite all failure, God is faithful to His own. God's gifts and calling are never taken back. God does not give up His people when they break down. He acts on our behalf, though in the way He governs us we have to suffer for our folly. So God acted on behalf of His failing servant.
The blow could have fallen on Abram's own household. It did not, and Pharaoh was no innocent party.
Still, the Lord dealt in His own wonderful way. He did not strike Abram, or even cut down the number of Abram's servants. Instead, "he plagued Pharaoh and his house with great plagues." How striking the ways of the Lord are, and how full of instruction they are for us! The righteous government of God was at work. Pharaoh knew well enough that he had no right to take the woman, even if she were Abram's sister. He was taking advantage of his position to claim what did not belong to him.
The reason God gives is a marriage. Commentators set this verse in a chain: God has guarded marriage at every stage of His dealings with people, long before He gave any law.
Marriage was God's provision for His creatures. He set it up before the Fall, and He continued it afterwards. Before the law, He upheld it as something no one may break (Gen. 12:17; 20:3). Under the law, He guarded it with direct commands (Ex. 20:14, 17). The Lord reaffirmed how holy it is (Matt. 19:3-9), and the New Testament declares it honourable for everyone (Heb. 13:4).
Protection here is not approval. God shielded Abram and Sarai, then let the consequences of Abram's scheme come back on him.
"And the Lord plagued Pharaoh and his house with great plagues because of Sarai, Abram's wife." What marvellous grace to Abraham! God always delights to rebuke His people's fears as well as to answer their faith. He covered His straying servant with the shield of His powerful protection. That shield kept both Abraham's life and Sarah's virtue safe, while the Lord's righteous rod fell heavily on the house of Egypt's king… Abraham had plainly exposed himself in all this. So although God protects him, He still allows Pharaoh to rebuke him.
The plagues woke Pharaoh up, and the man who did not know God ended up speaking the truth to the man who did.
The Lord stepped in so powerfully with the plagues on Pharaoh's house that even that pagan king woke up to the facts and acted rightly. And not only so, but he also rebuked Abram. Now it is a sorry situation when a man of the world can rightly rebuke a man of faith. But so it was here, and so, sadly, it has too often been since. Let us all be concerned that we do not find ourselves in such a situation.
The truth came out, but not from Abram. Commentators read that exposure as a mercy for him, not a punishment.
But the Lord stepped in with grace and sent great plagues on Pharaoh and his household (v. 17). We are not told whether Pharaoh asked why the plagues came, but he did find out that Sarai was Abram's wife. Whether or not we are willing to confess the truth, God will certainly bring it out. This is a great mercy for the child of God.
Pharaoh sends Abram out of Egypt, and that is exactly what Abram needed.
Pharaoh gives Sarai back, but he does not expect Abram to stay. He tells him to "take her, and go" (v. 19), and sends him away with his wife and all that he had (v. 20). By this time Abram would surely realise that Egypt was not the place for him. God had brought him to see it, for only His working brings restoration.
- Failure. Abram's lie put his wife in Pharaoh's house, and the trouble he caused fell on the man he had deceived.
- Faithfulness. God does not drop His people when they break down — He acted for a failing servant.
- Justice. This was God's righteous government, not favouritism. Pharaoh used his position to take what was not his, and God guards marriage as something no one may break.
- Rebuke. A shield is not a pardon. God let a man of the world tell a man of faith the truth about himself.
- Restoration. God brings hidden things into the open, and He sent Abram out of Egypt — the mercy that set him on the way back.
And Pharaoh called Abram, and said, What is this thou hast done to me? Why didst thou not tell me that she was thy wife?
Abram lied about his wife to save his own life. Now the king of Egypt questions him about it, and the rebuke comes from the man Abram wronged rather than from God.
Pharaoh's question lands on the lie. But the lie was not where the trouble began.
Did Abram intend this? No! It was an unexpected turn of events. It was unbelief, which always produces in judgment the very evil it tries to avoid. Abram, afraid that Pharaoh would take his wife, says she is his sister — as if God would not protect him — and so Pharaoh takes her into his house. But it was the first step that was wrong: Abram went down into Egypt.
Pharaoh names the hidden marriage. Abram hid the one bond he should have guarded, and he hid it out of fear for himself.
Let us not forget that if nature rules us, it will also expose us. We see in all this that Abraham is thinking only of himself. He is not trying to protect Sarai. He is ready to sacrifice her to save himself. Where was the jealous care that Sarai should stay true to her relationship, and to the faithful confession of it? … The way to get the world's admiration is to deny your relationship to Christ.
God had already acted before Pharaoh spoke. Two things are true at once: God shields Abram, and Pharaoh shames him.
What marvellous grace to Abraham! God always delights to rebuke His people's fears as well as to answer their faith. He covered His failing servant with the shield of His powerful protection. Behind that unbreakable shield, Abraham's life and Sarah's virtue were both safe. And God's righteous rod struck the house of Egypt's king hard… Abraham had clearly exposed himself in all this matter. So although God protects him, He still allows Pharaoh to rebuke him. When the man of God steps off the path of faith and honest living, he at once exposes himself to the men of this world… If Abraham had stayed in Canaan, Pharaoh would never have reproved him in Egypt.
Pharaoh had a real grievance, and Abram has no reply.
The righteous government of God was at work. Pharaoh knew well enough that he had no right to take the woman, even if she were Abram's sister. He was taking advantage of his position to claim what did not belong to him. The result is that, struck by the clear hand of God, Pharaoh calls Abram and finds out the truth. Now it was Abram's turn to feel it. If Pharaoh was plagued, Abram was put to shame — what a humiliation for him! The world itself reproaches Abram. And what can he say? He came without God and he went without honour.
The rebuke carries a second surprise. The danger Abram feared was never there.
This is another result of his failure to walk in faith: he deals unfairly with an unbeliever. So God uses the unbeliever to reprove him. How wonderfully wise our God and Father is. He did not reprove Abram Himself. He left this in the hands of the unbeliever whom Abram had wronged… Abram also finds that his fears were groundless. Pharaoh had a proper respect for the marriage bond, as many unsaved people do today. This is a case of an unbeliever acting more honourably than a believer.
Egypt made Abram rich. His worship, meanwhile, stopped.
Through this whole period, until he returned to the place he had started from, he had no altar. When he left Egypt and returned to his life as a stranger in Canaan, he had what he had before. But he must first go back to the same place and find his altar again.
The way back is God's work as much as Abram's.
This beautiful chapter shows us the man of faith recovering himself. He recovers through the faithfulness and loving-kindness of God, who never lets such a man wander far or stay away long. The gold and silver, the flocks and herds of Egypt could not long satisfy Abram while he was without his tent and his altar. So once more, in the renewed energy of faith, he rises out of the dust of Egypt. He retraces his steps to the land of promise. Happy recovery!
- Step — The lie was not the first mistake. Going down to Egypt was, and unbelief brought about the very danger it was trying to dodge.
- Silence — Abram denied the bond he was meant to guard. He thought only of himself, and had no answer when the truth came out.
- Shield — God protected Sarai and Abram anyway. Failure did not cancel His care — but it did not cancel the consequences either.
- Shame — God handed the rebuke to the man Abram had wronged. Pharaoh proved more honourable than the man of faith.
- Return — Egypt gave riches but no altar. The way home led back to the exact place where Abram left his worship behind.
Why didst thou say, She is my sister, so that I took her as my wife. And now, behold, there is thy wife take [her], and go away.
Famine drove Abram down to Egypt, where he asked Sarai to say she was his sister. Here the cover story collapses: a pagan king summons the man God had called, hands back his wife, and tells him to leave.
What God did to Pharaoh's household forced this question out of him. God struck the king, not the man at fault.
The Lord dealt in His own wonderful way. He did not strike Abram, or even reduce the number of Abram's servants. Instead, "He plagued Pharaoh and his house with great plagues." How striking the ways of the Lord are, and how full of instruction for us! The righteous government of God was at work. Pharaoh knew well that he had no right to take the woman, even if she had been Abram's sister. He was using his position to claim what did not belong to him. The result is that Pharaoh, struck by the clear hand of God, calls Abram and finds out the truth. Now it was Abram's turn to feel. … He came without God, and he went without honour.
The half-truth was meant to keep Sarai safe. It did the opposite, and that pattern is not unique to Abram.
Unbelief carries its own judgment. It constantly leads into the very evil a person is trying to avoid. As it has been said, "The sons of men would build a tower so that they would not be scattered abroad, and the Lord scattered them because they built it. Abram, fearing that Pharaoh would take his wife, says she is his sister — as if God would not preserve him. So Pharaoh takes her into his house."
Pharaoh's own words show how needless the whole scheme was.
He also finds that his fears were groundless: Pharaoh had a proper respect for the marriage bond, as many unsaved people do today. This is a case of an unbeliever acting more honourably than a believer.
God did not deliver the reproof Himself. He let the injured party do it, and that carries its own sting.
The Lord intervened so drastically in the plaguing of Pharaoh's house that even that heathen monarch woke up to the facts of the situation and acted rightly. And not only that, he also rebuked Abram. Now it is a sorry situation when a man of the world can rightly rebuke a man of faith. But so it was here, and so, sadly, it has too often been since. Let us all be concerned that we do not find ourselves in such a situation.
The exposure traces back to a decision made long before the interview with Pharaoh.
When the man of God steps off the path of faith and Christian integrity, he at once exposes himself to the men of this world. He need not be surprised if they punish him with an unsparing hand. Had Abraham remained in Canaan, he would not have been reproved by Pharaoh in Egypt. It is far better to starve, if it must be so, in the path of obedience than to gain plenty by sacrificing faith and moral uprightness.
Pharaoh says he took Sarai as his wife. Yet two things happen at once here: her honour stays safe, and Abram walks away humiliated.
What marvellous grace to Abraham! God always delights to rebuke His people's fears as well as to answer their faith. He covered His failing servant with the shield of His powerful protection. Abraham's life and Sarah's virtue were both kept safe behind that impenetrable shield. … Abraham had clearly exposed himself in all this matter. So although God protects him, He still allows Pharaoh to rebuke him.
The command that ends the verse is a dismissal. Abram leaves Egypt not as a witness but as an embarrassment.
When the deceit comes out, the world dismisses Abraham. Pharaoh says, "Now then, here is your wife; take her, and go." And Pharaoh makes sure that he does go. How sad, when the world dismisses the people of God — not because of their faithful witness to God, but because of their own shameful conduct!
Yet the expulsion serves God's purpose. Leaving Egypt puts Abram back on the road home.
The king sends him away from the place he should never have gone to… The world sends him back to his true place. So God often uses the world today to rebuke the unfaithfulness of His own people. … As a result, Abram gets back "to the place of the altar which he had made there at the first; and there Abram called on the name of Jehovah." He is restored to worship. In Egypt he did not call on the name of Jehovah, for he had no altar there.
- Downward — the rebuke began with a step: leaving Canaan for Egypt uninvited. Stay in the place of obedience and there is no Pharaoh to answer to.
- Backfired — unbelief walks into the danger it plans to escape. The story invented to keep Sarai safe is what put her in the king's house.
- Reversed — a pagan king respected marriage more than the man of faith did. The rebuke came from the man Abram had wronged.
- Shielded — God guarded Sarai's honour and Abram's life. He still let Pharaoh shame him in front of the world.
- Homeward — being thrown out of Egypt was mercy in disguise. Abram had no altar there. Back in Canaan, he called on the name of the Lord again.
And Pharaoh commanded [his] men concerning him, and they sent him away, and his wife, and all that he had.
Abram had gone down to Egypt to escape a famine. There he passed his wife off as his sister and grew rich by it. Now the king he deceived hands her back and posts an escort to march the whole household out of the country. What does it mean when the world shows a man called by God the door?
The escort is not an honour guard. Pharaoh makes sure Abram leaves, and the reason for the exit is nothing to be proud of.
When the deceit is discovered, the world dismisses Abraham. Pharaoh says, "here is your wife; take her, and go." And Pharaoh takes care that he does go, for he "gave men orders concerning him, and they sent him away with his wife and all that he had." How sad, when the world dismisses the people of God, not because of their faithful witness to God, but because of their own shameful conduct!
Abram has no answer to give. He came into Egypt by his own choice, and he leaves it humbled.
Now it was Abram's turn to feel. If Pharaoh was plagued, Abram was put to the blush: what a humiliation for him! The very world reproaches Abram. And what can he say? He came without God and he went without honour.
Pharaoh gives the command, but he is not the one moving Abram. Another hand is at work behind the order.
While Pharaoh gives Sarai back to Abram, he does not expect Abram to remain there. He tells him to "take her and go" (v. 19), and "they sent him away with his wife and all that he had" (v. 20). By this time Abram would surely realise that Egypt was not the place for him. God had brought him to this point of realisation, for it is only His working that brings about restoration.
God corrects Abram, yet He does not abandon him. The protection and the humbling come from the same hand.
What marvellous grace to Abraham! God always delights to rebuke His people's fears, just as He delights to answer their faith. He covered His erring servant with the shield of His powerful protection. Nothing could pierce that shield, and behind it Abraham's life and Sarah's virtue were both kept safe... Abraham had clearly exposed himself in all this matter. So, although God protects him, He yet allows Pharaoh to rebuke him.
"All that he had" is more than he brought in. The extra turned out to be a cost, not a gain.
God's servant seems to have acquired riches in Egypt (Gen. 13:1). But he also had shame there in denying his wife. And he got Hagar there, who brought trouble into his home. No doubt the riches of Egypt accounted for the strife that separated Lot and Abram. God allowed the failure of His servant Abram as a lesson for us, that we might rely constantly on Him and not on the resources of this present world.
Comfort and profit are no proof that a man is close to God.
A man may get what satisfies nature, and seem to be going on very comfortably, when far off from God. But he had no altar in Egypt. Every camel and ox that came in ought to have broken his heart, and made him feel where himself and his wife were.
Being sent out of Egypt is not the end of the story. The road back has one more stage.
The king sends him away from the place to which he ought never to have gone... The world sends him back to his true place. So God often now uses the world to rebuke the unfaithfulness of His own people... In the end, Abram gets back "to the place of the altar which he had made there at the first; and there Abram called upon the name of the LORD." So he is restored to worship. In Egypt he did not call on the name of the LORD, for he had no altar there. The lesson taught him here is that it is not enough to leave his own country and come into a land marked out by God. He must stay there, even though circumstances and worldly caution might persuade him to leave.
- Departure. A king he deceived escorts him out. The world dismisses him for his own conduct, not for his witness.
- Discipline. God does not scold Abram Himself. He lets the king Abram wronged do it, and He shields His failing servant at the same time.
- Deliverance. The expulsion is God's work, not Pharaoh's. Only His working brings a wanderer to the point of restoration.
- Debt. He leaves richer than he came, and Hagar comes with him. That gain later breeds strife and sorrow at home.
- Destination. Leaving Egypt is only half the journey. Abram is not restored until he stands again at the altar he built at first and calls on the name of the LORD.
And Abram went up out of Egypt, he, and his wife, and all that he had, and Lot with him, towards the south.
Genesis 13 opens with Abram walking back out of Egypt, the way he came. The verse names three things worth watching: the going up, the wealth he carries, and the nephew who follows him.
Commentators rank his going up out of Egypt with his first great step of faith.
Now I turn to this: recovery from Egypt is possible. "So Abram went up from Egypt, he and his wife and all that he had." This was a second great day in the history of Abram. The first was when he went out from Ur of the Chaldeans. This second act did not make him a man of faith. He was a man of faith before. But through it Satan was refused and overcome, and Abram became God's witness on the earth once more. He was again a witness that a man of faith could give up "his country, his kindred, and his father's house" — and now more, even all the supplies of Egypt — to walk by faith with God.
What pulls him back is the taste of what he left.
Abraham was a true man of faith. Yet like us, he sometimes breaks down on the path of faith. He had tasted the blessing of the place outside Egypt. Now nothing will satisfy his soul but getting back to the place of blessing his feet had strayed from.
God still looked after Abram in Egypt. But one thing is missing from the story there.
Down in Egypt there is no altar, and no calling on the name of the Lord. God takes care of him and watches over him. But Abram is no worshipper there, and not until he gets back. He goes down to Egypt forced, as people say, by circumstances. He is not in the place of dependence or communion. That is the character of the position he takes.
So the time in Egypt added nothing to his walk.
All the time spent in Egypt went for nothing. Abraham had to get back to the very same point from which he had turned aside, and begin again.
He does not stop once Egypt is behind him.
Like every restored soul, he retraces his path step by step. At last he is found again as a stranger and pilgrim with his tent, as a worshipper with his altar, and as a dependent man calling on the Name of the Lord.
One writer makes this a rule for us, not just a story about Abram.
If we are to be restored after failure, we must return to the place we left. Here the text stresses that this was the place where he had first pitched his tent, between Bethel and Ai. It was the place where he decided to leave his old life behind for the interests of God.
"All that he had" now meant far more than when he went down: livestock, silver, gold. One writer weighs that gain against what it cost.
The flocks he got in Egypt come home with him. The gold and the silver glitter and set off his return. But they were gifts from a land that lay outside the place where the God of glory had called him. What do we say to all this? Does the bleating and lowing of such flocks and herds sound in our ears like the soft music of a clear conscience? Does this glittering wealth shine like the presence of God, which Abraham had now lost?
Another writer asks where that wealth came from.
For Abram and Lot, their riches became the occasion of division. We may well ask, where were these riches gained? When Abram first entered the path of faith, and Lot went with him, they took "all their possessions." But that was no cause of strife. In Egypt, however, Abram gains great wealth, so that after his restoration we read, "Abram was very rich in livestock, in silver, and in gold."
The last clause is easy to skip. One writer finds Lot's whole future in it.
Here we get the secret of Lot's later instability. He seems to have gone up with Abram rather than with God. So when he parted from Abram, he had nothing to lean on. Until then he had moved under Abram's protection and guidance instead of standing before the Lord for himself. When he lost Abram, he went astray.
- Down. Egypt gave no altar and no calling on the Lord's name. God still guarded Abram there, but the whole time added nothing to his walk.
- Up. Leaving Egypt ranks with leaving Ur. It did not make Abram a man of faith. It made him God's witness again.
- Back. Real restoration walks the road back: to the tent, to the altar, to the spot where the drifting began.
- Baggage. He returns richer than he left. The wealth gained in Egypt then divides him from Lot. Gain in goods is not gain in soul.
- Others. A restored man still marks those who follow him. Lot went up with Abram rather than with God, and had nothing to stand on once Abram was gone.
And Abram was very rich in cattle, in silver, and in gold.
Genesis 13 opens with Abram coming back up out of Egypt. He is loaded with livestock, silver and gold, and this is the first time Scripture calls him rich. The question the commentators press is not how much he owned but where it came from, and what it cost him to get it.
Abram had gone down to Egypt to escape a famine, and he came back wealthier than he had ever been. One writer lists what Abram now owned, then asks the hard question.
Everything now flourishes outwardly. Abram had never been so rich. Had he ever prospered like this before? Was this not the clear blessing of the Lord? "He had sheep and oxen, and male donkeys, and male servants and female servants, and female donkeys and camels." We do not read of this in past times. But how was it all gained? Oh, if only Abram had now come before the Lord! If he had placed himself before Him who appeared to him, every single thing he had gained would have been a wound in his heart. The wound would cut deeper still, because it came through denying his wife.
Comfort and wealth can grow while a man drifts far from God. One writer points to what was missing in Egypt.
A man may get everything that satisfies his nature, and may seem to be doing very well, while he is far from God. But he had no altar in Egypt. Every camel and ox that came in ought to have broken his heart, and made him feel where he and his wife were.
Another writer sums it up. With all these riches, Abram "had one more thing that spoiled it all — a bad conscience" (Various).
One writer draws two lessons from the same increase.
But Egypt had made Abram very rich (v. 2), and Lot had prospered too. There are two distinct lessons here. As a picture, God will use even the story of our failure to bring spiritual blessing. Such is His sovereign grace. But taken literally, earthly blessings do not mean spiritual prosperity.
Abram and Lot had travelled together with property before, and it caused no trouble. The wealth that pulled them apart was of a different origin.
For Abraham and Lot, their earthly riches became the cause of division. So we may well ask, "Where did these riches come from?" When Abraham first set out on the path of faith, Lot went with him, and they took "all their substance." That caused no strife (Gen. 12:5). In Egypt, though, Abraham gains great wealth. So after his restoration we read that he "was very rich in livestock, in silver, and in gold." The wealth he gains by turning aside from the path of faith becomes a cause of strife and division between brothers. As they fight each other, these brothers stop being a witness to God in front of the Canaanites and Perizzites who lived in the land.
The cost went further than the quarrel. One writer lists everything Abram carried out of Egypt. He gained riches, but "he also had shame there in denying his wife, and he got Hagar there who brought trouble into his home" (An Outline of Sound Words).
This verse sits on the road back to the altar at Bethel, and Egypt has changed the man who returns.
When Abram had returned to the altar he had left to go southward, he again gets into worship. Here the wealth from Egypt may perhaps have led to the strife and sorrow. Even so, Abram's conduct is beautiful. It is just what you expect from a man whose portion is heavenly. If Egypt had betrayed him, it had at least taught him a lesson. Returned with this experience into communion with God, he has enough in this to give up all the rest in grace.
- Source. Abram gathered the livestock, silver and gold in Egypt, and it was there that he denied his wife. So the question to ask of wealth is not how much, but where it came from.
- Silence. Abram had no altar in Egypt. He was rich there, but he was not a worshipper, and every animal he gained marked what he had lost.
- Measure. More possessions prove nothing about spiritual health. God's grace can bring blessing even out of a believer's failure, yet earthly prosperity is not spiritual prosperity.
- Division. The property they first set out with caused no strife. The wealth picked up off the path of faith split Abram from Lot, and their quarrel spoiled their witness before the Canaanites.
- Recovery. The verse stands on the road back to Bethel. Restored to communion with God, Abram had enough in Him to give up all the rest in grace.
And he went on his journeys from the south as far as Bethel; as far as the place where his tent had been at the beginning, between Bethel and Ai;
Abram comes back up out of Egypt, and his first recorded move is backwards — from the Negeb to the exact ground between Bethel and Ai where his tent once stood. Why does the verse mark it so carefully as the same place as at the beginning?
The verse looks back: this is where his tent had been at the beginning. Commentators read that as a verdict on the detour into Egypt.
The words "beginning" and "at the first" prove that Abram had made no progress while in Egypt. All his time there was, as it were, lost. No doubt he learnt a healthy lesson. It is good when our failures teach us to distrust our own hearts, and to dread the harmful influence of the world. Abram learnt that there could be no tent or altar in Egypt. Only faith can enable a man to raise an altar or pitch a tent. In Egypt all is sight and not faith.
Egypt was not a place where God abandoned Abram. It was a place where Abram stopped worshipping.
Down in Egypt we have no altar, and no calling on the name of the Lord. God takes care of him and watches over him. But Abram is no worshipper there — not until he gets back. He goes down to Egypt forced by circumstances, as people say. He is not in the place of dependence or communion. That is the character of the position.
The verse traces a route: from the Negeb, to Bethel, then to the exact spot. The slowness matters.
As with every truly restored soul, he retraces his path step by step. At last he stands again as a stranger and pilgrim with his tent, as a worshipper with his altar, and as a dependent man calling upon the Name of the Lord.
Another writer presses the point on the conscience:
If you want thorough restoration, you must go right to the bottom of your sin and decline in the presence of God. A mere expression of sorrow and a prayer for forgiveness will not be enough. There must be real self-judgment, and a retracing of one's steps to the point of departure.
The two place names are not filler. Their meanings matter, and so does the tent standing between them.
Abraham desired no place in this world. With his tent and his altar he waited for the city which has foundations, the city God designs and builds. His tent marked him out as a pilgrim and stranger before men. His altar spoke of him as a worshipper before God. Our tent and altar must go together… Ai means "a heap of ruins," and no doubt pictures the ruin of the old creation. So Abraham pitches his tent between a judged world and Bethel, "The house of God," in view of both.
Grace moved him back, not his own resolve. And the place he returns to is more than a spot on the map.
But the grace of God leads Abram back to Bethel, "the house of God." If we are to be properly restored after failure, we must return to the place we left. Here the verse stresses that it was the place where he had first pitched his tent, between Bethel and Ai. It was the place of decision, where he left his former life behind for the interests of God. The verse stresses it further as "the place of the altar," where he had given God the positive honour that belongs to Him… Does this not tell us that we are not in true communion with God if we are away from His place for us?
One writer traces the whole detour, and marks what Abram did not need in order to recover:
Abram failed in his new place. He swerved from the revelation that had so happily shaped his walk and worship. Under the strain of a famine in the land he went down into Egypt for help. The earlier humbling was a blessing to a man whose first wrong step had led to worse. But his heart turned to Him who had rescued them, and he regains his privilege again without a fresh appearing to him.
- Departure. Abram turned aside into Egypt under a famine. "Circumstances" were no excuse; the position itself was outside dependence on God.
- Loss. "At the beginning" and "at the first" show that Egypt added nothing. There was no tent, no altar, no worship there.
- Grace. The return is God's doing, not Abram's achievement; He led him back to Bethel, "the house of God."
- Road. Restoration retraces the road step by step, back to the point of departure. It takes real self-judgment. Half a recovery is no recovery.
- Place. Back between the house of God and a heap of ruins, his tent and altar stand together again. He is a pilgrim before men and a worshipper before God.
to the place of the altar that he had made there at the first. And there Abram called on the name of Jehovah.
Abram comes up out of Egypt and keeps travelling until he stands again on the ground he left — between Bethel and Ai, where his tent had been and where he had built an altar. So what does real recovery look like after a believer has wandered? Does he start again where he fell, or is some of the old ground lost for good?
The account looks back twice. Abram's tent had been there "at the beginning," and he had made the altar there "at the first." Writers weigh those two phrases to measure what Egypt produced.
The words "beginning" and "at the first" prove that Abram had made no progress while in Egypt. All his time there was, in effect, lost. No doubt he learned a wholesome lesson. It is good when our failures teach us to distrust our own hearts and to dread the harmful influence of the world. Abram learned that there could be no tent or altar in Egypt.
Egypt has no altar in the record, and no calling on the name of the Lord. That silence does not mean God left him. But God's care and real fellowship are not the same thing.
Even Abraham had to get back to the place of the altar he had at first, and he had no altar in between. God took care of him, but that is not communion... Abraham goes to Egypt and gets into trouble. God was with him, but he never was with God; and we cannot be with God without the life of faith. We must go back the way we came, back to the place where we departed from God. A man may admit his actual sin. But to have his soul restored and get the blessing, he must go back to where his soul left God. He can have no altar anywhere else.
God does not set Abram on a lower footing than before. Writers say the standard here is God's, not ours. A conscience that has begun to work often expects less than God gives.
When a child of God has in any way declined in his spiritual condition and lost his communion, he is in great danger. Once conscience begins to work, he may fail to grasp divine grace and stop short of the proper mark of divine restoration... In the self-righteousness of our hearts, we might imagine that such a person should take a lower place than the one he held before. And so he should, if it were a question of his merit or his character. But it is altogether a question of grace. So God alone has the right to fix the standard of restoration. He states it in these words: "If you will return, O Israel, return to Me."
Three things come back into Abram's life at once: the tent, the altar, and the call on the Lord's name. Each marks something he had stopped being in Egypt.
Like every truly restored soul, he retraces his path step by step. Once again he stands as a stranger and pilgrim with his tent, as a worshipper with his altar, and as a dependent man calling on the Name of the Lord.
The place itself carries weight. There Abram had once settled whose interests he would live for.
The grace of God leads Abram back to Bethel, "the house of God." The point is that this was the place where he had first pitched his tent between Bethel and Ai — the place of decision to leave his former life behind in favour of the interests of God. There is further emphasis on it as "the place of the altar," where he had given God the positive honour that belongs to Him. Here, for the first time since he left that place, we read that he "called upon the name of the LORD."
Coming all the way back does not make sin lighter. The grace that restores also sharpens the sense of what we escaped.
The restored soul will have a very deep and keen sense of the evil it was delivered from. This will show itself in a watchful, prayerful, holy and careful spirit. We are not restored so that we may go and sin again more easily. We are restored so that we may "go and sin no more." The deeper my sense of the grace of divine restoration, the deeper my sense of its holiness.
- Departure. In Egypt there is no tent and no altar in the record. The marks of a stranger and a worshipper both disappear.
- Loss. "At the beginning" and "at the first" show he made no progress there. The time counted for nothing before God.
- Distance. God still cared for him, but care is not communion — God was with him while he was not with God.
- Return. Recovery meant going back the way he came, to the very place of departure, because there is no altar anywhere else.
- Restoration. God's standard is not a lower place but "return to Me." A soul brought all the way back becomes watchful and holy, not casual about sin.
And Lot also who went with Abram had flocks, and herds, and tents.
Genesis 13:5 looks quiet, yet it sets up a family split: Lot is named for who he travelled with, and then for what he owns. Two rich men now share one land, and their flocks will soon show what each man is.
The verse defines Lot by whom he travelled with. Writers see that description as the key to his whole story: he borrowed his faith from another man.
Lot's story is one of the saddest in Genesis. It is worth noticing today. God has revealed to us the truth of our heavenly calling, and it is plain that there are many Lots. Outwardly he was with Abraham, but at heart he was not what Abraham was. Later he was outwardly with the men of Sodom, yet he was not a Sodomite either. He is a saint untrue to his sainthood! His was a downward course. Lot merely followed Abram. Abram walked with God; Lot only walked with Abram. How easy it is to walk where another's faith leads without any exercise of conscience!
Borrowed faith holds up only as long as the lender is there.
Here we get the secret of Lot's later instability. He seems to have gone up with Abram rather than with God. So when he parted from Abram, he had nothing to lean on. Until then he had been moving under Abram's protection and guidance instead of standing directly before the Lord. When he lost Abram, he went astray.
The flocks and herds did not appear from nowhere. One writer traces them back to the journey into Egypt.
In the case of Abraham and Lot their temporal riches became the occasion of division. We may well ask: where did these riches come from? When Abraham first set out on the path of faith, Lot went with him, and they took "all their possessions." But that caused no strife (Gen. 12:5). In Egypt, however, Abraham gains great wealth. After his restoration we read that he was "very rich in livestock, in silver, and in gold."
Nothing here is sinful in itself. Wealth simply brings out what was already in each heart.
God blesses them. The land is not able to support them both, so they cannot live together (chapter 13). They have flocks, and herds, and much cattle, and there is not room for them both — they must separate. Circumstances, whatever they are (here it is God's blessings), reveal this.
Two men can look equally spiritual while nothing is at stake. Money is what tells them apart — and the neighbours are watching.
Lot made no advance in faith. As Abram's companion he claimed the same position — that of a pilgrim. But he did not have a pilgrim's ways. His herdsmen strove with Abram's herdsmen for the better pasture. Here was a sight for the Canaanite and the Perizzite, who still lived in the land! Two believers seemed to be in the same condition. Both made the same profession of obedience, leaving everything to follow God's call — and yet they cannot agree! The cause is soon seen. Where nothing disturbs it, very feeble faith can look as bright and strong as great faith. But nothing exposes the lack of faith like greed for earthly possessions, whether for ourselves or for our children.
Lot has tents. Abram has tents too — and something Lot is never said to have.
To Abram the altar and the tent were inseparable. The tent spoke of his pilgrim character, while the altar showed that his links were with God and with heaven. The God of glory had called him out of his country and away from his relatives. In obeying that call, he judged the world to be an unsuitable home. At any moment he might have to welcome heavenly visitors. Lot had never shared in this heavenly calling. And indeed the path of faith is more often walked alone than in company.
Riches did the damage. They cost Lot the one companion who kept him steady.
"Some fell among thorns." There you have the world. The Lord names "the cares of the world" first, then "the deceitfulness of riches, and the desires for other things." Lot and Abram both got rich by going down to Egypt, by unfaithfulness. They both came up with plenty. But it would have been better for Lot to lose everything than to lose Abram. He never had an altar afterwards.
- Company. Lot is introduced as the man "who went with Abram." He walked with a believer instead of with God. Borrowed faith collapses the moment the lender is gone.
- Cargo. The flocks and herds came out of Egypt. Wealth gained off the path of faith became the wedge that split the family.
- Crisis. God's blessing itself created the pressure. Prosperity does not change a heart; it uncovers one. Greed exposes weak faith faster than anything else.
- Contrast. Both men had tents. Only Abram had an altar as well — the pilgrim's tent and the worshipper's altar belong together.
- Cost. Lot would have been better off losing everything than losing Abram's company. After the separation, no altar appears in his story again.
And the land could not support them, that they might dwell together, for their property was great; and they could not dwell together.
Abram and Lot have come up out of Egypt rich. Now the very blessing God gave them drives them apart, because the land cannot carry both households. How can blessing break fellowship, and what does the break show about the two men?
The cause named here is not the servants but the possessions. One writer notes that the text says twice that the two men could not stay together.
How often the test today takes the form it did in the story of Abraham and Lot. As we read, "there was strife." We learn further that the immediate cause of the strife was their possessions. We do well to notice the twice-repeated statement that they were not able to dwell together. Notice too the deeply significant cause of the division: "for their possessions were so great." How often, since then, jealousy over one another's spiritual gifts or earthly riches has divided believers... Poverty might have led them to cling to one another; their riches became a cause of division.
Commentators differ on how to read this wealth. One calls it God's blessing, and says that circumstances of any kind only reveal what is already there.
God blesses them. The land is not able to support them so that they may dwell together. They have flocks, and herds, and much cattle, and there is not room for them both — they must separate. Circumstances, no matter what (here it is God's blessings), reveal this.
Another asks where the wealth came from. He points to Egypt, and notes that the earlier journey with all they owned caused no strife.
In the case of Abraham and Lot their earthly riches became the occasion of division. We may well ask: where did these riches come from? When Abraham first set out on the path of faith, Lot went with him, and they took "all their possessions that they had gathered." That was no cause of strife (Gen. 12:5). In Egypt, however, Abraham gains great wealth. So after his restoration we read that "he was very rich in livestock, in silver, and in gold."
The quarrel is the visible reason Lot leaves. One writer says it is not the real one.
The apparent cause of his fall was the strife between his herdsmen and those of Abraham. But the truth is this: when someone is not truly walking with a single eye and purified affections, he will find a stone to stumble over. If he does not find it at one time, he will find it at another... The strife between the herdsmen could easily have been settled without spiritual damage to either Abraham or Lot. For Abraham it only gave an opportunity to display the beautiful power of faith... But for Lot it was an opportunity to display the thorough worldliness of his heart.
The chapter also says who else lived in that land. One writer asks why we are told.
Their possessions were too great to allow them to live comfortably together. Quarrelling began between their herdsmen (v. 7). At the same time the text notes that "the Canaanites and the Perizzites were dwelling in the land." Why are we told this? Surely because they would be watching, and likely to mock at the friction between brothers — especially brothers who believed in the living God. When believers quarrel today, the world is quick to ridicule the testimony of the Lord instead of admiring it.
Abram and Lot could only keep the peace by living apart. One writer sees a warning in that remedy.
There was something very far wrong when only their separation from each other could ensure their living without strife. We can be sure that the man of faith was not absorbed in his possessions. He would never have let his flocks and herds separate him from someone he could enjoy happy fellowship with in the things of God. The sad history of Lot that follows makes it plain. The strife between the herdsmen was bound up with the difference in outlook between Abram and Lot. One had his mind on the things of God, the other on present things.
- Substance. The text names the cause: not the servants, not the land, but their great possessions. Wealth divided them where poverty would have held them together.
- Source. Commentators differ. One sees God's blessing revealing what was already there. Another traces the wealth to Egypt, so that what was gained off the path of faith is what splits the brothers.
- Surface. The quarrel was the visible reason Lot left, not the real one. A heart set on the world will always find a stone to stumble over.
- Spectators. The Canaanite and the Perizzite were living in that land and watching two men of God fall out. The world still watches, and still mocks instead of admiring.
- Separation. When peace can only be bought by parting, the fellowship had already thinned. One man's mind was on the things of God, the other's on present things. No amount of pasture could close that gap.
And there was strife between the herdsmen of Abram's cattle and the herdsmen of Lot's cattle. And the Canaanite and the Perizzite were dwelling then in the land.
This quarrel is not between enemies. It breaks out between two men of faith. And right there Scripture pauses to name who else was living in the land. Why does a fight over pasture stop to mention the Canaanite and the Perizzite?
The trouble began with blessing, not with loss. One writer traces the strife back to what the two men owned, and finds the same pattern in the church at Corinth:
We read that "there was strife," and the immediate cause was their possessions. Notice the twice-repeated statement that they were not able to live together, and the deeply significant cause of the division: their possessions were great. How often, since then, believers have been divided by jealousy over one another's spiritual gifts or earthly riches. The misuse of spiritual gifts divided the assembly at Corinth. The apostle could tell that assembly they were enriched by Him in all speech and all knowledge. Yet these very riches became a cause of strife and division. The apostle says there is envy, strife and division among them, and that they were puffed up, one against another (1 Cor. 1:5; 3:3; 4:6). Poverty might have led them to cling to one another; their riches became a cause of division.
The second half of the verse looks like a stray note about geography. One writer reads it as telling us who was watching:
The wealth of both Abram and Lot now raises a serious problem. Their possessions were too great for them to live together in comfort. Quarrelling began between their herdsmen (v.7). At the same time Scripture notes that at that time the Canaanites and the Perizzites were dwelling in the land. Are we told this because they would be watching, and likely to mock at friction between fellow believers, especially men who trusted the living God? If believers today quarrel, the world is quick to ridicule the testimony of the Lord rather than be impressed by it.
The dispute was between herdsmen, but servants tend to fight for what their masters want. One writer sees the quarrel as a symptom, and wealth as what brought a hidden weakness into the open:
Lot was a follower of Abram more than of God. The land mattered to him more than obeying God's call, and his herdsmen fought with Abram's herdsmen for the better pasture. Would they have dared to fight with Abram's herdsmen if they had not known that their own master wanted the best of the land? Here was a sight for the Canaanite and the Perizzite who still lived in the land — two believers, apparently in the same position, making the same profession of obedience in leaving all to follow God's leading, and yet they cannot agree! The cause is soon seen. When nothing disturbs us, very weak faith looks as bright and strong as great faith. But nothing exposes the lack of faith like greed for earthly possessions, whether for ourselves or for our children.
This verse names the Perizzites, yet they are missing from the earlier list of nations descended from Canaan. That gap may tell us something about who they were:
We do not hear of Perizzites in this genealogy, though the name occurs in Gen. 13:7, Gen. 15:20, Gen. 34:30 and Ex. 3:8, 17. This seems to imply that they were not a separate race. They were rather people who kept out of the town life the Canaanites generally preferred, and stayed villagers — much as, later in Israel's history, religious separatists were called Pharisees.
Some argue that the little word "then" gives the game away. Only a writer living long after the Canaanites were driven out, they say, would phrase it like that. One writer answers that claim:
There is no ground for inferring from these words, or from Gen. 13:7, that the Canaanites and Perizzites had already been driven out of the land when the writer lived. The words show that the first, if not the second, were in the land when Abram entered it, and that both were settled there when he came back from Egypt. We can easily understand that this was a trial to Abram. But he did not have to wait for Moses' day, still less Joshua's, to know that they and all the other intruders were doomed. No doubt their removal was still future. But the writer, like Abram, believed in Jehovah, who knows and reveals the end from the beginning.
This verse explains Abram's response in the next verses. What moved him was not a wish for peace at any price. He cared about how the two of them looked to the people around them:
Abram's whole concern in this matter was for the Lord's honour, kept up by brothers walking together in peace in front of the "Canaanite and the Perizzite." "Let there be no strife," he says, "between me and you … for we are brothers." Abram did not want to end the strife by demanding concessions from Lot. No; he was willing to give up everything himself — to surrender every claim, to sacrifice every advantage — as long as the strife stopped.
- Blessing — The strife started with increase, not hardship. Their possessions were great, so they could not live together.
- Exposure — Wealth showed what quiet times had hidden. Nothing exposes weak faith like greed for things on earth.
- Watchers — The Canaanite and the Perizzite lived nearby, ready to mock a quarrel between men who claimed to follow the living God.
- History — The note that these peoples were in the land at that time records fact, not a later writer's slip. Their removal was still future, but already certain.
- Surrender — Abram ended the quarrel by giving up every claim himself. The Lord's honour before those watchers mattered more than his rights.
And Abram said to Lot, I pray thee let there be no contention between me and thee, and between my herdsmen and thy herdsmen, for we are brethren.
Abram and Lot both grew rich, and their wealth drove them apart: the land could not feed both households, and their herdsmen quarrelled. Abram spoke first, and asked for peace because the two of them were family. (Older translations end the verse "for we be brethren." The writers quoted below use that wording; the ESV has "for we are kinsmen.")
The quarrel began over pasture. One writer traces it back to what each man was living for, and to what wealth reveals about faith:
Lot made no advance in faith. As Abram's companion, he claimed to take the same position — that of a pilgrim. But he did not have a pilgrim's ways… Lot was a follower of Abram rather than of God. The land mattered to him more than obeying the call of God. His herdsmen fought with Abram's herdsmen over the better pasture… Where nothing disturbs, very feeble faith looks as bright and strong as great faith. But nothing exposes the lack of faith like greed for earthly possessions, whether for ourselves or for our children.
The previous verse names who else was living in the land. Abram makes his appeal in front of them, and one writer reads that detail as deliberate:
It is sobering that Scripture records "the Canaanite and the Perizzite were then dwelling in the land." It is as though the record points out how serious strife is in front of such unfriendly eyes and ears. Enemies are looking on. They note with barely hidden satisfaction the strife and contention that is all too common among the people of God. Contention is usually connected with something that belongs to us in this world. It is something the heart is set on. But having it will not help us grow; it does the opposite.
Abram does not ask Lot to give anything up. He removes the cause of the quarrel by absorbing the loss himself:
Abram's whole concern in that matter was for the Lord's honour. He wanted it kept up in the harmonious walk of "brethren" before the "Canaanite and the Perizzite." "Let there be no strife," he says, "between me and you… for we are brethren." Nor did Abram want to end the strife by demanding concessions from Lot. No; he was willing to concede everything himself. He would surrender every claim and sacrifice every advantage, as long as the strife stopped. And how does the Lord meet this self-sacrifice? He comes in, in the fullness of His goodness, and makes it up to him a hundredfold.
The claim was his, not Lot's:
Lot was the nephew, he the uncle. It was to Abram, not to Lot, that everything had been promised; yet when the dispute arises, he stands up for no rights of his own. He knew his own wrongs too well. He had been down before the Lord, and is as far as possible from taking a high place, even with one who ought to have been subject to him.
Abram appeals to brotherhood, yet what he proposes is separation. One writer explains why the two fit together:
Abraham is a restored man in a true position with a right motive. Lot, though in a right position, is only a follower of others. So the strife becomes the sad occasion of revealing Lot's worldly-mindedness. It also brings to light Abraham's heavenly-mindedness, which can give up the things that are seen… A man in a position he has no faith for will in the end become a source of strife among brothers. He had better separate from the man whose faith he cannot follow.
Giving Lot the first choice looks like poor judgement. It makes sense once you see what Abram valued more:
Abram says, "Is not the whole land before you?" Take what you want, let us not quarrel… The promise is my portion. I am a complete stranger here. The city of God is open in glory before me. His heart is on the promises of God, and everything else is nothing by comparison. It might look foolish to let Lot choose. The right to choose is Abram's own. But his heart is elsewhere, and his faith goes entirely free of earthly advantage.
- Cause. The quarrel grew out of possessions. Nothing exposes weak faith like greed for earthly things — for ourselves or for our children.
- Audience. The Canaanite and the Perizzite were living in the land. Enemies watch the strife among God's people with barely hidden satisfaction.
- Surrender. Abram ends the strife by conceding everything himself. He guards the Lord's honour instead of his own claim.
- Separation. A man in a position he has no faith for becomes a source of strife. He is better parted from the man whose faith he cannot follow.
- Reward. Abram gave up his claim, and the Lord answered that self-sacrifice by making it up to him a hundredfold.
Is not the whole land before thee? Separate thyself, I pray thee, from me if to the left, then I will take the right; and if to the right, then I will take the left.
Abram's offer comes after wealth made living together impossible and the herdsmen began to quarrel. The older man, who held God's promise of the land, gives the first choice to his younger nephew. The chapter then shows what each choice was worth.
The quarrel was still only between the herdsmen, but Abram saw where it was heading. He also saw who was watching.
Scripture solemnly records that the Canaanites and the Perizzites were then living in the land. It is as if we are meant to see how serious strife is in front of such unfriendly eyes and ears. There are enemies looking on. They notice with barely hidden satisfaction the strife and contention that is all too common among the people of God. Contention is usually connected with something that belongs to us in this world, something the heart is set on. But having it will not help us grow spiritually — it does the opposite... How beautifully we see this in Abram; he was completely free from the spirit of strife. He meets the spirit of strife with the spirit of surrender: he did not insist on any rights of his own.
There is a sadder side to this. The remedy itself points to a deeper problem.
Something was very wrong when only separating from each other could keep them from strife. We can be sure the man of faith was not absorbed in his possessions. He would never have let his flocks and herds separate him from someone he could have happy fellowship with in the things of God.
Count what Abram was entitled to. Every claim in the situation was his.
In every respect Abram had the right to the first choice, as we would say. He was the elder both in years and in relationship. He was the leading figure in the whole action that had brought them to this distant land. Lot was, as it were, only attached to him. He was noble and generous in surrendering his right to the younger man.
Handing the choice to Lot looks reckless until you see what Abram was holding instead.
Abram says, "Is not the whole land before you?" Take what you want, let us not quarrel. The promise is my portion. I am a complete stranger here, and the city of God is open in glory before me. His heart is on the promises of God, and everything else is nothing in comparison. It might seem a foolish thing to let Lot choose. The right to choose is certainly Abram's own. But his heart is elsewhere, and his faith is entirely free of earthly advantage.
The offer was a test, and Lot failed it by accepting.
It is not merely that he chose the best part that makes our hearts condemn him, but that he made a choice at all... Lot was blind to all this, and he takes on himself to make the choice. Then, as we would expect from such a beginning, he chooses on an entirely worldly principle. He takes the well-watered plain for his flocks and herds, though that brought him close to the corrupt city.
Choosing by what the eye can see is the whole method, and one writer turns it into a question that outlives the story: does anyone ever choose well who chooses for himself?
Abram could say, in the generosity that comes from faith, "Is not the whole land before you? Separate yourself from me"... but Lot was of another mind... Sadly, they were separated by more than distance, and we know the later history of Lot's fatal choice.
The moment Abram let go, God spoke.
Notice how blessed it is to bow before the Lord and refuse to fight for our rights, however natural that is to the heart. The moment Abram gives up to Lot, the Lord appears again. Never was a gift given to man in such clear and generous terms as the one He now gives Abram... "Lift up your eyes and look from the place where you are, northward and southward and eastward and westward, for all the land that you see I will give to you and to your offspring forever."
How sweet for Abram to have trusted in the Lord, leaving the whole question — apparently with Lot, but really with the Lord! When will we learn to be this simple and trusting? We will also learn at the same time that there is never a giving up of self that the Lord does not answer. He answers it in His grace, and in the sweet assurance of it to our souls, with a better gift still through Jesus Christ our Lord!
- Surrender. Abram meets the spirit of strife with the spirit of surrender. He claims nothing from Lot.
- Right. He was the elder, the leader, and the man God had promised the land. The first choice was his, and he gave it away.
- Portion. He could afford to. The promise was his portion, and a heart fixed on the city of God is free of earthly advantage.
- Choice. Lot's fault was not only taking the better half. It was taking the choice at all. He chose by his eyes, and the corrupt city lay just beyond the good grass.
- Return. The moment Abram let go, God gave him the whole land in every direction; no giving up of self goes unanswered.
And Lot lifted up his eyes, and beheld all the plain of the Jordan that it was thoroughly watered, before Jehovah had destroyed Sodom and Gomorrah; as the garden of Jehovah, like the land of Egypt, as one goes to Zoar.
Genesis 13 records a parting. Abram gives his nephew Lot the first pick of the land. Lot looks out over the Jordan valley before he chooses. The verse sets what Lot saw against what he could not see. The plain looked like paradise, but judgment against it was already fixed.
Lot's first move is to raise his eyes. God later speaks the same words to Abram. That difference decides everything.
What then did Lot do? "He lifted up his eyes." This is always how we act when we are not under the direct power of faith. Whenever we lift up our eyes without God's direction, we are sure to go wrong. I say, without God's direction, because the Lord later tells Abram to lift up his eyes. But that was completely different from Lot's act. Lot's look was only the suggestion of human wisdom and foresight.
A second writer names the step Lot skipped.
He should have depended on the Lord and so given the first choice to his uncle. Instead, "he lifted up his eyes" (v. 10) — but not high enough! He had no idea of asking the Lord's guidance.
The verse likens the plain to two places at once: God's garden and Egypt. One writer shows how strange that pairing is.
Choosing by sight confuses the garden of the Lord with the land of Egypt. Just think of these two put together: "Egypt," and "the garden of the Lord!" What a contrast! The one is above and unseen; the other is below and visible. Jordan separates them.
Lot had already been to Egypt with Abram. The likeness he spots shows what he brought home.
Everywhere there was water for his flocks, without the work of digging wells. Most significant of all, it was "like the land of Egypt." Lot had followed Abraham into Egypt. There he picked up a taste for Egypt's pleasures, and so strengthened his desire for worldly ease and plenty... There was nothing gross or wrong in choosing a well-watered plain. But it proves that the heart is not set on the unseen land of God's promise. And the real danger of the well-watered plains is that Satan had raised up Sodom in the middle of them.
The comparison to God's garden gave the choice a religious sound. Under that sound lay the real motive.
The plain of Jordan is "like the garden of the Lord" — like paradise: why should he not enjoy God's gifts in it? He forgets the fall, and that paradise is barred from man. He argues religiously enough. But under it all the real secret is this: it is "like the land of Egypt." How much of man's reasoning comes from his heart and not his head — a heart too far from God! It is significant that the verse adds, "in the direction of Zoar" — and that is exactly where Lot came.
The words before the LORD destroyed Sodom and Gomorrah are the narrator's, not Lot's. They add the one fact no survey could supply.
On the surface all was pleasant and attractive. The view was matchless, the prospects reassuring. But there was one thing no human eye could see — the thoughts of God, and His counsels about the people of the plain.
That hidden fact decided everything about the choice.
He chose Sodom — the very place that was about to be judged. But how was this? Why select such a spot? Because he looked at the outward appearance, and not at the true character and future destiny. The character of the place was "wicked." Its future destiny was judgment — to be destroyed by fire and sulfur from heaven. Someone may say, "Lot knew nothing of all this." Perhaps not, and neither did Abraham; but God did. If Lot had let God choose his inheritance for him, God would never have chosen a spot He Himself was about to destroy.
The choice did not end with the choosing.
"Then Lot chose him all the plain of Jordan" (Gen. 13); then he pitched his tent toward Sodom. Next he lived in Sodom (Gen. 14). On the eve of its downfall, "Lot sat in the gate of Sodom," in the place of honour there (Gen. 19:1) — a sad example of the earthly minded believer on a path of decline.
- Look — Lot raised his eyes, but not high enough. A look taken without God's direction is where trouble starts.
- Likeness — The plain looked like the garden of the Lord and like Egypt. Only sight can hold those two together.
- Leaven — Nothing was wrong with a well-watered plain. But the Egypt in the view exposed the Egypt already in his heart.
- Blind spot — He could read water and pasture. He could not read God's judgment hanging over the cities of that plain.
- Landslide — He chose the plain, pitched his tent toward Sodom, then lived in it, then sat in its gate. Decline moves by stages.
And Lot chose for himself all the plain of the Jordan; and Lot went toward the east. And they separated the one from the other
Abram had just offered his nephew first pick of the land, and Lot took it — the whole plain of Jordan, and off he went east. Two men who had travelled together for years now part company. The parting shows what each man's heart wanted.
Lot lifted up his eyes before he chose anything.
What then did Lot do? "He lifted up his eyes." This is always our way of acting when we are not under the direct power of faith. Whenever we lift up our eyes without divine direction, we are sure to go wrong. I say, without divine direction. Later we find the Lord directing Abram to lift up his eyes. But that was nothing like Lot's act, which was only the suggestion of human wisdom and foresight.
The plain looked like the garden of the Lord — and also like Egypt, the country Lot and Abram had gone down to earlier.
Without seeking direction from God, he chooses his path according to sight. "Lot lifted up his eyes and saw the Jordan Valley." It was a tempting sight, promising ease and plenty right away. Everywhere there was water for his flocks, without the labour of digging wells. The valley was so fruitful that it was "like the garden of the LORD." Most significant of all, it was "like the land of Egypt." Sadly, Lot had followed Abraham into Egypt. There he had acquired a taste for Egypt's pleasures, and so had strengthened his desire for worldly ease and plenty. So Lot chooses the whole Jordan Valley. He gives up the separate path — he never had faith of his own for it — and leaves the land of Canaan for good… The real danger of the well-watered plains is that Satan had built Sodom in the middle of them.
Nobody could accuse Lot of an obvious sin here. He picked well-watered land for his flocks — a sensible business decision.
There is nothing openly wrong in his choosing a well-watered plain. But it clearly proves that his whole heart is not set on the promises of God. So he faces the test. And so, as God works out His purposes, character comes to light. Abraham's conduct springs from a simple faith that takes hold of God's promises and wants nothing else. Faith can give up. The spirit of a worldly mind takes all it can get.
The strife between the herdsmen was only the surface trouble. The deeper cause lay in what Lot had been following all along.
Lot made no advance in faith. As Abram's companion, he claimed to take the same position — that of a pilgrim. But he did not have a pilgrim's ways. So Abram, after his return from Egypt and restored to his altar, begins to feel that Lot's presence is a hindrance. There was no true communion between them. Lot was a follower of Abram rather than of God. The land mattered more to him than obeying God's call… nothing exposes a lack of faith like greed for earthly possessions, whether for ourselves or for our children.
This choice was only the first step. Later chapters trace where it led.
It was his own unfaithfulness that had placed Lot there. It was his unchecked desire for the good things of the world… "So Lot chose for himself all the Jordan Valley." Then he pitched his tent toward Sodom. Next he lived in Sodom (Gen. 14). On the eve of its downfall, "Lot sat in the gate of Sodom," in the place of honour there (Gen. 19:1) — a sad example of the earthly minded believer on the path of decline!
Abram had the right to choose first and gave it away. What he received came from God, not from his own eyes.
Lot journeyed east, choosing for himself the well-watered plain of Jordan. Lot chose: Abraham left his interests in God's hands. Who was better off? History will tell us. Lot lifted up his eyes and coveted the best pastoral district for himself. Later Abraham lifted up his eyes too, but at God's command, to see the land that was his… His whole security for owning that land lay in God's promise. God gave him no other sign.
- He looked. Lot's eyes moved before his faith did. Eyes lifted without God's direction are sure to go wrong.
- He recognised. The plain looked like Egypt, the place he had already tasted. Old appetites shaped his new choice.
- He chose. Good pasture is not a sin; choosing it proved only that his whole heart was not set on the promises. Faith can give up; a worldly mind takes all it can get.
- He drifted. He left Canaan for good, and the choice ran on by stages: the plain, then his tent toward Sodom, then living in Sodom, then a seat in its gate.
- He lost the better portion. Abram left his interests in God's hands. God then told him to lift up his eyes over the land already promised to him. The man who refused to choose received it all.
Abram dwelt in the land of Canaan; and Lot dwelt in the cities of the plain, and pitched tents as far as Sodom.
Abram and Lot have just parted ways, and this one verse records where each man chose to live. Older translations read "pitched his tent toward Sodom," and commentators come back to that phrase again and again as the moment Lot's direction changed.
The verse does more than record two addresses. It sets an environment beside an environment, and the rest of Lot's story is the outworking of his.
To be an overcomer, we must pay careful attention to where we live, to our surroundings. Isn't it significant that the Spirit of God mentions in Genesis 13:12 that Abraham lived in the land of Canaan, and that Lot lived in the cities of the plain? … No one can live in Sodom and stay untouched. Its corrupt air and polluting influences work on a man, for its people were wicked and great sinners before God. Poor Lot, by his associations, was helpless in the presence of the world.
Abram had just handed Lot the choicest ground. What he kept was not land but a way of living in it — two objects that go together.
In this episode we see Abram back at the moral height that had marked his start. Then he gave up Ur with all its comforts. Now he gives up the choicest part of the land of promise, content to remain a pilgrim, as long as he is in communion with God. His altar showed that he was in touch with God; his tent, that he still remained a pilgrim, though in the land of promise.
Lot's half of the verse is missing something Abram's half has. He had shared Abram's journey, but the record never gives him an altar of his own — and that absence explains the choice he made.
There is no mention of Lot ever building an altar or calling on the name of the Lord. Yet he was probably with Abraham where Abraham pitched his tent and called on Jehovah's name. When he chose the part of the land where he would live, there was no thought of putting the choice to God. Appearances swayed him… What looked like the land of Egypt appealed to Lot. He could not look by faith beyond the present, to see the plain as it would be after God had judged it. If he had had an altar, and had been in the habit of calling on the name of the Lord, he would no doubt have been spared the many snares he fell into.
The Hebrew phrase is not vague. It marks how far the tent was moved, and how little room was left between Lot and the city.
Note in verse 12, Lot pitched toward — up to, even to — Sodom, but in verse 12 of the next chapter he was settled there.
A tent is the shelter of someone passing through. Aimed at Sodom, it says two contradictory things at once.
The tent of a pilgrim pitched towards Sodom is a sadly out-of-place sight. Yet how many Christians are in that very position!
Read alone, verse 12 looks like a settlement decision. Read alongside what follows, it is the first move in a slide Lot did not intend.
Notice Lot, who chose all the plain of Jordan and "pitched his tent toward Sodom" (Gen. 13:12). He has now taken a further step on his downward course, for here we read that he "dwells in Sodom." We may be sure Lot never intended to dwell in Sodom when he pitched his tent toward Sodom. But one false step leads to another. Drawing near to the world, he is soon in the world. Living in the world, he is caught up in its conflicts and falls captive to its power.
Lot saw the scenery. He missed the warning standing in the middle of it.
The walls of wicked Sodom, rising in the middle of those well-watered plains, were no barrier to Lot. He pitched his tent towards Sodom. He knew what company he would be keeping there, and it did not make him draw back from his choice… His eyes were fixed on the attractive scene. So he overlooked the tower of Sodom, which should have been like a warning finger raised among those inviting fields and gardens. The calm waters that made those plains so fertile were soon to reflect the fire and brimstone that would rain from heaven… His tent disappeared soon after it was pitched "towards Sodom." From the edge of Sodom to its gates is only one step. We find him sitting in the gate of Sodom, the place of honour and business in the ancient world.
- Toward decides. No one moves into Sodom in a single day. Lot only aimed his tent at it, and one false step led to another until he lived inside.
- Toward skips prayer. Lot never built an altar or called on the Lord's name. So he judged by appearances, and could not see the plain as it would look after God judged it.
- Toward is exact. The word means up to, even as far as Sodom. The gap Lot left between himself and the city was no gap at all.
- Toward reshapes you. Where a believer lives works on him. Among Sodom's polluting influences, Lot was helpless before the world he had chosen.
- Toward has a rival. Abram gave up the best ground. He kept his tent and his altar, and stayed in the land of promise.
And the people of Sodom were wicked, and great sinners before Jehovah.
Lot has just parted from Abraham and chosen the plain towards Sodom for himself. This verse names the one thing his eyes had not weighed: the people living there.
The plain looked like a garden. This verse tells us what it was underneath.
In contrast to this, Lot saw that the plain, stretching towards Sodom and Gomorrah, was "like the garden of the LORD," and he embraced it, pitching his tent toward Sodom. The men of Sodom, however, excelled in wickedness, as verse 13 tells us. So it is clear that, though those cities were like the garden of the LORD, they were really a playground of the devil. Towards that evil spot Lot gravitated.
Lot was measuring pasture. God was measuring people.
Whether Lot knew it or not, "the men of Sodom were wicked, great sinners against the LORD." The moral conditions were such that God could not tolerate them much longer. If Lot had been living in close fellowship with God, he might have felt something of what God felt about what was happening in Sodom... God's thoughts were on the lives of the men who lived in the cities of the plain. Lot's thoughts were taken up with the natural beauty of the land and its rich pastures. Little did Lot realise that before long the fair valley he was feasting his eyes on would be the scene of devastating divine judgment.
Sodom's sin was against the LORD Himself. Sin like that does not stay unanswered forever.
Already we have learned that "the men of Sodom were wicked, great sinners against the LORD" (Gen. 13:13). Now we learn that their sin cried out to the Lord for judgment, because it was "very grievous." God waits and is patient with the wickedness of men, but He is not indifferent to sin. It cries out to Him until at last it is ripe for judgment. But, even so, the Lord is slow to judge.
Abraham was in the same land, looking at the same country. His tent pointed somewhere else.
While Lot's worldly eyes were on the green pastures of Sodom, Abraham's heart was "desiring a better country." Lot pitched his tent towards wicked Sodom. Abraham's eyes were looking towards a heavenly city, and he pitched his tent that way — a city "whose builder and maker is God."
Lot did not move into Sodom in one step. The verse names what the place was while he was still outside it, and he kept going closer.
He may not have known what the people of Sodom were really like when he first left Abram. But he could hardly live in the cities of the plain without learning something of their wickedness. The decline had been gradual, yet the steps are clear. First came the choice of the pleasant, fertile plain. Next came the separation from the company of the man of faith. Then came living in the cities of the plain. Then he pitched his tent towards Sodom. Finally he lived in the wicked city. So long as Lot had his tents there was the appearance of his being a pilgrim, but even the outward show had gone when he lived in Sodom.
Choosing the easiest option also chooses your neighbours. Lot lived with the result.
He wanted the easiest circumstances, and of course in Sodom he found the people who love the easiest circumstances, those who were "wicked, great sinners against the LORD." If we seek only to please ourselves, we will soon find company with the same unhealthy desires... Peter tells us about Lot, "that righteous man, dwelling among them, tormented his righteous soul from day to day by seeing and hearing their lawless deeds" (2 Peter 2:8).
- See. Lot judged the plain by what met the eye. The verse supplies the fact he missed: the character of the people living in it.
- Choose. Ease was his standard, so ease picked his neighbours. The choice tormented the soul it was meant to comfort.
- Drift. The move was gradual and traceable: the plain, then away from Abraham, then the cities, then the tent facing Sodom, then living inside it.
- Cry out. Sodom's sin was against the LORD Himself. It cried out to Him until it was ripe for judgment — yet He is slow to judge.
- Look higher. Abraham looked at the same land and wanted a city built by God. Same view, different horizon.
And Jehovah said to Abram, after that Lot had separated himself from him, Lift up now thine eyes, and look from the place where thou art, northward and southward and eastward and westward;
The timing of these words matters as much as the words. Abram has just handed his nephew Lot the first choice of the land, and God speaks only after Lot has gone.
One writer reads God's timing as deliberate, and notes that God had never given this command before:
After Lot had taken the best for himself, Another settles the matter. It was disgraceful that the nephew dared to act that way in a land God had promised to Abram only. "The LORD said to Abram, after Lot had separated from him." So the Spirit notes here that everything followed the simple will of God. He was no careless onlooker, and He does not fail to clear away what hinders. Now that it was so, the LORD said, "Lift up your eyes and look from the place where you are, northward and southward and eastward and westward." He had never said this before.
Four verses earlier Lot lifted up his eyes and saw the well-watered plain. The same words now come to Abram. The difference lies in what each man saw:
"Lot lifted up his eyes," and what they rested on was, as you would expect, what suited his natural desires — "well-watered plains." However lovely they looked to man, in the sight of the Lord they were filled with terrible wickedness (compare verses 10 and 14). Abram, on the other hand, had let his eye wander over the length and breadth of the promised inheritance. Nothing else swayed him. He looked at the portion which God was keeping for him and his offspring, and took his position in line with it.
Lot looked; God told Abram where to look. The four directions are the point:
This is exactly what Lot had done (v. 10), but he had limited his sight to what appealed to him. God tells Abram to look to the north, south, east and west. He would give Abram and his descendants all the land that he saw. How much broader is God's view than that of our natural selfishness!
Abram's offer to take whatever Lot left was not weakness. One writer explains why he could afford it:
Abram says to Lot: take what you want, do not let us quarrel. The promise is my portion. I am a complete stranger here; the city of God is open in glory before me. His heart is set on the promises of God, and everything else is nothing in comparison. It might seem foolish to let Lot choose. The right to choose was certainly Abram's own. But his heart is elsewhere, and his faith goes entirely free from earthly advantage.
The same writer draws a wider lesson from Abram's trust:
How sweet that Abram trusted in the Lord! The whole question seemed to rest with Lot, but it really rested with the LORD. When will we learn to be that simple and trusting? We will surely learn something else at the same time. The Lord always answers a giving up of self. He answers it in His grace, in the sweet assurance of that grace to our souls, and by a better gift still through Jesus Christ our Lord!
Abram could look at the land in every direction, yet everything he had rested on a promise:
Wherever he looked around, his eye fell on part of the land of his inheritance, which God had promised to give him. But all his security for possessing that land lay in God's promise. God gave him no other guarantee about it.
Abram uses his eyes here, but only at God's direction — and a writer applies that to us:
Now Abraham uses his eyes, but at the direction of the LORD. When Lot had separated from him, the LORD said, "Lift up your eyes and look from the place where you are." He is to look in every direction at the land which the LORD has given him. And it is well for us too, when we are freed from the weight of those who have no faith for the outside path. It is well if we set our minds on things above and "look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen." It is well if we seek to enjoy all that God has revealed about the world to come, the heavenly country with its city that has foundations.
- Separated — God spoke after Lot was gone; He clears away what hinders before He enlarges the vision.
- Directed — Lot lifted his eyes and chose; Abram lifted his at God's word, and God showed him north, south, east and west.
- Surrendered — Abram could give up the choice because the promise was already his. His faith went free of earthly advantage.
- Answered — no giving up of self goes unanswered by the Lord; He replies with a better gift.
- Unseen — Abram held the land by promise alone, with no other security. The same call comes to us: look at what is unseen, not only at what appeals to the eye.
for all the land that thou seest will I give to thee, and to thy seed for ever.
Lot has just taken the best of the Jordan plain for himself. Only then does God speak to Abram and tell him to lift up his own eyes. What God hands him is far larger than Lot's choice: the whole land, and forever.
Abram had the right to choose first, and he let it go.
But notice how good it is to bow before the Lord and to refuse to fight for our rights, however natural that is to the heart. The moment Abram gives up to Lot, Jehovah appears again. God never gave anyone a gift in terms as clear and as large as the one He now gives Abram. Lot lifted up his eyes, looked over the plain of Jordan, and chose the best of it. Now Jehovah speaks to Abram after Lot had separated from him — that is, after Lot had taken his ill-gotten gains. He says, "Lift up your eyes." How blessed are the words of the Lord!
Two things carry the weight of the verse. God gives the land, and He gives it forever. He asks nothing from Abram in return, and He sets no end date.
Just then, while the patriarch was living between Bethel and Ai, the Lord confirmed the promise He had made to him at Shechem — and apparently without His servant asking… The promise of the land to Abraham's seed at Shechem had been unconditional. Now he heard that his offspring would enjoy it for unlimited time. God is the God of the whole earth. He alone had the right and the power to give away any part of the globe as He pleased. He bound Himself in this way to Abraham and to his seed. What a thing it was to deal with the one true God, who could act with such grace! Abraham had once worshipped idols, and he must have felt it.
God told Abram to look over land he did not own. He had no title and no deed, and other peoples were living on the ground in front of him.
They are clearly in the place of strangers ("the Canaanites and the Perizzites were dwelling in the land"). They have nothing in possession, "not even a foot's length"; everything depends on their valuing the promises (Heb. 11:9). They have just two things, the altar and the tent. Travelling about, and worshipping God, they are strangers and pilgrims on the earth.
God promised the land to Abram himself, not only to his descendants. Abram died without owning it. So the promise reaches past the grave.
God never gave the land of Israel into the actual possession of Abraham or Isaac or Jacob while they were alive in their natural bodies; yet He did promise them the land — not merely to their children, but to themselves. So they must rise to have the land promised to them. God gave them the land in promise, but they never owned it. Since they cannot own it while they are dead, they must live again to receive the promised land.
This promise still stands over the same land today, whatever nations have fought over it since.
Not the smallest detail of what God has promised to Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob will fail. He will do it all. Despite everything said and done against it, God remembers His promises, and He will fulfil them… Dynasties have risen and played their part on the stage of this world. Thrones have been built on the apparent ruins of Jerusalem's ancient glory. Empires have flourished for a time and then fallen into decay. Ambitious rulers have fought to possess "the land of promise". All these things have happened. But the LORD has said about that land, "The land shall not be sold in perpetuity, for the land is mine" (Lev. 25:23).
God does not stop at the promise. He tells Abram to get up and walk through the land He has given him.
It was a turning point for Abraham as it was for Lot. God told him He would give him all the land, and said, "Arise, walk through the length and the breadth of the land." When he had made the good choice and accepted the portion from God, then God showed him far more fully all that He had given him… All the land is ours, but we have to realise it. It produces happy worship in the heart when we live as strangers and pilgrims, seeking nothing in the world… Gifts are precious as they put us in touch with the Giver. The love that gives is more precious than the gift.
- Give up — Abram let Lot choose first; the promise came only after he stopped defending his rights.
- Look up — Lot's own eyes picked out a fragment. God showed Abram the whole land, in every direction.
- Hold on — Abram had a tent and an altar and not one foot of ground. His entire security was the word of God.
- Rise — God promised "forever" to Abraham himself. He died without owning the land, so God must raise him to receive it.
- Walk — God gave the land first, then told Abram to cross it. We enjoy God's gifts by walking through them — and the Giver is worth more than the gift.
And I will make thy seed as the dust of the earth, so that if any one can number the dust of the earth, thy seed also will be numbered.
Abram had just let his nephew Lot take first pick of the land. God then promised him a family as countless as the dust — and the commentators ask who this seed is, and whether the promise has yet been kept.
The timing matters. God spoke only after Abram had given up his claim.
But notice how blessed it is to bow before the Lord and to refuse to fight for our rights, however natural that is to the heart. The moment Abram gives up to Lot, Jehovah appears again. No gift was ever given to man in such clear and large terms as the one He now gives to Abram. Lot had lifted up his eyes, seen the whole Jordan valley, and chosen the best of it. Now Jehovah speaks to Abram after Lot had separated from him — that is, after Lot had taken his ill-gotten gains. And He says, "Lift up your eyes."
The same writer draws out what this means for us.
How sweet it was that Abram trusted in the Lord! The choice seemed to lie with Lot, but Abram left the whole matter with Jehovah. When will we learn to be this simple and trusting? We will certainly learn at the same time that the Lord always answers a giving up of self. He answers it in His grace, and in the sweet assurance of that grace to our souls, by a still better gift through Jesus Christ our Lord!
Dust lies on the ground. The picture marks out which family God has in view here.
More than this, God would increase Abram's descendants "as the dust of the earth" (v. 16). The man of faith will always prove fruitful in the end. It may seem otherwise to us because of the long delay, as it did to Abram, but God's promise was absolute: it could not possibly fail. At this time God only speaks of "the dust of the earth," for He implies only an earthly people, primarily Israel. Later, in Genesis 15:5, He tells Abram his seed would be as the stars of heaven. That takes in the great number called "sons of Abraham," whose inheritance is in heaven — for Galatians 3:7 says that those who are of faith are the sons of Abraham.
This verse gives the first of three pictures of the seed. The order matters.
Looking back to Genesis with this in view, we read that the first time God made a promise to Abraham about his seed He told him it would be as "the dust of the earth" (Gen. 13:16). The next time God spoke of that seed in Genesis 15:5, He said it would be as "the stars." Then in Gen. 22:17 He added a third thing about the seed, saying it would be "as the sand." So Abraham received the promises in this order — dust, stars and sand. … We have long understood the stars to picture the heavenly company, the dust Israel and the sand the Gentiles. While the dust came first at the outset, the stars take first place in God's dealings: the heavenly company now come first, Israel second and the Gentiles third.
Centuries later, a prophet looked at Israel's numbers and reached for the same picture.
At the time of this prophecy they were still a small nation (Deut. 4:38). But it gives a glimpse of the future, when the first word (Gen. 13:16) will be literally fulfilled through the line of Israel whose seed shall be like the dust of the earth, and as the sand on the sea shore for multitude (Gen. 28:14, Gen. 32:12). Balaam, "the man whose eyes are open," sees their vast numbers. He cries out: who can count the dust of Jacob, or the number of the fourth part of Israel?
Some treat Israel's long stay in Canaan as this promise paid in full. One writer weighs that against what God said.
The possession of Canaan for some 1500 years, down to AD 70, would be a poor answer to the rich words of the God who gave promises to Abraham. The true fulfilment is still future, and will only be under Messiah and the new covenant.
God gave Abram no timetable and no details. What Abram did with the promise is the model.
Such a promise, so persistently repeated, Abram could only treasure up in his heart, without asking for an explanation. There was in him something of the spirit of our Lord's mother, Mary, who treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart. Such an attitude greatly honours God.
- Surrender first. Abram handed Lot the choice. Only after Lot had gone did God speak this promise — the Lord always answers a giving up of self.
- Three measures. Dust, then stars, then sand: an earthly people, primarily Israel; then those whose inheritance is heavenly; then the Gentiles.
- Fruitful in the end. The man of faith proves fruitful in the end. The long delay never made God's absolute promise fail.
- Uncountable. Balaam saw Israel's vast numbers and asked who could count the dust of Jacob. The promise had begun to show itself.
- Still future. Israel's past centuries in Canaan are too small a payment for words this rich. The true fulfilment waits for Messiah. So Abram's part, and ours, is to treasure the promise and not demand an explanation.
Arise, walk through the land according to the length of it and according to the breadth of it; for I will give it to thee.
Lot had just taken the well-watered plain and moved away. God then sent Abram walking across a land He had promised him but had not yet given him. Why now — and why walk over ground he could not yet own?
Abram had let his nephew pick the best ground, and the promise came straight after. One writer sees the same pattern each time Abram gave something up:
The blessing that rested upon Abraham was very great. It more than repaid him for all he gave up. If he gave up earthly prospects in Ur, he became an inheritor of blessing that would finally spread out to "all families of the earth." If he yielded the fairest parts of the land to Lot, directly afterwards came the word, "Arise, walk through the length and the breadth of the land, for I will give it to you."
Another writer reads the timing as God's own doing:
The Spirit notes that everything now was according to the simple will of God. He was no careless onlooker, and He does not fail to clear away what hinders.
God does not tell Abram to fence off a portion. The command is movement — the whole length and breadth. That matches what Abram held in his lifetime:
He was not to settle down and take possession of any part of the land, but pass through all of it, as Stephen says in Acts 7:5: "He gave him no inheritance in it, not even a foot's length, but promised to give it to him as a possession and to his offspring after him, though he had no child."
So what was the walk for? God had never spoken this way to Abram before. Notice where the command finally left Abram:
"Lift up your eyes and look from the place where you are, northward and southward and eastward and westward" — He had never said so before — "for all the land that you see I will give to you and to your offspring forever… Arise, walk through the length and the breadth of the land" — Abram was to take possession by faith — "for I will give it to you." So Abram moved his tent and came and settled by the oaks of Mamre, which are at Hebron, and there he built an altar to the LORD. Well he might!
Israel did later live in Canaan for centuries. One writer weighs that against the size of what God promised:
The possession of Canaan for 1500 years would be a poor answer to the rich words of the God who gave promises to Abraham. The true accomplishment is still future, and will only come under the Messiah and the new covenant.
That hope rests on the promise itself, which carried no conditions: "The promises made to Abraham were unconditional and absolute." (W. Trotter)
Abram got a clear view of his land only after he took his portion from God's hand. The gift did more than enlarge his map:
When he had made the good choice, and accepted the portion from God, then God shows him far more fully all that He had given him. Abraham gets a definite knowledge of his possessions. When our affections are set upon God, He can reveal Himself to us more fully. All the land is ours, but we have to realise it… Gifts are precious as they put us in communion with the Giver. The love that gives is more precious than the gift.
Abram held his land by promise alone. Believers stand in a like place, with one difference:
Like Abraham, we have the promise of an inheritance. Like him, wherever we look around, our eye falls on part of it… Abraham could walk through the length and breadth of the land of his inheritance. We cannot yet see how far ours reaches. We have heard of its limits, but have never seen them. Like Abraham, we must leave earth before we can enjoy the inheritance promised to us. But unlike him, we have more than the word of our God about it. God has also given us the Holy Spirit as the guarantee of it.
- Give up. Abram handed Lot the better land. The survey of the whole country came right after. What he gave up, God more than repaid.
- Get up. The command is to rise and cross the ground — not to settle on a corner of it. He owned no part of it, not even a foot's length.
- Walk it. Crossing the land was how Abram took possession by faith. It brought him to Mamre, to a tent and an altar.
- Wait for it. The promise carried no conditions, and its true fulfilment is still ahead. Israel's centuries in Canaan were too small a return on words that large.
- Know the Giver. God showed Abram his whole portion after Abram took it from His hand. The love that gives is worth more than the gift.
Then Abram moved [his] tents, and came and dwelt by the oaks of Mamre, which are in Hebron. And he built there an altar to Jehovah.
Abram had just let Lot take the best-looking land, and God had answered him with the promise of the whole country. His move to Mamre, and the altar he built there, show what a man does when he gives up his claim and gains his God.
Giving Lot first choice cost Abram the fertile plain. One writer reads the move to Mamre as the recovery of the ground Abram had stood on when he first left home.
Here we see Abram back at the moral elevation that had marked his outset. Then he gave up Ur with its comforts; now he yields up the choicest part of the land of promise, content to be still a pilgrim, if in communion with God. His altar showed that he was in touch with God; his tent that he still remained a pilgrim, though in the land of promise.
The verse names two things: a tent and an altar. Each says something different about Abram.
His tent marked him as a stranger to the battles and prizes of this world. And his altar marked him as one whose pursuits were of a completely different kind, a heavenly one. His tent showed him to be a stranger on earth — his altar showed him to be at home in heaven.
That pairing carries a warning as well as a comfort. We cannot hold on to one without the other.
Our tent and altar must go together. If we do not keep the pilgrim way and character down here, we cannot expect to be fit to serve as priests before God in the heavenly sanctuary.
One writer reads the two place names for their meaning, and links this altar to the one Abram built before it.
Mamre means "fatness" and Hebron "communion." This follows on from the second altar, the altar of decision, which stood between Bethel and Ai (Gen. 12:8). True decision to put God's interests first leads to fatness, that is, spiritual prosperity. That prosperity is found in communion with the Lord. So this is the altar of communion. Communion with God rests on the truth of the person of the Lord Jesus (the altar), and it involves His sacrifice too, for that was the purpose of the altar. There is no approaching God without this.
Another writer lists what living at Hebron gave Abram.
Abram enjoyed good company at Hebron — he had as "allies" Aner and Eshcol... Abram also had "trained servants" in his house — 318 of them. His was a disciplined household, producing qualities useful in the interests of God's people. Above all else, Abram's heart responded to God Himself: "there he built an altar to the LORD."
One writer treats Hebron as a picture of where faith lives. He is also honest that such a walk is usually a lonely one.
So the picture Hebron gives us is complete. It is the home of the man of faith. It is not only his home, but also his place of worship... The God of glory had called him out of his country and from his relatives. When he obeyed that call, he judged the world to be a poor home for a man who might at any moment be asked to host heavenly visitors. Lot had never shared in this heavenly calling. And the path of faith is more often walked alone than in company.
The place Abram chose comes up again and again later in the Bible. One writer follows its story, and much of it turns out to be a record of graves.
When Lot chose the cities of the plain, Abraham, the father of the people, made his home there. There he built an altar to the LORD and received the promise of God. But more than anything, Hebron is the place of death, and Abraham knew that first. Sarah died there, and there she was buried. Abraham was buried there too, and Isaac, and then Jacob and the patriarchs... What is there in it to attract? Nothing for the natural man, everything for faith.
The same writer adds two later chapters. Hebron became a city of refuge. It was also where David's kingdom began.
- Surrender — Abram let Lot take the well-watered plain. The move to Mamre shows him back at the level of faith he started with, content to stay a pilgrim if he has fellowship with God.
- Tent — the tent marked him as a stranger on earth, with no stake in the quarrels and prizes of the world around him.
- Altar — the altar marked him as at home in heaven. Tent and altar go together: pilgrim living keeps worship real.
- Fellowship — Mamre means fatness and Hebron communion. Here is the settled place: spiritual prosperity, good company, a disciplined household, and worship, all resting on the altar.
- Legacy — the spot Abram chose held nothing for the natural man. Yet it became the burial place of the patriarchs, a city of refuge, and the place where David's kingdom began.
And it came to pass in the days of Amraphel the king of Shinar, Arioch the king of El-lasar, Chedorlaomer the king of Elam, and Tidal the king of nations,
Genesis 14 opens with a list of foreign kings, and for the first time the Bible turns to armies and politics. Why does Scripture stop over a border war between small local rulers — and what does Abram, camped nearby, have to do with it?
Genesis has already told of Babel and the scattering of the nations. This is the first battle in the Bible, and one writer explains who these "kings" were and why they marched.
The confusion of tongues at Babel divided mankind into nations, and we can have little doubt that this soon led to fighting and regular warfare. But Scripture gives no record of a battle until we reach Genesis 14. There four kings from the Mesopotamian district marched towards the Dead Sea, destroying cities on the way, and in the end defeated the five kings of the cities of the plain. The "kings" named were mostly, if not all, the leaders of single cities — what we would now call petty chiefs. Chedorlaomer seems to have been the overlord of the kings with him, and he had spread his rule over the region of Sodom. They threw off his rule, and that was the reason for the expedition.
The list of allied kings also shows what the world is like.
The chapter opens with a solemn picture of this present evil world. It is a scene where the nations form themselves into groups, and make alliances to push their plans for power and to defend themselves from attack.
A small local war fills a whole chapter of the Bible. One writer gives two reasons for that.
The campaign of Chedorlaomer and his allies against the king of Sodom and his partners was not a great thing in itself. Yet Holy Scripture gives a whole chapter to it, for two important reasons. First, because a saint of God, Lot, was caught up in it. Second, because the world's first recorded battle is in many ways a foreshadowing of the last great disaster of Armageddon.
Abram's name is missing from this list of kings, and that absence is the point.
Here we have a very detailed account of a battle fought by "four kings with five," and we may ask: what did this quarrel between "the potsherds of the earth" have to do with the history of the people of God? With Abram, in one sense, nothing, for he was outside it all. His tent marked him as a stranger to all these things. It marked him as one to whom the battle of "four kings with five" would matter very little. His altar marked him as one whose pursuits were of another kind — heavenly. His tent showed him to be a stranger on earth; his altar showed him to be at home in Heaven.
Lot's case was the opposite. His suffering traced back to a choice he made long before the armies moved.
Lot's sufferings at the hands of the Gentile kings were entirely due to his unfaithfulness to God. Had he stood apart from the world and its ways, as Abram did, his path might have been as peaceful and happy as Abram's. He sought worldly advantages for himself and his family, so he sank to the world's level, and he suffered with the world in the day of trouble.
One writer looks past the geography. He asks what the two sides stand for, starting with the land the invaders came from.
The names are hard to read, and at least two of the allied countries are just as doubtful. But in the first list Amraphel, king of Shinar, stands first. He is beyond question the representative of the kingdom of Nimrod, although Chedorlaomer appears the most active and interested. They all seem to be only divisions of this Babylonish empire, though no doubt changed into an alliance of more or less equal powers… These four kings… are at war with the five petty kings of the plain of Jordan. As a picture, these last stand for the world in its open and sensual wickedness. The Babylonish kings stand for the religious world-power, which always seeks to hold that more open form of evil captive — and generally succeeds.
The kings of verse 1 are not legends. Sir Henry Rawlinson reported finding one of them in ancient records.
He had found the record of a king matching the Chedorlaomer of Genesis 14, about 1900 B.C., who was given the title "the ravager of Syria."
Such confirmation is welcome. But one writer warns against resting faith on it.
Faith accepts the record in Genesis 14, not because the clay tablets confirm it (however interesting that fact may be), but because the Spirit of God has written it. Anyone who accepts the statements of Scripture only when outside evidence confirms them is at heart an unbeliever.
We no longer know what this war settled politically. Something else came out of it and remains.
Genesis 14 gives the first campaign on record. We cannot say what its political results may have been. But a spiritual outcome came out of it, and its value will last "for ever."
- War — The Bible's first battle: four city-rulers against five, after Chedorlaomer's subject kings threw off his rule.
- World — Verse 1 shows this present age: nations forming blocs for gain and defence, and God nowhere in the picture.
- Separation — Abram's tent and altar kept him clear of the fighting. Lot went after worldly gain near Sodom, and his losses followed his choice.
- Shadow — Writers see Babylon behind the invaders, and see this first war as a picture of the world's last great war.
- Outcome — The politics of this war are forgotten. What came out of it lasts forever.
[that] they made war with Bera the king of Sodom, and with Birsha the king of Gomorrah, Shinab the king of Admah, and Shemeber the king of Zeboim, and the king of Bela, which is Zoar.
This verse names the local side of the conflict. Five small kings ruled cities near the Dead Sea, and the list ends with Bela, better known as Zoar. Behind the list lies the first battle recorded anywhere in Scripture. Why does God give a whole chapter to a local quarrel between minor rulers?
These five kings were not independent powers going to war as equals. They were breaking away from an overlord.
We can have little doubt that the confusion of tongues at Babel, and the division of mankind into nations that followed, must soon have given rise to fighting and regular warfare. But we have no record of a battle in the Scriptures until we reach Genesis 14. Four kings from the Mesopotamian district then marched towards the Dead Sea. They ravaged cities on the way, and in the end defeated the five kings of the cities of the plain. Most of these "kings", if not all, were leaders of single cities — what we would now call petty chiefs. Chedorlaomer seems to have been the overlord of the kings joined with him, and he had extended his rule over the region of Sodom. The rejection of his rule was the reason for the expedition.
The names of the first two kings carry meanings, and one commentator reads them as a picture of the world these men ruled.
The five kings are typical of the outright wickedness of the ungodly, corrupt world. The king of Sodom, Bera, means "in the evil," and Birsha (king of Gomorrah) means "in wickedness."
The verse pauses to note that Bela is also called Zoar. Of the five towns listed, this one has a different end.
One of the five cities of the plain in the land of Canaan, and the only one that survived when they fell under the judgement of God. It was formerly called BELA. Lot fled to it when Sodom fell, but he was afraid to stay there.
Why does a small local war fill a whole chapter of the Bible? The measure God uses is not the size of the armies.
The Bible stoops to small matters as well as unfolding the highest themes. To the believing heart that is one of the many proofs that it has really come from God. Every detail about His own people in the world is of the deepest interest to God. That is a most precious fact. He numbers our hairs; He takes account of our tears; He remembered Paul's need of a cloak; and He considered the weak condition of Timothy's stomach. If His people are caught up in a small raid, it matters more to God than the mightiest military campaigns that leave them untouched.
Abram had no stake in this quarrel. Lot did, because of where he had settled.
Although Abraham was not affected by the battle of "four kings with five," Lot was. His position was such as to involve him in the whole affair. As long as grace enables us to walk the path of simple faith, we shall stand completely outside the range of this world's circumstances. But we may give up our high and holy position as those whose "citizenship is in heaven," and seek a name, a place, and a portion on the earth. Then we must expect to share in earth's upheavals and changes.
Commentators also read this opening battle as a picture of something still ahead.
The expedition of Chedorlaomer and his allies against the King of Sodom and the kings with him was not a very big thing in itself. Yet Scripture gives a whole chapter to it, for two important reasons. First, one of God's people (Lot) was caught up in the affair. Second, the world's first recorded battle pictures in many ways the last great disaster, Armageddon.
- Cause — Chedorlaomer ruled the region of Sodom. These five city-chiefs threw off his rule, and his invasion was the answer.
- Character — Bera means "in the evil" and Birsha "in wickedness". The names of these two kings fit the wickedness of their cities.
- Contrast — Bela is Zoar, the one town of the five that later escaped the judgement that swallowed the rest.
- Concern — a small raid fills a whole chapter because one of God's people was caught in it. Nothing is too small for God when His own are in it.
- Consequence — the war left Abram untouched, but Lot's position dragged him into it. Seek a portion on earth and you share earth's upheavals.
All these were joined in the vale of Siddim, which is the salt sea.
The verse names the place: five kings pooled their forces in a valley that Scripture ties to the Salt Sea. Two questions follow. Where was this battlefield? And why is a war between foreign kings part of Abram's story at all?
Scripture gives two details about this valley and no map. One reference work sets them side by side:
One passage reads "the Valley of Siddim (that is, the Salt Sea)"; another says the valley was full of "slime-pits," older wording for bitumen springs. Genesis 14:3, 8, 10. It was no doubt near the Salt Sea, but no one has identified its site.
The two sides did not travel equal distances to this valley, and one writer marks the limit of what can be known:
No one knows what connection, if any, there is between the present state of the Salt Sea and the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah. The four kings had come from a distance. The five kings, two of whom were the kings of Sodom and Gomorrah, were near home. No one can trace the connection further than that. This sea is now called Bahr Lut, the "Sea of Lot."
One writer sees God's hand in the choice of battlefield:
These kings then came into conflict. The fighting did not happen in the far distant east, where some of those in the fight had come from. God's deliberate hand brought it close to the spot where His witness walked. We see them in the valley of Sodom.
One writer reads this gathering of kings as a picture of the world itself:
The chapter opens with a solemn picture of this present evil world. In it the nations form themselves into groups. They enter into alliances to carry out their schemes of self-advancement, and to defend themselves from attack.
One writer explains why Scripture bothers to record a war like this:
What has always made the history of nations, and the movements of mighty kings and conquerors, matter to the Holy Spirit is their connection with the history of the people of God. Beyond that, they held nothing of importance to Him. But when such things touch even slightly on the history of a "righteous soul," the Holy Spirit can be very detailed in describing a battle.
Abram's name is missing from this battle. Two things marked him out and kept him clear of the quarrel:
His tent marked him as a stranger to all these things — it marked him as one to whom the battle of "four kings with five" would be a matter of very trivial importance. And his altar marked him as one whose pursuits were quite of another kind, even heavenly. His tent showed him to be a stranger on earth — his altar showed him to be at home in heaven. It did not matter to Abram whether the victory went to the king of Sodom or to Chedorlaomer, king of Elam. His portion was not in danger through their strife. He had it in that place "where thieves do not break in and steal."
Lot had chosen this plain for himself, and the same writer draws out what it cost him:
Abram's happy lot was to have his life and his portion in a place where wars could have no effect on him. That was not the case with his more worldly-minded relative. His position placed him in the middle of the strife. So the outcome of this battle was of the deepest importance to him. If the child of God will stoop so low as to mix himself up with the world, he must expect to share in its upheavals.
Another writer weighs what Lot's choice nearly cost him:
It is soon discovered what a disappointing world Lot was choosing. The well-watered plain soon becomes a field of battle. If it had not been for Abram, or Abram's God, Lot would have lost his freedom there and all his possessions.
The verse's closing note — "that is, the Salt Sea" — looks ahead. What Lot saw as prime pasture now lies under salt water.
Lot had no idea what was coming. Before long the fair valley on which he was feasting his eyes would be the scene of devastating divine judgment. Much of the fertile pasture that promised him so much would lie beneath the waters of a salt sea.
- The place. The valley of Siddim lay near the Salt Sea and was full of bitumen springs. No one today knows its exact site.
- The alliance. Five kings joined forces here — a picture of the world itself, forming groups and alliances to get ahead and stay safe.
- The reason. Scripture follows the wars of nations only where they touch the people of God. The four kings came from far away; God's hand brought the fight close to where His witness walked.
- The choice. Abram's tent and altar kept him a stranger to the quarrel. Lot's address put him in the middle of it. Anyone who mixes with the world must expect to share its upheavals.
- The end. The well-watered plain became first a battlefield and then a salt sea — the verdict on what Lot chose by sight.
Twelve years had they served Chedorlaomer; and in the thirteenth year they rebelled.
This verse is one line of political history. Five small kings had served a distant overlord for twelve years. Then they refused. That refusal set off the first war recorded in the Bible — and it raises the question of why Scripture stops for a border revolt at all.
This verse holds the key to the whole chapter. Chedorlaomer was the leading king among the four invaders, and the cities near the Dead Sea had fallen under his control:
Scripture gives us no record of a battle until we reach Genesis 14. There four kings from the Mesopotamian district marched towards the Dead Sea. They destroyed cities as they went, and in the end defeated the five kings of the cities of the plain. Most of these "kings," if not all, were the leaders of single cities — what we would now call minor chiefs. Chedorlaomer seems to have been the overlord of the kings allied with him. He had extended his rule over the region of Sodom. The rejection of his overlordship was the reason for the expedition.
Scripture passes over most of world history without comment. This war gets a whole chapter, and one writer explains the rule behind that choice:
The events which fill the history of the world with their commotion scarcely count for anything in the inspired book. God does not mention them except when they intervene in one way or another in the history of His people... In fact, the Word records the great clashes of nations for one purpose only: to let us witness the deliverance of a single person among those He loves. (Gen. 14)
Twelve years of forced service, then revolt. That cycle is a portrait of the world the verse belongs to:
It is a lawless world where men are forced to serve governments against their will, or rebel against governments to get their freedom (v. 4).
Abram lived in the same land, yet no army came for him. One writer ties this to what Abram owned:
Abraham personally had nothing whatever to do with the revolt or its consequences. His "tent and altar" were not likely to give anyone a reason to declare war. They were not likely to be much affected by the war breaking out, or by how it ended. The portion that belongs to a heavenly man could never tempt the greed of this world's kings and conquerors, or stir their ambition.
Lot, by contrast, had settled in the region the invaders came for. The same writer draws out what that cost him:
As long as grace enables us to walk the path of simple faith, we are kept right outside the range of this world's circumstances. But suppose we give up our high and holy position as those whose "citizenship is in heaven." Suppose we seek a name, a place, and a portion on the earth. Then we must expect to share in earth's upheavals and changes. Lot had made his home in the plains of Sodom, and so the wars of Sodom affected him deeply and keenly.
Some read the verse as a picture as well as a record. On this reading, the twelve years of subjection and the failed revolt show the grip of a false system, and how little a self-made escape achieves:
The five kings were subject to Chedorlaomer for twelve years. This pictures the world held under false religion. In the end they rebelled against this bondage (v. 4)... But the sinful, ungodly world has little power against religion inspired by Satan. To be truly delivered from such a yoke, you need a true knowledge of the Lord Jesus.
Commentators differ here. Others read the chapter as history alone, with a moral lesson about Lot.
- Yoke. Twelve years of service to Chedorlaomer is the background. Rejecting his rule is what brought the four invading kings.
- Revolt. The verse shows a world with only two options — serve against your will, or rebel to get free. Neither option delivers anyone.
- Reach. The war reached Lot because Lot had reached for Sodom. Settle in the world and you share its upheavals.
- Refuge. Abram's tent and altar offered nothing for conquerors to want, so the invasion passed him by.
- Rescue. Scripture records the clash of nations for one purpose: to let us watch God rescue one person He loves.
And in the fourteenth year came Chedorlaomer and the kings that were with him, and smote the Rephaim in Ashteroth-karnaim, and the Zuzim in Ham, and the Emim in Shaveh-Kirjathaim,
In the fourteenth year the eastern kings come back in force and crush three peoples before they ever reach Sodom. Commentators treat this as the first battle recorded in Scripture, and as a picture of a power the world cannot resist.
Verse 5 is the answer to the revolt of verse 4. Writers call it a campaign to win back a lost rule, wrecking cities on the way.
We have no record of a battle in the Scriptures until we reach Genesis 14. There four kings from the Mesopotamian district made an expedition towards the Dead Sea. They ravaged cities as they marched, and finally defeated the five kings of the cities of the plain… Chedorlaomer was apparently the overlord of the kings with him, and he had extended his rule over the region of Sodom. The rejection of his rule was the reason for the expedition.
The first name in the list is a Hebrew word that older translations left untranslated.
rapha means "a fearful one." In the plural, with "the" in front, it works as a proper name: the REPHAIM, or sons of Raphah. They were a race of giants who lived beyond the Jordan, and Og the giant king of Bashan came from them… At times the term Rephaim applies to any people in Canaan who were of great stature… The word Rephaim is untranslated in Gen. 14:5.
The Emim, last in the list, got their name from the people who later took their land.
A people, described as "great, and many, and tall, as the Anakim," who lived on the east of the Dead Sea. Chedorlaomer and his allied kings struck them down. Their land later passed to the Moabites, who called the people EMIM, that is, "terrible."
Ashteroth-karnaim, the first battlefield in the verse, is named after a goddess:
Ashteroth-Karnaim — Double-horned Astarte (Phoenician); Venus.
Chedorlaomer is not a legend. Commentators point to the sheer scale of his reach.
King of Elam in the time of Abram… The inscriptions carry the name of KHUDUR-LAGAMAR king of Elam, thought to be the same as Chedorlaomer. He had subdued the five kings near the Dead Sea. That was some 700 miles away across the desert, or 1,000 by the Euphrates and through the land of Canaan.
One writer sets that fame beside a man who left no records at all:
At this point in the Scripture narrative we come to names of people that the archaeologists believe they can identify from their research into the past. Some of these greater kings, such as Amraphel and Chedorlaomer, left their mark on very ancient records. Abram the pilgrim left no mark of that kind. Years before, he had cut himself off from their cities and their whole way of life.
The kings crush six nations before they even reach Sodom. One writer sees in that advance a picture of false religion holding the world down:
The five kings were subject to Chedorlaomer for twelve years — a picture of the world held under false religion — but at last they rebelled against this bondage (v. 4)… Chedorlaomer and his allies began by defeating six nations (vv. 5-7) before they came to Sodom and Gomorrah… But the ungodly world of the flesh has little power against religion inspired by Satan. To be truly delivered from such a yoke, you need a true knowledge of the Lord Jesus.
These armies swept through the region, but the fight was never Abram's.
His tent marked him as a stranger to all these things. To him the battle of "four kings with five" would be a matter of very small importance. And his altar marked him as one whose pursuits were of quite another character, a heavenly one… It did not matter to Abram whether the crown of victory was about to rest on the head of the king of Sodom or of Chedorlaomer, king of Elam. His portion was not in danger through their strife.
- Revolt — Twelve years of submission ended in revolt, so the eastern kings came back. Verse 5 is the first blow of that campaign, not a random raid.
- Giants — The Rephaim were a race of giants living beyond the Jordan. The Emim were tall too, their name means "terrible," and Moab later took their land.
- Reach — Chedorlaomer struck some 700 miles from home, and ancient inscriptions carry his name. Abram the pilgrim left no monument at all.
- Pattern — Six nations fell before the kings even reached Sodom. One writer reads that advance as a picture of the world held down by false religion.
- Distance — The armies swept past a man with a tent and an altar; what he owned was never on the battlefield.
and the Horites on their mount Seir, to El-Paran, which is by the wilderness.
This verse sits inside a list of conquests. Four kings from the east swept south, and the Horites of Seir were one more people in their path. The names are strange and the places remote. So why does Scripture keep such a careful record of a war Abram had not yet joined?
The verse names the people struck in Mount Seir. They were the original inhabitants of that region, and their name points to how they lived:
Descendants of Seir, and the original inhabitants of Mount Seir. The children of Esau destroyed them. It is thought that they were cave-dwellers, as the name implies. The sandstone rocks of Mount Seir are full of dwellings cut into the rock. There are traces of the same throughout the region of Edom.
The mountain itself may carry a man's name:
Seir was a Horite who lived in the land, and as a chief he may have given his name to Mount Seir. The Horim were dispossessed by the children of Esau.
The march reaches El-paran, on the border of the wilderness. That name marks a spot in the far south:
Some translations put 'the plain of Paran' in the margin. It may have been a boundary mark in the wilderness of Paran, in the south of Palestine.
Chedorlaomer was no local chief. The scale of his reach says something about how early organised power arose — and how it ended:
In the days of Abraham we hear of Chedorlaomer, king of Elam. He and his three allies came 2,000 miles to punish the kings under his rule in the valley of Siddim. That is plain proof of early power. Yet the father of the faithful punished him hard.
Here the record touches ground that spades have reached:
It is an interesting fact that at this point in the Bible's story we come to names of people that archaeologists believe they can identify. Their digging into the past has turned these names up. Some of these greater kings, such as Amraphel and Chedorlaomer, left their mark on very ancient records. Abram the pilgrim would leave no mark of that kind. Years before, he had cut himself off from their cities and their whole way of life.
The Horites lost Seir twice over — first to this raid, later to Esau's descendants. One writer looks at the same peoples in Deuteronomy and sees God's purpose behind the change:
The possessions referred to here had long ago been in the hands of giants. But it was God's purpose to give their territories to the children of Esau and Lot, and so He destroyed these giants. Who or what can stand in the way of what God has planned?
Commentators also read this march as a picture:
The five kings became subject to Chedorlaomer for twelve years. This pictures the world under the control of false religion. In the end they rebelled against this bondage (v. 4). But false religion can be determined and strong, as the history of the professing church through the middle ages teaches us. Chedorlaomer and his allies began by defeating six nations (vv. 5-7) before they approached Sodom and Gomorrah.
The chapter ends with a reversal. One man stood outside this whole struggle, and he was the one who rescued its victims:
Turning away from the world is the path to victory over it. Choosing it means being held captive by its power. The powerful ones of the earth carry Lot away captive, along with the people his worldly leanings had led him to live among. Abram is free and walks in the faith of God. From God he has more force than all the kings, conquerors or conquered. He delivers Lot and the kings who could not help themselves.
- Sweep — Four kings came 2,000 miles and crushed people after people. The Horites of Seir were one of them, and the march reached the desert edge at El-paran.
- Cave — The Horites were the first people of Seir. Their name points to the rock dwellings still visible there, and the mountain may carry the name of one of their chiefs.
- Land — Seir changed hands more than once. God's purpose stood behind the change, and no power can block it.
- Monument — The invaders left their names in ancient records. Abram left none. He had already walked away from their cities and their way of life.
- Victory — The man who refused the world rescued the man who chose it.
And they returned, and came to En-mishpat, which is Kadesh, and smote all the country of the Amalekites, and also the Amorites that dwelt at Hazazon-Tamar.
Four kings are sweeping back on a long raiding march, striking the Amalekites and the Amorites before they turn on Sodom and carry Lot away. The verse reads like a list of names, yet it holds the Bible's first mention of Amalek, its first mention of Kadesh, and a war that Abram watches from outside.
Verses 5 to 7 are not a detour. They show a power crushing everything in its path before it ever reaches the cities of the plain.
Chedorlaomer and his allies began by defeating six nations (vv. 5-7) before approaching Sodom and Gomorrah. Then the king of Sodom and Gomorrah, with three other kings, went out to engage the four kings in battle (vv. 8-9).
The places named run from mountain country to open desert.
So the whole world becomes a scene of warring interests and selfish conflicts — high places and lower ones alike, the mountain or the wilderness (v. 6).
The verse gives this place two names. Kadesh, the second one, enters the Bible right here, and it returns again and again in Israel's later history.
This place is first mentioned in connection with the battle of the kings, when Lot was taken captive (Gen. 14:7). It was one of the stopping places of the Israelites, and they stayed there a long time. From there they sent the twelve spies into the land. At the end of the thirty-eight years' wandering they came back to Kadesh, and Miriam died and was buried there. It was here also that Moses struck the rock when the people complained about water.
The older name has a meaning of its own. A list of Genesis names gives it plainly:
En-mishpat — Fountain of judgment.
The last place struck goes by another name in Scripture.
Same as En-gedi. Gen. 14:7. It is Hazazontamar in 2 Chr. 20:2.
These Amorites were not strangers to Abram.
He was at the time living by the oaks of Mamre the Amorite, who with his two brothers were allies of Abram. In later years a link of this kind would have been wrong, but at this time "the iniquity of the Amorites was not yet complete" (Gen. 15:16), and the Lord makes no issue of it.
Amalek appears here for the first time. The timing raises a question commentators cannot settle.
This early mention seems to show that the Amalekites were not the descendants of Amalek, the son of Eliphaz, the son of Esau (Gen. 36:12). Unless, that is, Scripture is naming the land that the descendants of Eliphaz would later occupy.
This first mention matters because of what Amalek becomes later:
From Numbers 24:20 we learn that "Amalek was the first of the nations." He had won that place of supremacy by natural power and skill, long before Israel had become a nation. Here was Amalek, the man after the flesh, who had made himself great, resenting the intrusion of a people that God had chosen for Himself (Ex. 17).
Abram is nowhere in this verse, and that absence is the point.
His tent marked him as a stranger to all these things. It marked him as a man to whom the battle of "four kings with five" hardly mattered. And then his altar marked him as one whose pursuits were quite of another character, even a heavenly one. His tent showed him to be a stranger on earth; his altar showed him to be at home in Heaven.
Staying outside the fight did not mean staying still. When the raid carried off Lot, Abram acted.
He was not taking sides with the four kings of the Babylonian empire, or with the five kings of the cities of the plain. He had no need to enter the conflict to defend himself. It was for the express purpose of delivering a brother who had come under the power of the world.
- Sweep. Six nations fall before Sodom is even touched. Mountain and desert alike become one scene of warring interests.
- Judgment. The stop named here is En-mishpat, "fountain of judgment." Its other name is Kadesh — later the place of Israel's long wandering, the spies, Miriam's grave, and the struck rock.
- Reach. Hazazon-tamar is another name for En-gedi. The Amorites struck there share a name with Mamre, Abram's ally, whose guilt was not yet full.
- Enemy. Amalek first appears in this verse, long before Esau's grandson of that name. Commentators cannot settle the puzzle, but Amalek comes to stand for the power that resents God's chosen people.
- Outside. Abram's tent and altar kept him clear of the whole conflict. He entered it only to rescue a brother who had fallen under the world's power.
And the king of Sodom and the king of Gomorrah, and the king of Admah, and the king of Zeboim, and the king of Bela, which is Zoar, went out, and they joined battle with them in the vale of Siddim,
Five kings march out and draw up for battle against the invaders who had ruled them. Why does Scripture record a war between pagan cities? And what happens to a believer living in the middle of it?
The chapter names armies, alliances and a battlefield. Abram appears nowhere. One writer draws the contrast from the two things Abram owned:
Here we have a very detailed account of a battle fought by "four kings with five." We may ask: what did this fight between "the potsherds of the earth" have to do with the history of the people of God? With Abram none, in one sense, for he was outside it all. His tent marked him as a stranger to all these things. It marked him as one to whom the battle of "four kings with five" mattered very little... His tent showed him to be a stranger on earth — his altar showed him to be at home in heaven. It did not matter to Abram who won the victory wreath — the king of Sodom or Chedorlaomer, king of Elam. His portion was not in danger through their strife, because he kept it in the place "where thieves do not break in and steal."
The account breaks in with no explanation. One commentator sees that silence as deliberate:
Notice how abruptly this comes in. God leaves us to form a spiritual judgment about how it connects with what came before... War was no such uncommon matter; but there was something very unusual in the results of this battle. God ordered things so as to draw everyone's attention unmistakably to Himself. There was a lesson shown to the world, and a lesson now taught to Lot, that ought not to be forgotten.
Scripture ties this battlefield to the Salt Sea, and its ground was dangerous:
One passage reads "the Valley of Siddim (that is, the Salt Sea)"; another says the valley was "full of bitumen pits," that is, springs of tar. It was no doubt near the Salt Sea, though its exact site is unknown.
The five kings lose this battle. One writer sees more than politics in it:
The five kings served Chedorlaomer for twelve years. This pictures the world under the rule of false religion. At last they rebelled against this bondage (v. 4)... Then the king of Sodom and Gomorrah, with three other kings, went out to engage the four kings in battle (vv. 8-9). But the sinful, godless world has little power against religion inspired by Satan. Only a true knowledge of the Lord Jesus can free you from such a yoke.
Lot, Abram's relative, had settled in Sodom, one of the cities marching out here. That address decides everything for him:
Abram's happy lot was to have his life and his portion in a place where wars could have no influence. It was not so with his more worldly-minded relative. His position placed him right in the middle of the strife. So the outcome of this battle was of the deepest importance to him. If the child of God will stoop so low as to mix himself up with the world, he must expect to share in its upheavals.
The same failure shows up as a lack of power when the fighting starts:
It is still true that the believer who settles down in the world has no power against the world. Where there is not the faith that keeps the coming glory in view, there is not the faith to overcome the present evil world. This is the case of Lot... In the end, living in Sodom, he finds that on the day of conflict he is a lonely man. He has no strength, no friends to help, and cannot count on God's support. Powerless in the day of battle, he falls captive to his enemies.
One writer looks past this battle to where such conflicts end:
Genesis 14 presents the conflicts of the world — nations warring against nations. In them the believer who has refused the world gains the victory. The believer who walks by sight falls under its power. We also learn where the world's conflicts finally lead. Through the judgments of God they end in the deliverance of God's people and the setting up of the reign of Christ as Priest and King.
- Position decides. Abram's tent and altar kept him outside a war that swallowed Lot; where you live decides what you get dragged into.
- Revolt without power. The five kings threw off a twelve-year yoke and lost — the godless world has little strength against the power that holds it.
- Settled, then seized. Lot did not choose this battle; he chose Sodom, and the battle came with the address. The believer who settles in the world has no power against it and stands alone on the day of conflict.
- The end of all wars. These conflicts point on to God's judgments, the deliverance of His people, and Christ reigning as Priest and King.
with Chedorlaomer the king of Elam, and Tidal the king of nations, and Amraphel the king of Shinar, and Arioch the king of Ellasar -- four kings with the five.
Genesis 14:9 lines up two groups of kings who met in battle near the Dead Sea. It reads like a page of ancient political history, so why is it in the Bible at all, and what has Abram to do with it?
The Bible records no earlier battle. One writer fills in the background and explains what "king" means here:
We can have little doubt that the confusion of tongues at Babel, and the division of mankind into nations that followed, must soon have given rise to fighting and regular warfare. But we have no record of a battle in the Scriptures until we reach Genesis 14. Then four kings from the Mesopotamian district marched towards the Dead Sea, destroying cities as they went, and in the end defeated the five kings of the cities of the plain. Most of the "kings" mentioned, if not all, were leaders of single cities — what we would now call petty chiefs. Chedorlaomer seems to have been the overlord of the kings with him. He had extended his rule over the region of Sodom. The rejection of his rule was the reason for the expedition.
Far larger wars get no mention in the Bible. One writer explains why this one does:
Every detail about His own people in this world is of the deepest interest to God. That is a most precious fact. He numbers our hairs. He takes account of our tears. He remembered Paul's need of a cloak. He noticed how weak Timothy's stomach was. In God's sight a small raid matters more, when His people are caught up in it, than the mightiest military campaigns that do not touch them. This is why Scripture gives a whole chapter to Chedorlaomer's attack on Southern Palestine (Gen. 14). Many of the great wars of the ancient world, which historians write about at length, get no notice in Scripture at all.
The alliances on both sides picture how the nations behave:
The chapter opens with a solemn picture of this present evil world. In this scene the nations form themselves into groups. They make alliances to push their own advancement, and to defend themselves from attack.
Abram is missing from both battle lines. One writer, quoting the older wording "four kings with five," treats that absence as the point of the scene:
Here we have a very detailed account of a battle fought by "four kings with five." We may ask: what did this quarrel between "the potsherds of the earth" have to do with the history of the people of God? With Abram indeed none, in one sense, for he was outside it all. His tent marked him as a stranger to all these things. It marked him as one to whom the battle of "four kings with five" would be a matter of very small importance. His tent showed him to be a stranger on earth. His altar showed him to be at home in Heaven.
F. B. Hole notes what became of these names outside the Bible:
At this point in the Scripture story we come to names of people that archaeologists believe they can identify from digging up the past. Some of these greater kings, such as Amraphel and Chedorlaomer, left their mark on very ancient records. But no mark of that kind would be left by Abram the pilgrim, who years before had cut himself off from their cities and their whole way of life.
Commentators differ on what the two coalitions picture. One reading takes the invaders as false religion and the cities of the plain as the open wickedness that cannot resist it:
Then the king of Sodom and Gomorrah, with three other kings, went out to engage the four kings in battle (vv. 8-9), but the fleshly, ungodly world has little power against satanically inspired religion. To be properly delivered from such a yoke it is necessary to have a true knowledge of the Lord Jesus.
Another writer notes that the verse itself makes a point of counting them, and reads the same contrast:
These four kings — and the verse calls our attention specially to the number here (v. 9) — are at war with the five petty kings of the plain of Jordan. As a type, the five stand for the world in its open and sensual wickedness. The Babylonian kings stand for the religious world-power, always seeking to hold that more open evil captive, and usually succeeding.
One writer looks forward instead, seeing this clash and its outcome as a preview:
In that conflict of the kings, four against five, Abraham's nephew, who lived in Sodom, was taken captive with all his goods. Abraham heard of this. He armed his three hundred and eighteen trained servants, chased the enemy, struck them, and rescued his nephew and all his goods, his women and his people. This no doubt pictures our Lord delivering His people by the victory of Armageddon and the deliverance of Jerusalem.
- War. The verse records the first battle in the Bible. Four eastern rulers under Chedorlaomer faced five city-chiefs who had thrown off his rule.
- Reason. This war is in the Bible because one of God's people was caught in it. Small events that touch His people outweigh great ones that do not.
- Weakness. The five could not stand against the four. Open wickedness has little strength against the religious power that holds it captive.
- Distance. Abram appears in neither battle line. His tent and altar made him a stranger to the quarrel, and he left no mark in the world's records.
- Rescue. What the armies could not do, faith did — a picture, one writer says, of the Lord delivering His people in a conflict still to come.
And the vale of Siddim was full of pits of asphalt. And the kings of Sodom and Gomorrah fled, and fell there and they that remained fled to the mountain.
The battle of the kings ends in a valley where the ground itself becomes the enemy. The defeat looks unrelated to Abram, yet the whole chapter hangs on it, because a believer was living in the city that lost.
The valley is named twice in the chapter, and the ground itself matters. The "bitumen pits" of the verse are the "slime-pits" of older translations — natural tar springs near the Salt Sea:
One passage reads "the vale of Siddim, which is the salt sea," and another says the vale was "full of slime-pits," that is, bitumen springs (Gen. 14:3, 8, 10). It was no doubt near the Salt Sea, but its exact site is unknown.
The kings picked this ground themselves, and it trapped them. One writer reads the detail as a picture:
The valley of Siddim was full of slime pits in which the kings of Sodom and Gomorrah became trapped. This is the very picture of the ungodly, snared in their own sinful lusts, the slime of this world. Others who escaped this fled to the hill country. Yet they could hardly carry much in the way of their possessions with them.
This is the first war in the Bible, and writers read its numbers as part of the message. Four kings came against five:
The first battle recorded in Scripture is only a picture of the last great battle, still to come. Some remarkable features come to light here in Genesis 14. We read of four kings, and four suggests what is universal. These make war with the five kings, and five is the number of human weakness. The kings stand for the natural strength of man, which everyone boasts about. They also stand for the real condition underneath it, which is weakness.
The fighting did not stay in the distant east. God steered it close to the place where His witness lived, and the rout in this valley leads straight to verse 12:
These kings then came to a conflict, which did not rage at all in the far-off east where some of those in the strife had come from. God's deliberate hand brought it close to the spot where His witness walked. We see them in the vale of Sodom. There things came to an end that seemed final. … Now comes the connection with our story in verse 12.
Lot is not named in this verse, but he had made his home in the plains of Sodom. The city's defeat became his own:
As long as grace enables us to walk the path of simple faith, we stand completely outside the range of this world's circumstances. But our high and holy position is that of people whose "citizenship is in heaven." If we give it up and seek a name, a place, and a portion in the earth, we must expect to share in earth's upheavals and changes. Lot had made his home in the plains of Sodom, so the wars of Sodom hit him deeply and keenly.
Settling in the world also costs a believer his strength:
It is still true that the believer who settles down in the world has no power against the world. Where there is not the faith that keeps the coming glory in view, there is not the faith to overcome the present evil world. This is the case of Lot. He never overcame, but was constantly overcome by one evil influence after another. … In the end, living in Sodom, he finds that on the day of conflict he is a lonely man. He has no strength, no friends to help, and cannot count on the support of God.
The mud is not the end of the story. Out of this short conflict came something that lasts:
And note this. In Psalm 110, the oath of God made Christ "a priest forever after the order of Melchizedek." So is it wrong to say that out of this passing conflict in the slime pits of Sodom comes a spiritual result that lasts "forever"?
- Ground. Bitumen springs — natural tar pits — filled the vale of Siddim near the Salt Sea. The battlefield the kings chose was itself a trap.
- Fall. The kings of Sodom and Gomorrah sank in those pits — a picture of the ungodly caught in their own lusts. The rest escaped to the hills with almost nothing.
- Weakness. Four stands for what is universal, five for human weakness. The strength man boasts of collapses on its own ground.
- Address. God brought this war right beside His witness. Lot had moved into Sodom, so he had no strength on the day of battle and lost with the city he had joined.
- Outcome. Out of this passing defeat in the mud comes a result that lasts forever: the priesthood of Melchizedek, which Psalm 110 gives to Christ.
And they took all the property of Sodom and Gomorrah, and all their victuals, and departed.
Genesis 14:11 is the moment the winners collect their prize. The four kings carry off everything Sodom and Gomorrah owned, down to the food. Why does Scripture pause over an ancient border war? And what happens to a believer whose whole estate sits inside the losing city?
The verse lists two kinds of plunder: goods and provisions. The land itself had already done half the work of beating Sodom's army.
The valley of Siddim was full of slime pits in which the kings of Sodom and Gomorrah became trapped. This is the very picture of the ungodly being snared in their own sinful lusts, the slime of this world. Others who escaped this fled to the hill country. Yet they could hardly carry much of their property with them. The four kings took the goods and food supply of their defeated foes. They also took Lot captive, along with his goods.
Scripture usually passes over the wars of nations. This one it tells in detail.
The history of nations and the movements of mighty kings and conquerors have always interested the Holy Spirit for one reason: their connection with the history of the people of God. He could find no pleasure in dwelling on the mere history of man. The busy strife and noise of nations could not attract the notice of the Spirit of peace. Neither could the fierce contests of ungodly tyrants grasping after power, or the movements of armies. Yet when such things became even slightly connected with the history of a "righteous soul," the Holy Spirit can be very detailed in describing the circumstances of a battle.
The chapter opens on alliances, campaigns and spoil. Commentators read that as a portrait of the world as it still is.
The chapter opens with a solemn picture of this present evil world. It is a scene in which the nations form themselves into groups and enter into alliances to carry out their schemes of self-advancement and to defend themselves from attack.
Abram was living apart from all of this; Lot had moved his interests into the city. The loss of Sodom's goods was therefore his loss too.
His tent showed him to be a stranger on earth; his altar showed him to be at home in Heaven. It did not matter to Abram which king won the day, because his portion was not in danger through their strife. Though it was Abram's happy lot to have his life and his portion in a place where wars could not touch him. It was not so with his more worldly-minded relative. Lot's position put him right in the middle of the strife. So the outcome of this battle was bound to matter to him. If the child of God will stoop so low as to mix himself up with the world, he must expect to share in its upheavals.
The loss was total.
The kings made him a prisoner and took all his goods. He had laid up treasure for himself on earth, and the thieves had broken in. Abram was above it all, in the separating power of communion with God. Lot found himself a prisoner and a beggar.
The plunder of the cities had a purpose beyond the four kings' greed.
When saints take a wrong course, they are never left without warning. Lot has settled down in the plains of Sodom, and God sends four kings to drive him out. All his coveted wealth is taken, and he himself a captive. If Lot had had faith, he would have seen in this that Sodom was no place for him. But he did not see it. The fruitful plain, the rich pasture, the world's wealth, filled his eye and his heart. Lot ignored God's warning call. Abram rescued him and recovered his wealth, and Lot settled down again in his old place. Then a heavier judgment came.
Abram recovers all of it later in the chapter. The contrast between the two men is the point.
In the end Abram recovered everything, including Lot, his household and his possessions. How striking the picture, and how important its lesson for us! The man — even though he was "just" — grasped at the world with its outward prosperity and pleasures. He lost everything and found himself a captive. The man who gave up the world and walked with God was the only one in the whole region who could act in faith.
The rescue turned on a motive worth copying.
Abram reached his goal of freeing Lot. He also freed others and recovered the property the kings had taken. Do we have such energy of faith to seek to recover saints of God who have been trapped by falsehood? It was not anger against the enemy that moved Abram, but love for his brother.
- Choice — Lot's position, not bad luck, put him inside the plunder. A believer who mixes with the world shares its upheavals.
- Capture — the kings took the goods, the food supply and Lot himself. The pits of their own valley trapped the losing kings.
- Loss — treasure laid up on earth was gone in a day. The man who chose the best land ended as a prisoner and a beggar.
- Warning — God sent the four kings to drive Lot out. The loss should have shown him Sodom was no place for him. He missed it.
- Recovery — everything came back through the one man who had given the world up. Love for his brother moved him, not anger at the enemy.
And they took Lot and his property, Abram's brother's son, and departed. For he dwelt in Sodom.
Genesis 14 tells of a war between kings. In the middle of the battle report, the verse stops to say where Lot was living — and that one clause explains why he is now a prisoner.
Lot did not arrive in Sodom in one move. Writers trace the change of wording from one chapter to the next.
It is worth noticing what happened to Lot. In an earlier chapter he chose all the plain of Jordan and "pitched his tent toward Sodom" (Gen. 13:12). He has now taken a further step on his downward course, for here we read that he "dwells in Sodom." We may be sure that it was never Lot's intention to dwell in Sodom when he pitched his tent toward it. But one false step leads to another. Drawing near to the world, he is soon in the world. And living in the world, he gets caught up in its conflicts and falls captive to its power.
Writers also note what he gave up to get there — the tent he had lived in.
Verse 12 lets us see another step in the downward course of Lot. He was not content with pitching his tent toward Sodom. He had now given up tent life altogether and taken a permanent home in the wicked city. That spot was worse than Ur, the place he first left under Abram's guidance. He now shared the fate of the people of Sodom, and the enemy carried him away captive with all his house.
The Bible records where Abraham lived and where Lot lived. Writers see purpose in that.
Is it not striking that the Spirit of God mentions in Genesis 13:12 that Abraham dwelt in the land of Canaan, and that Lot dwelt in the cities of the plain? Then in Genesis 14:12 He adds, "For he dwelt in Sodom." He says it as though to give point to what He had just recorded about Lot being carried away into captivity. No one can dwell in Sodom without breathing its poisoned air and feeling its polluting influences. Its people were wicked and great sinners before God. Poor Lot, by his associations, was helpless in the presence of the world.
When war came, Lot had nothing to fall back on where he stood.
At last, dwelling in Sodom, the day of conflict comes. He finds he is a lonely man, without strength and without friends to help. He cannot count on the support of God. Powerless in the day of battle, he falls a captive to his enemies.
The raiders took his possessions along with the man.
What then were the results of this contest to Lot? Ruin to him and his family. The enemy made him a prisoner and took all his goods (v. 12). He had laid up treasure for himself on earth, and the thieves had broken through. Abram was above it all, in the power — the separating power — of communion with God. Lot found himself a prisoner and a beggar.
Lot's capture became Abram's opportunity. Abram had every reason to blame him, and said nothing of the kind.
What was no small rebuke to Lot became the occasion for Abram. He came out as one who walked with God and trusted Him. He shows us, too, that power of grace which rises above whatever has personally been wrong. There was no doubt about Lot's failure in testimony. But Abram thought nothing about his faults now. What he saw was a righteous man swept away while the powers of the earth crashed together like clay pots. For no doubt Lot, despite everything, was righteous. This drew out his loving desire for Lot's rescue.
The rescue that follows changed Lot's situation, not Lot.
In Lot's case it is made clear once more that circumstances have not made him what he is. A change of circumstances does not change him. God's hand freed him by using another man, yet he is not really free. Soon we shall find him needing rescue again — this time from a place that escaped man's judgment but falls under God's.
- Drift. Lot pitched his tent toward Sodom, and then he lived in Sodom. No single step looked final, but "one false step leads to another."
- Dwelling. The verse gives the reason for the captivity: Lot was living in Sodom. Where a believer settles decides which conflicts he is caught up in.
- Powerlessness. Settled in the world, Lot had no strength against the world — alone, unsupported, and unable to count on God's help in the place he had chosen.
- Loss. He went to Sodom for gain and came out a prisoner and a beggar. The treasure he laid up on earth went to the raiders.
- Rescue. Abram, still in his tent, was free to go after him. But rescue from outside did not change Lot's heart.
And one who had escaped came and told Abram the Hebrew. And he dwelt by the oaks of Mamre the Amorite, the brother of Eshcol, and the brother of Aner. And these were Abram's allies.
One survivor of the war escapes and brings the news to Abram. Here Scripture calls him "the Hebrew" for the first time, and tells us where he lived and which neighbours stood with him.
The word "Hebrew" describes a crossing. Scripture attaches it to Abram only after a certain move.
The root of the word is "to pass over," as when one passes over a river, or from one region to another. Abraham was told to leave his country and his relatives and to go into the land of Canaan. The word Hebrew is not used until Abraham had left his country and was in the land of Canaan (Genesis 14:13). When he was there he was a "sojourner" in a strange country, living in tents (Hebrews 11:9). The name was therefore descriptive, and the people of the land could go to Abraham the "sojourner" and tell him that Lot had been taken prisoner.
Where does the name come from? It could point back to Abram's ancestor Eber, or to the river he crossed.
That Genesis 14:13 connects Abram with the crossing of the eastern river, rather than his distant ancestor Eber, seems clear. This was the regular Gentile name given to God's people by those outside — not Israel but Hebrews, as we find from the earliest to later times.
One word in this verse explains where Abram's strength came from.
One loaded word reveals the secret of Abram's power. Used of him here, it throws light on the whole scene: "Then one who had escaped came and told Abram the Hebrew." That word, family name though it may be, is still significant: it means "the passenger." So Peter urges us, as "sojourners and exiles," to "abstain from the passions of the flesh."
Lot had been taken prisoner; Abram was free to act. The difference between them carries a warning.
The only safeguard against the world taking you captive, dear friends, is to keep up pilgrim separation from it. Abraham had not settled down in the world, and God used him to free Lot. In the same way, the spiritual among God's people can sometimes set free those the world has trapped and led captive.
The verse also gives Abram's address, and the names of the three brothers who stood with him.
A fugitive from the battle brought news to Abram, who is here called "the Hebrew" for the first time (v. 13). He was at the time living by the oaks of Mamre the Amorite, who with his two brothers were allies of Abram. In later years a link of this kind would have been wrong, but at this time "the iniquity of the Amorites was not yet complete" (Gen. 15:16), and the Lord makes no issue of it.
Commentators read the alliance differently. One sees a tie the Lord left alone; another sees a picture in it.
When Abraham was at Hebron some formed an alliance with him (Genesis 14:13). A remnant out of the Gentile nations was in this way joined to the heir of promise, though Lot (a type of Israel after the flesh) had separated from him.
Being a passenger did not make Abram cold. One word in the message moved him.
Abram troubled himself very little with the quarrels of the broken pieces of earth. It mattered little to the pilgrim of Mamre what happened to the nations fighting around him. His expectations were set on a "city that has foundations, whose designer and builder is God." But when he learned that his "brother" was among these captives, his whole soul was stirred to rescue this "righteous" but easily tempted man from hostile hands.
- Crossed — "Hebrew" means one who passed over. Scripture uses it only after Abram left his own country to live as a sojourner in Canaan.
- Named — it was the word outsiders used for God's people, not a title Abram claimed for himself.
- Unsettled — Lot settled down in the world and was carried off; Abram stayed a passenger and stayed free.
- Free — because he had not settled down, God could use Abram to free the captive. Believers who keep clear of the world can help those trapped by it.
- Reachable — the wars of the nations meant nothing to Abram, but the word "brother" stirred his whole soul.
And Abram heard that his brother was taken captive; and he led out his trained [servants], born in his house, three hundred and eighteen, and pursued [them] as far as Dan.
Abram was living at the oaks of Mamre, well away from the war between the kings, when word reached him that Lot had been carried off. The man Lot had walked away from now arms his household to go after him — and only he could.
Note: where the ESV says "his kinsman," the older translation these writers use says "his brother." Several comments below turn on that word.
Abram had watched the armies march past without stirring. What moved him was not the war but the man inside it.
But this was the very moment for Abram to show himself in the powerful activities of love. Until now he had watched these movements of "kings and their armies" with calm indifference. Yet the same faith that made him indifferent to the quarrels of men made him quick to notice a brother in distress. Faith not only purifies the heart from worldly and fleshly desires; it also "works by love." Abram's case shows this with power.
The record calls Lot a brother here, and the timing of that word is not accidental.
Now notice this. In the hour of distress and difficulty, the relationship of brother takes the prominent place. In days of untroubled peace Abram might know Lot as "his brother's son." But now Lot was in sorrow, so the claims of brotherhood act — and act with power and effect. True, he had argued over a piece of land — he had turned away from his old companion and settled at Sodom, but what of that? He was now in trouble, and so everything is forgotten except that they were brothers.
Abram could have said Lot brought this on himself. He said nothing of the kind.
There was no doubt about Lot's failure in testimony. But Abram thought nothing about his faults now. What he looked at was a righteous man swept away by the clashing powers of earth. Lot, despite everything, was truly righteous. This drew out his feelings of loving desire for Lot's rescue.
His motive puts a question to us.
Do we have such energy of faith to seek to recover saints of God who have been ensnared by falsehood? It was not anger against the enemy that moved Abram, but love for his brother.
Two words describe the men: trained, and armed. Both were true long before the news arrived.
Suppose Abram had gone into battle against the enemy without servants trained to bear arms. He and they would most likely have been overcome. But they were both trained and also armed. Training assumes a long and varied discipline in the house. Arms mean the right weapons of attack and defence for the moment. Lot had neither. Comfortable and settled, he imagined no enemy, so the attack caught him off guard and left him defenceless.
Their birthplace matters as much as their training: Abram's own house.
There is a lovely picture here of those born again in the house of God, the church of the living God. They have not needed the training of worldly wise men or of theological schools. God has trained them in His own house, the assembly of the living God. The best training happens there, in the fellowship of the saints of God. There He is free to teach in His own way, through every gift He has given to His saints.
The odds were hopeless on paper.
Scripture gives us no idea of the number of his opponents, but it does tell us the small number of Abram's forces — 318 besides himself. We believe it tells us this to show that Abram's action came from very extraordinary faith. The army he attacked must have been far stronger than his own, and it was flushed with victory at every point up to then. Yet he did not hesitate, and God was with him.
Two believers stand side by side here. Each outcome traces back to an earlier choice.
One man grasped at the world with its outward prosperity and pleasures. Even though he was "righteous," he lost everything and found himself a captive. The other gave up the world and walked with God. He alone in the whole region could act in faith, and the power of God answered that faith and gave him the victory.
Our own fight is not fought with swords.
The weapons of our warfare are not carnal, and we do not wrestle against flesh and blood. Even so, the Christian conflict is very real. We contend for the truth. We seek to deliver those in danger of falling into the religious world, and those it has already taken captive in its snares.
- Brother — trouble promotes the relationship. Once Lot was in distress, the old argument over land counted for nothing.
- Love — not anger at the enemy but love for one failing believer moved Abram, and he never raised Lot's faults.
- Trained — the discipline happened in the house, long before the emergency. An untrained, unarmed household has no defence when the enemy comes.
- Few — Scripture records the 318 against a victorious army so we see the faith, not the arithmetic. Abram did not hesitate, and God was with him.
- Free — only the man who had already let go of the world could go in and pull out someone the world had swallowed.
And he divided himself against them by night, he and his servants, and smote them, and pursued them as far as Hobah, which is to the left of Damascus.
Four conquering kings are heading home with plunder and captives. One of the captives is Abram's nephew Lot, and Abram has chased the kings the length of the land. This verse is the whole battle in one line. How does a man with 318 servants overturn an army fresh from crushing five kings?
Abram's force was tiny beside the armies he attacked.
One verse (v. 15) is enough to describe the battle of Abram with the four kings, and his decisive victory. No doubt his adversaries far outnumbered his force of 318 men, but the Lord does not depend on numbers. God rewarded Abram's faith by making his enemies flee as he pursued them for a long distance, to north of Damascus.
Another writer looks at how quickly Abram moved, and at what the small number proves.
Abram acted with great decision as soon as the news of this disaster reached him. He armed his servants, went after the victorious kings, caught up with them by night, and utterly defeated them. We are told nothing about the number of the enemy, but we are told the small number of Abram's forces — 318 besides himself. We are told this, we believe, to show that very extraordinary faith prompted Abram's action. The army he attacked must have been far stronger than his. It was also flushed with victory all along the line up to that point. Yet he did not hesitate, and God was with him.
Abram was a private man with a household, not a king with an army.
Here were victorious kings marching home with their armies. And here was a private individual, a pilgrim and a stranger. God so led and strengthened him that the victors are defeated in their turn, and the failing believer rescued.
The chapter sets the two men against each other.
But renouncing the world is the path to victory over it; the choosing of it is captive subjection to its power. Lot is carried away captive by the powerful ones of the earth, along with those among whom his worldly leanings had led him. Abram is free and walks in the faith of God. He has more force from Him than all the kings, conquerors or conquered. He delivers Lot, and he delivers the kings who could not help themselves.
Abram had every reason to leave Lot to the results of his own choice, and did not.
What was no small rebuke to Lot became the occasion for Abram to come out as one who walked with God and trusted Him. He also shows us that power of grace which rises above whatever had been wrong in a person. There was no doubt about Lot's failure in testimony. But Abram thought nothing about his faults now.
The same writer turns that motive into a question for the reader.
Do we have such energy of faith to seek to recover saints of God who have been ensnared by falsehood? It was not anger against the enemy that moved Abram, but love for his brother.
Abram could strike that night because he had prepared his house long before the news came. Lot's had not.
Suppose Abram had gone into conflict with the enemy without ready servants trained to bear arms. He and they too would probably have been overcome. But they were both trained and armed. Training means a long and varied discipline in the house. Arming means the right weapons of attack and defence for the occasion. All of these Lot lacked. At ease and settled here, he dreamed of no enemy, and so was taken unawares, and found defenceless.
The pursuit ran a long way north, past Damascus. Then Melchizedek came out to meet Abram. Commentators read the scene as a picture of Christ's final triumph.
Here we get Melchizedek, and a millennial picture. You have the heir of faith beating his enemies entirely, and then, looking at it as the accomplishment of victory, Melchizedek comes out to meet him... Seen as a picture, it is the final triumph. Christ is the Melchizedek who comes out to bless upward and bless downward. That is just what Christ will be in that day.
Kelly adds a caution about copying Abram directly: things "right enough morally" for him may still be unsuitable for a Christian, because the measure now is Christ Himself, and "God had not yet brought in any such unfolding of His mind as we have."
- Pursued by love. Abram moves because his brother is captive, not because he is angry at the invaders. He does not weigh Lot's failure.
- Pursued in weakness. 318 men went against an army fresh from victory. The small number shows extraordinary faith, and shows that the Lord does not depend on numbers.
- Pursued by a stranger. The private man defeats the kings. Whoever renounces the world gains power over it. Whoever chooses it is carried off by it.
- Pursued by the prepared. Abram's household was trained and armed long before the crisis, so the night attack succeeded. Lot, at ease, had neither, and the enemy caught him defenceless.
- Pursued to the end. The chase does not stop until Hobah, north of Damascus. The rout is total, and it opens straight into Melchizedek's blessing — a picture of Christ's final triumph.
And he brought back all the property, and brought again his brother Lot and his property, and the women also, and the people.
Genesis 14:16 closes Abram's rescue mission. Everything the invading kings had carried off comes back — every person and every possession. One question runs under that list: why was the man who had given up the world the only one able to recover what the world had lost?
The verse records an aim reached, not a bloodbath:
Nothing is said of any slaughter. Abram reached his aim of freeing Lot, and he freed others too and recovered the property that had been taken.
The two men end up in opposite positions. An earlier choice explains why:
In the end Abram recovered everything, including Lot, his household and his possessions. What a striking picture, and what an important lesson for us! One man grasped at the world with its outward prosperity and pleasures — and though he was a righteous man, he lost everything and ended up a captive. The other man gave up the world and walked with God. He was the only one in the whole region who could act in faith, and God's power answered that faith and gave him the victory.
Abram's distance from Sodom was not indifference to people. It was the very thing that freed him to help:
I may shut myself away from the world and make myself the centre of my own life, like a monk or a cynic. But separation to God is a completely different thing. The first chills and shrinks the heart; the second warms it and opens it out... So in Abraham's case, his separation was the very thing that let him give real help to a man who had landed himself in trouble by his worldly ways.
Lot had given Abram real reasons for complaint. Trouble wiped them all out:
True, he had argued about a piece of land. He had turned away from his older friend and settled in Sodom. But what of that? He was now in trouble, so everything is forgotten except one thing — they were brothers.
The odds turn the outcome into proof of God's hand, not a military win:
Lot had come to nothing. That was where following his own ideas led him, with his desires never judged. On the other side stood the power and honour of God with Abram. This was clearly not a natural affair. Here were winning kings marching home with their armies. And one private man, a pilgrim and a stranger, was so led and strengthened by God that the winners were beaten in their turn, and the believer who had failed was rescued.
Abram had once gone down to Egypt himself. That he had come back from it is why God could use him here:
Later Lot accepts the world and is captured by it. Abram is the recovered man, in the place where God can use him to free his brother from the enemy's trap... What we should long for is this: to let faith control us so completely that God can use us to free others from such ties, because we have overcome the enemy in these very things ourselves. While Abram was still in Egypt he had given up his pilgrim life, and he could not have rescued Lot from this trouble.
Getting Lot out of enemy hands did not get Sodom out of Lot:
Lot's case shows again, and it is a serious thing to see: circumstances have not made him what he is, and changing his circumstances does not change him. God's hand set him free through another man, yet he is not really free. Soon we will find him needing rescue once more — this time from what escaped man's judgment and falls under God's.
Melchizedek, the priest of the Most High God, does not meet Abram on the way out to battle. He comes at this point, when the fighting is over:
If Melchizedek had turned up to encourage Abraham before the campaign, that would have seemed natural. If he had prayed for his success, we would have thought it fitting for a priest of the Most High God. But his first and only meeting with Abraham came when Abraham needed no one to pray for him. He came to bless him after the victory, as he returned loaded with all the goods, with Lot and his goods, and the women and the people (Gen. 14:16).
- Choice — Lot grasped at the world and lost everything; Abram gave it up and was the only man in the region with power to act.
- Love — the quarrel over land is dropped the moment a brother is in trouble. Separation to God warms the heart; it does not chill it.
- Power — one pilgrim beats kings who were already flushed with victory. That marks the whole affair as God's doing.
- Recovery — a man frees others from what he has overcome himself. Abram in Egypt could not have rescued Lot.
- Limit — new circumstances do not make a new heart, so Lot will need rescuing again. The lasting outcome is not Lot's change but Abram's blessing from the priest of the Most High God.
And the king of Sodom went out to meet him after he had returned from smiting Chedorlaomer, and the kings that were with him, into the valley of Shaveh, which is the king's valley.
Abram comes back from the battle, and two kings come out to meet him in the same place. One wants to repay him. The other comes from God to bless him. The order of those two meetings is the whole lesson of the verse.
Abram had already beaten Chedorlaomer and the kings with him. Now the king of Sodom comes, not to fight but to offer favour. Commentators read this as a fresh attack in a different form.
The man of faith is not free from the enemy's attacks. Often, right after a victory, he has to face a fresh temptation. So it was with Abraham. "After his return from the defeat of Chedorlaomer and the kings who were with him, the king of Sodom went out to meet him." There was clearly a deep and cunning design of the enemy in this move. "The king of Sodom" presents a very different thought. It shows a very different side of the enemy's power from "Chedorlaomer and the kings who were with him." In the first we have the hiss of the serpent. In the second, the roar of the lion.
The king of Sodom set out to meet Abram, but he was not the first to reach him. Writers see God's care in that sequence.
Abraham returns from defeating the kings in victory. And the king of Sodom comes out to meet him. The Lord knew that would be a critical moment for Abraham, and He knows all about our future path. It is hidden from us, but He has given us His word as a lamp for our feet and a light for our path. So we may see the end, and have light for every step. But God sees the end from the beginning. He knows what will happen to us, and He knows how to prepare us for it. This was a moment of temptation to Abraham, and God gives Melchizedek to meet him first. God knows how to fill in all the blanks.
Commentators ask why Melchizedek did not come sooner.
Why did "the priest of the Most High God" not come to meet Abram earlier? Because this was the very moment when Abram most needed the strength he had to bring. The enemy was about to dangle his glittering bait before the eyes of the man of God. So Melchizedek is on hand to show him the divine realities of the kingdom.
The verse names the meeting place twice: Shaveh, and the King's Valley. Commentators dwell less on where it stood than on what its name pictures.
Melchizedek's ministry, king of Salem, in the valley of Shaveh — the King's valley — had strengthened Abraham, so that he was able to meet and overcome the alluring favours of the king of Sodom. And it is only as we remain in the King's valley, the low place, that we experience the priestly support of our true Melchizedek, the One who says, "I am gentle and lowly in heart."
The king of Sodom sets out here, but his offer comes later. By then, the meeting with Melchizedek has changed Abram.
The king of Sodom had gone out to meet the victorious Abram, as mentioned in verse 17, but he does not really come into the picture until verse 21. Wanting to repay Abram, he offered him all the goods of Sodom that he had recovered. The way Abram declined the offer is very striking. Through Melchizedek's ministry he now knew God in a new way. Now he was in touch with the Possessor of heaven and earth. So the goods of Sodom had no value for him, however attractive they might have seemed to others. What is more, they were all stained with the terrible sins of that city, and they brought defilement with them.
Writers see in this scene a preview of Christ's future reign.
Melchizedek fully foreshadows the millennial glory of the Lord Jesus Christ. See Zechariah 6:9-13. He will receive His own throne and be a priest upon that throne. Significantly he appeared suddenly when Abraham was returning from defeating the allied kings. And then he blessed Abraham and made God known to him as the Most High (the millennial name of God), the possessor of heaven and earth. In the same way the true Melchizedek will one day appear, and after the defeat of the kings will begin His glorious rule.
- Victory — Abram beat the kings before verse 17. Then came a different danger: the king of Sodom came with favour, not force.
- Timing — God sent Melchizedek to reach Abram first, at the exact moment of need, not earlier.
- Place — The meeting happens in the King's Valley, the low place, where we receive the support of our true Melchizedek.
- Effect — Knowing God as Possessor of heaven and earth drained Sodom's goods of all attraction for Abram.
- Foreshadowing — The same order comes again. Christ defeats the kings, appears as King-Priest with blessing, and begins His glorious rule.
And Melchisedec king of Salem brought out bread and wine. And he was priest of the Most High God.
Two kings come out to meet Abram after his rescue of Lot, and God arranges for the stranger to arrive first. This stranger is a king and a priest at once, and he comes with bread and wine.
The weight of the verse rests on two titles held by one man. Who else in Scripture is both king and priest?
He was a real man, not an imaginary figure — a man like any of us, but a king and a priest together. Melchizedek was priest of the Most High God, and both Testaments describe him that way (Gen. 14:18; Heb. 7:1). God owned him as a priest. He was also King of Salem — the city we believe was later known as Jerusalem. So he held both offices in himself, which is true of no one else but the Lord Jesus Christ. The parallel goes further, since the writer of Hebrews notes that we are told nothing about this mysterious man's parents, family line, birth, or death: he has "neither beginning of days nor end of life, but resembling the Son of God he continues a priest forever" (Heb. 7:3).
Hebrews translates both his name and the name of his city. The order matters.
First his name is Melchizedek, that is, "King of righteousness." Then he is "King of Salem," that is, "King of Peace." That order is always a principle in God's ways. In the millennium righteousness must first have its way before peace can come in... This is of course as true for the present as for the future, and fulfilled in the gospel in a far more wondrous way. As the effect of righteousness by the Cross peace has come to us, and our Melchizedek has indeed made good His name.
Melchizedek serves God under a particular name: "God Most High." That name says something about who God is.
But above all he was priest of the Most High God. This is the name of God as supreme Governor of all things, and Genesis adds: Possessor of heaven and earth... In Abraham's walk of faith, the name of God for him was "The Almighty." But here Abraham has won a victory over the kings of the earth. So Melchizedek, the king of righteousness, blesses him in connection with God as Possessor of heaven and earth, the Most High. This looks onward to the royalty of Christ, a Priest upon His throne, when by the will and the power of God He shall have triumphed over all His enemies.
Did he offer the bread and wine to God as a sacrifice? William Kelly says no, and points to what the scene lacks.
The priesthood here is clearly unlike any other. Melchizedek offers no sacrifice, and there is no intercession either. He brings out bread and wine for man, without a word of sprinkling blood before God.
The two elements carry their plain, everyday use: one feeds, the other gladdens.
Melchizedek, King of Salem (King of righteousness, King of peace) appears with bread, which speaks of the food that keeps life going. He also brings wine, which speaks of joy (Psalm 104:15). He came on the scene as "priest of God Most High," "Possessor of heaven and earth."
He did not appear during the battle. He appeared in the gap between Abram's victory and the king of Sodom's offer.
This stranger, commissioned by God, was on his way to fortify Abram's heart at the very moment when the enemy was on his way to attack... The enemy was about to hold out his shiny bait in front of the man of God. So Melchizedek is on hand to set the realities of God's kingdom before his eyes. He was about to feed and strengthen Abram's soul with the "bread" of the kingdom, and cheer him with its "wine," so that in the strength of that food he might rise above every attraction the world could offer.
So his ministry looks both ways: back over the fight just won, and on to the one about to begin.
The "bread and wine" refreshed Abraham's spirit after his fight with Chedorlaomer, the king he had just beaten. The blessing prepared his heart for his next fight, with the king of Sodom. Abraham had just conquered, and yet he was about to fight again. The royal priest refreshed the conqueror's spirit and strengthened the fighter's heart.
- Two crowns. King and priest meet in one man here — a pairing Scripture gives to no one else but Christ.
- Two names. Righteousness comes first, then peace: his name before his city, and the cross before our peace.
- Two hands. He brings bread and wine to a man, not a sacrifice to God — no blood and no intercession in this scene.
- Two conflicts. The bread and wine refresh the soldier coming out of battle. The blessing arms him for the temptation walking toward him.
- Two possessions. He names God "Most High, possessor of heaven and earth" Faith holds that title now. Christ will display it when He reigns as Priest upon His throne.
And he blessed him, and said, Blessed be Abram of the Most High God, possessor of heavens and earth.
Abram has just come back from rescuing Lot, and a king and priest named Melchizedek meets him with bread and wine. The blessing names God by a title that shapes everything Abram does next.
The title is not just another word for God. It points to one way in which He rules.
"Most High" is always the name of God that marks Him out as supreme over the earth. See, for instance, what Melchizedek said to Abraham when he came out to meet him, after the defeat of the kings who had carried off Lot: "Blessed be Abram by God Most High, Possessor of heaven and earth" (Gen. 14:19). The same name meets us in Daniel 4:24-25. There it presents God to Nebuchadnezzar as the One who, in His rule over the earth, was about to step in and judge him.
The title also answered the state of the world at that time.
When man went astray and made many gods and many lords, He was then the Most High God.
The bread and wine come with a second title, and it reaches over both realms.
Abram takes this food from the heavenly priest. He receives the blessing Melchizedek gives him, the blessing of the Most High. That title speaks of His supremacy over all — over kings and all the power of the enemy, King of kings and Lord of lords. He is "Possessor of heaven and earth." That title will be openly displayed in the coming thousand-year kingdom of our Lord, yet it is already true for faith at all times.
Melchizedek does not appear before the battle. That order is itself part of the picture.
The battle Abraham fought, the first one recorded in Scripture, is a picture of the last battle of this age. That conflict brings in the reign of peace founded on righteousness, when God will show Himself as the Most High God, possessor of heaven and earth. Sin cut the earth off from what is above it. Since then heaven and earth have not been joined, and the power of God has not taken hold of them for the blessing of man… But the day is coming when Israel will rebel no more and the nations will no longer be deceived. Satan will be thrown down from the evil height he holds, every idol will vanish, and God will be left the undisputed and plainly Most High, the possessor of heaven and earth.
Verse 19 blesses Abram; the next verse blesses God. Melchizedek's work as priest is not what one expects:
He does not offer sacrifices at all. He blesses up, and he blesses down. After the victory of Abram is complete, he blesses him from the Most High God, and then he blesses the Most High God.
And the direction of the blessing settles a question of rank — Abram, the man of promise, is the one receiving.
Abram owned goods on earth, but as yet he owned nothing of what God had promised him. To be blessed by the One who is Possessor of heaven and earth must have meant a great deal to him. Abram received the blessing, and he gave a tenth of everything… And since the greater blesses the lesser, we see, as Hebrews 7 points out, that as priest Melchizedek ranked above Abram and above the priesthood of Aaron.
The king of Sodom is waiting with an offer. Abram meets him holding the words he has just heard.
It is especially sweet to notice the way Melchizedek introduces God to Abraham's thoughts. He calls Him "God Most High, Possessor of heaven and earth." More than that, he declares Abraham "blessed" by that same God. This was what really prepared him for the king of Sodom. A man who was "blessed" by God did not need to take anything from the enemy. If "the Possessor of heaven and earth" filled his sight, "the goods" of Sodom could hold little attraction.
The scene also reaches into the present:
Melchizedek also pronounces a blessing on Abram (v. 19), just as the Lord Jesus pours His blessing on the church of God from heaven today. His hands were raised in blessing as He went up to glory after His resurrection, and this stays true through the whole present age of God's grace.
- Victory first. Melchizedek comes only after Abram defeats the kings. Scripture's first war pictures the last, and after it God stands out as Most High.
- Name. "Most High" is God supreme over the earth, the answer to a world that had multiplied gods.
- Gift. Abram owned none of the promise yet, and the One who owns heaven and earth called him blessed.
- Reach. The priest blesses downward to man and upward to God, and by blessing Abram he shows himself the greater.
- Result. Filled with the Possessor of heaven and earth, Abram had no appetite left for the goods of Sodom.
And blessed be the Most High God, who has delivered thine enemies into thy hand. And he gave him the tenth of all.
Abram comes home from rescuing his nephew, and a priest-king meets him with a blessing that runs both ways — from God to Abram, and from men back to God. Abram answers with a tenth of everything, which raises two questions: who won the battle, and who is greater than Abram?
Melchizedek speaks good of God as well as of Abram. One writer traces what that second blessing has to do with worship:
Blessing is often given a special meaning when addressed to God, and this meaning is closely related to worship and priestly service. The first priest in the Bible is Melchizedek, in Genesis 14. He came out to meet the victorious Abram, and he not only blessed Abram but also blessed God. This double blessing comes out from God to men, and then rises from men to God in response. Ephesians 1:3 shows it beautifully: "Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who has blessed us." To bless means to "speak good." God's speaking good about His people has enriched them beyond all human dreams. Our speaking good to God cannot and does not enrich Him. But such a response from His children answers His love and gives Him His true place. It always rises to Him as a sweet aroma.
The blessing gives God the credit for handing the enemies over. One writer turns that into a question for the reader:
Then, on Abram's behalf, Melchizedek blessed God for the victory that had been granted. "Blessed be God Most High, who has delivered your enemies into your hand!" Let us stop and ask ourselves a question here. Is the Lord on high able to give thanks for victories we have gained? Does victory or defeat mark our lives? Are we like Abram, overcomers of the world, or like Lot, overcome by the world?
Abram gives a tenth of everything, and Hebrews reads that act as a ranking. The one who receives tithes and pronounces blessing stands above the one who pays and is blessed:
Abram paid tithes to Melchizedek. More than that, Melchizedek blessed him. As we are told, "It is beyond dispute that the inferior is blessed by the superior." The person who gives a blessing is greater than the person who receives it. So Abram did not try to bless Melchizedek. Abram's act implied that he was under Melchizedek. Melchizedek's act implied that he was over Abram. Here is a double illustration and witness of surpassing dignity.
That ranking reaches past Abram to the priesthood that came later:
The inferior is blessed by the superior. So, as Hebrews 7 points out, Melchizedek as priest took precedence over Abram and over the Levitical priesthood of Aaron. Once we know the One this picture points to, how clear it becomes!
One writer applies that word "all" to the reader's own life:
Everything you own belongs to God, and you are only a steward. But while many readily admit this in a general way, that is not all we have to consider. God has a particular claim beyond it. He claims a place in your everyday calculations — not just any place, and not second place, but first place… You may give Him a large portion of your time, intellect or money in a legal spirit. You may think you can then use the rest for yourself. And you can still be far, far away from the blessing… We read that Abraham gave him tithes — not of some, but of ALL. These are the terms. Place is greater than portion.
Melchizedek does not plead for Abram; he blesses him. One writer draws out the character of that priesthood:
But the priestly act of Melchizedek was blessing, not intercession — blessing from the Most High God. This is priesthood exercised in its Melchizedek character. The King of righteousness and peace blesses the people God has accepted. What a blessed, refreshing thought — evil is gone, and blessing flows out unhindered through the great High Priest, the Priest of the Most High God, who possesses heaven and earth.
The king of Sodom then offers Abram the plunder, and Abram turns it down. One writer ties that refusal to what Abram had just received:
Abram won the second victory, brighter still than the first, through fellowship with the very springs of divine strength. The patriarch's spirit was in victory here, as his arm had been before. He had so taken in what the King of Salem said, and so fed on the bread and wine of that royal, priestly stranger, that the king of Sodom spread out his feast in vain. Abraham's soul had been in heaven, and he could not go back to the world.
- Blessing down. Melchizedek speaks good of Abram from God. All blessing starts in that direction.
- Blessing up. The same priest turns and speaks good of God — the response that Scripture ties to worship.
- Credit given. The blessing calls the victory God's deliverance, not Abram's achievement.
- Tenth returned. Abram's gift admits a greater than himself, and with him, a priesthood greater than Aaron's.
- World refused. Fed by the King of Salem, Abram had nothing left to want from Sodom.
And the king of Sodom said to Abram, Give me the souls, and take the property for thyself.
The battle is over and Sodom's king makes Abram an offer: keep the goods, just give back the people. Commentators call this a second battle — fought with a gift, not a sword — and they ask why Melchizedek appears just before it.
The world tried force against Abram and failed. Now it tries kindness, which writers see as the greater danger.
Abraham is not only victorious over the hostility of the world. He also stands firm against both its horrors and its gifts. We may rise above the world's hatred, and yet fall beneath its kindness. And we are never more in danger of a fall than in the moment of a victory. This the enemy knows full well and so comes with his temptations at a moment when we may be off guard.
Sodom's king goes out to meet Abram in verse 17, but he does not speak until verse 21. In between comes the priest with bread and wine.
This stranger, commissioned by God, was on his way to fortify Abram's heart at the very moment when the enemy was on his way to attack (compare verses 17, 18, and 21). So why did "the priest of the Most High God" not come to meet Abram earlier? Because this was the very moment when Abram most needed the strength he had to bring. The enemy was about to hold out his attractive bait in front of the man of God. So Melchizedek is there first, to set the divine realities of the kingdom before his eyes.
Sodom's king asks for the very lives Abram went to war to recover, and offers payment Abram never wanted. Older translations read "souls" where the ESV has "persons."
The king of Sodom tells Abram he will take the souls, but leave the goods to Abram. But it was for the sake of the soul of Lot that Abram had fought: he had no interest in the goods... The Possessor of heaven and earth had rescued Sodom. That should have driven Sodom to see they needed the same faith as Abram — a faith that gives God the first place. But the ungodly world only walks by sight, not by faith.
Abram had just heard that he was blessed by the God who owns heaven and earth. That changed what Sodom's goods were worth to him.
A man who was "blessed" by God did not need to take anything from the enemy. If "the possessor of heaven and earth" filled his vision, "the goods" of Sodom could hold little attraction... Abraham refuses to let the king of Sodom make him rich. How could he think of delivering Lot from the power of the world, if the world governed him? The only true way to deliver another is to be fully delivered myself.
There was a second reason to refuse.
Now that he was in touch with the Possessor of heaven and earth, the goods of Sodom had no value for him, however attractive they seemed to others. On top of that, they were all stained with the huge sins of that city, and they carried that defilement with them.
The king's offer looks generous. One writer points out that Abram's answer is more generous still, and that it does not stop with himself.
Abram at once shows us that faith is more generous still. He knows what it is to be rich toward God. He refuses to tarnish His testimony by anything that would let the king of Sodom say, "I have made Abram rich." At the same time he pleads for the others. However self-denying Abram's grace may be, his large heart does not forget what is due to those who did not have his faith. He asks for Aner, Eshcol, and Mamre, who had helped him.
The same test comes to Christ, and through Him to us.
The pilgrim man of faith sees Christ claiming, on God's part, all that is His own. That sight is the true antidote to the world's offers. Christ could not accept the kingdoms of the world from Satan's hand, but only from His Father. His followers can no more accept riches from a world that has rejected Christ for Satan. And that bread and wine which we receive from our true Melchizedek is the memorial of those sufferings that alone make us rich. For anyone who has tasted it, it means refusing a portion here.
- Victory — the moment after a win is the moment of greatest danger; the enemy who lost by force returns with a gift.
- Provision — God sent bread, wine and blessing before the offer came. He feeds His people ahead of the test.
- Fullness — the man who knows the Possessor of heaven and earth sees Sodom's goods as small. They are also stained with that city's sin.
- Refusal — Abram will not let the world claim credit for his wealth. Only a man free of the world can pull another out of it.
- Generosity — his refusal binds himself alone. He still asks that his allies receive their share.
And Abram said to the king of Sodom, I have lifted up my hand to Jehovah, the Most High God, possessor of heavens and earth,
The king of Sodom offers Abram all the recovered spoil. Abram answers with an oath, sworn under a name for God he had heard only minutes before.
Melchizedek, the priest who had just blessed Abram, named God in a way Abram had not heard before. One writer traces what that name did to Abram's sight:
Melchizedek leads Abram's soul into present communion with "THE MOST HIGH GOD, THE POSSESSOR OF HEAVEN AND EARTH." This completes the wonderful contrast between "the King of Sodom" and "the Most High God, possessor of heaven and earth" — "the goods of Sodom" and the vast possessions of heaven and earth. What a contrast, which faith always draws! Abram at once rejects the offer of the King of Sodom. The bread and wine, and the blessing of "the priest of the Most High God," had lifted Abram to such a height that he could take in the vast possessions of heaven and earth in one sweeping glance. From there he could look down on the contemptible proposal of the King of Sodom and reject it.
The title is not decoration. It marks God out as supreme over every rival claim to rule:
I have been looking into the force of the Hebrew words for Most High. It clearly refers, in the end, to God in the millennium — the coming age of His reign — as the supreme God then revealed, with everything false shut out. This is the force of the word. It names the One who, above and beyond all others, holds the place of the one true God, exalted as supreme in government. Jehovah is, as we know, the God who is in relationship with Israel, but He is the supreme God, the Most High. The full statement of the title, and the time of taking it, is in Genesis 14:19-20, 22. Israel's enemies are completely defeated and given into his hand. The heir of promise receives blessing from Him who possesses heaven and earth. He is supreme, and has taken all things into His possession.
Abram does not just repeat what he heard. He joins the new title to the covenant name of God, printed as "the LORD" in the ESV and as "Jehovah" in older translations:
Abram rejected the evil temptation of Sodom's king because Melchizedek had made known the name of God in a new way, "The most high God." Abram uses this new title and adds "Jehovah" to "the most high God."
Raising the hand was the gesture of swearing. Abram had settled the question with God before the king of Sodom ever asked it:
He tells him he had sworn to the Lord God Most High, Possessor of heaven and earth. He would take nothing at all that belonged to Sodom, not even the most trivial thing. Otherwise the king of Sodom could take the credit for making Abram rich (vv. 22-23). The Possessor of heaven and earth had brought about a deliverance for Sodom. That should have driven Sodom to realise they needed the same faith as Abram — a faith that gives God the first place. But the ungodly world only walks by sight, not by faith.
A man already supplied has nothing to gain from an offer:
So, in verse 23, we find language of great decision. The young men had eaten certain things, and Abram's allies and helpers might take their portion. But as for himself, he would take nothing, not even the smallest item. He had been so fully enriched, both spiritually and materially, by God Himself, that he needed nothing more. Giving the king of Sodom the chance to say he had made Abram rich would have spoiled his testimony to that. It is the same in principle for us today. If we are enjoying the spiritual blessings that are ours, we have no need and no desire for the gifts or backing of the world.
Abram had just heard the title from someone else. That raises an uncomfortable question about our own vocabulary:
Has he merely picked up Melchizedek's phrasing in speaking of God like this? How easy it is to pick up mere forms of speech — words and expressions whose meaning and power we do not know! How far are we prepared to be held responsible for the language of even the hymns we sing?
- Seen — Abram met the priest of the Most High before he met the king of Sodom. That order decided everything: seeing God as Possessor made Sodom's offer look small.
- Supreme — "Most High" names God as the one true God above every rival, holding all things in His possession. Commentators link the full taking of this title to His coming reign.
- Sworn — Abram joins the covenant name, the LORD, to the new title and lifts his hand in an oath. He had settled it with God before the offer came.
- Shielded — He refuses the smallest item, so no one can ever claim credit for making him rich. His testimony to a God who supplies stays unspoiled.
- Satisfied — Enjoy the blessings God has given, and the world's offers lose their pull. The danger is repeating Abram's words without knowing their power.
if from a thread even to a sandal-thong, yes, if of all that is thine, I take [anything] ...; that thou mayest not say, I have made Abram rich;
Abram has just won a battle, and the king of Sodom offers him the recovered wealth as a reward. Abram swears by the God who owns heaven and earth that he will not take even a thread. Sodom must never be able to claim credit for his wealth.
The two things Abram names are the smallest he could pick. A sandal strap was worth almost nothing.
It is the fastening, by strap or ribbon, of the eastern shoe or sandal. It is mentioned as a thing of the least value, and untying it counted as a servant's job.
Abram draws his line at the bottom, not the top. He binds only himself; his allies may still take their share.
So in verse 23 we find language of great decision. The young men had eaten certain things, and Abram's allies and helpers might take their share. But for himself he would take nothing, not even the smallest item. God Himself had already enriched him so fully, in spirit and in goods, that he needed nothing more. That testimony would have been spoiled if he had let the king of Sodom say he had made Abram rich. It is the same in principle for us today. If we are enjoying the spiritual blessings that are ours, we need and want nothing from the world — no gifts, no backing.
Abram borrows his words from Melchizedek, the priest-king who had just blessed him. The name he uses for God makes Sodom's offer look small.
Melchizedek leads Abram's soul into present communion with "the Most High God, the possessor of heaven and earth." That completes the striking contrast between "the king of Sodom" and the Most High God — between "the goods of Sodom" and the vast possessions of heaven and earth. A blessed contrast, and faith always draws it! … The bread and wine, and the blessing of "the priest of the Most High God," had lifted Abram so high that he could take in the whole wealth of heaven and earth at one glance. From there he looked down on the king of Sodom's shameful offer and rejected it.
Abram's reason is not that the goods are dirty. It is what the king could say afterwards.
Speaking to the king of Sodom, Abram stands on what Melchizedek has revealed. He acts on the full result of it in the way he deals with this world. He has lifted his hand to the Most High God, Possessor of heaven and earth, and he will not take. He will not give the world a chance to say, "I have made Abram rich." … Here Abram — with his brother, with the enemy, and with the world itself — is above the world. He is its master and superior, both morally and in fact. Lot is under its power; and if we enjoy the world, so are we.
Lot was Abram's nephew, and Abram had just rescued him. One writer ties that rescue to this refusal.
Abram refuses to be enriched by the king of Sodom. How could he think of delivering Lot from the power of the world if he himself were governed by it? The only true way to deliver another is to be thoroughly delivered myself. As long as I am in the fire, it is quite impossible for me to pull another out of it. The path of separation is the path of power, as it is also the path of peace and blessedness.
The pull of the world has two shapes, and Sodom's is the polished one.
The world comes before every Christian in two forms — in its coarse aspect and in its refined aspect. Egypt gives me the one, with all its idols, its magicians, its fortune-tellers and its slavery. Sodom gives me the other, with its honours, its ease and its luxury. Both have to be refused… The language of faith is, "I want nothing from you, and I will receive nothing here except from God."
Abram walked away with empty hands. What follows is God's answer.
Abram refused the king's reward, but God will be his reward… God said, "I am your shield; your reward shall be very great" (older versions read, "I am your exceeding great reward"). God meets the longing of his soul… as a reward for refusing the gifts of the world. Here was faithfulness to God. The man who had left everything at God's call, and would have riches only from Him, took care that the king of Sodom should never say he had made Abram rich.
- Filled first. Abram met the Possessor of heaven and earth before he met the offer; a full man finds Sodom's goods small.
- Filled, therefore free. He drew the line at a thread and a sandal strap — the cheapest things named, so that Sodom could claim nothing at all.
- Free, therefore clear. The point of refusing was the credit: the world must never get to say who made him rich.
- Clear, therefore strong. No one still held by the world can pull another out of it; separation is the path of power.
- Strong, therefore rewarded. Abram's hand took nothing from Sodom, and God Himself answered as his shield and his reward.
save only that which the young men have eaten, and the portion of the men that went with me, Aner, Eshcol, and Mamre, let them take their portion.
Abram's last word to the king of Sodom is not about himself but about other people. He has sworn to take nothing from Sodom. Then he names two exceptions: the food his men had already eaten, and the share owed to the three allies who fought with him.
Who were the three men Abram names?
Mamre: an Amorite chieftain who, with his brothers Aner and Eshcol, was allied with Abram. Gen. 14:13, 24.
Abram refuses and asks in the same breath. He will not let the king of Sodom claim credit for his wealth. He also will not let his own choice cost other men their pay.
Abram at once shows us that faith is more generous still. He knows what it is to be rich toward God. He refuses to tarnish His testimony by anything that would let the king of Sodom say, "I have made Abram rich." At the same time he pleads for the others. Abram's grace led him to give up his own claim. Yet his large heart did not forget what was due to those who did not have his faith. He asks for Aner, Eshcol, and Mamre, who had helped him. It was only right that they should share in the spoil.
Abram draws a line here, and he does it without criticising anyone. What he can do before God, he does not demand of the men beside him.
In the last verse of our truly interesting chapter we have a happy feature in the character of the true man of faith. Abram would not force others to walk by his elevated standard. He might be able to reject the offers of the king of Sodom completely. Others might not be able to. So he says about "Aner, Eshcol, and Mamre, let them take their share." Our walk should always be "according to the measure of faith that God has assigned." (Rom. 12:3) In our own day we have seen many people give up all kinds of worldly things at the start. Afterwards they plunge deeper into those very things. Why? Because they acted from mere excitement or human influence, and could not say with Abram, "I have lifted my hand to the LORD."
Abram let his allies take pay for their work. Lot shows the other side: Abram's faith carried him out of danger, but it did not make him a man of faith.
Abram did not ask that Aner, Eshcol and Mamre should act on the same faith as he did. He agreed that they should take some payment for their work. For faith is intensely personal. As for Lot, he too was a believer, and though he owed his deliverance to Abram's faith, even this did not stir his soul to walk by faith himself. It is sad to think that he went straight back to Sodom! Did the Most High God, Possessor of heaven and earth, not mean more to him than this?
Why could Abram give up so much so easily? He had already received more.
The young men had eaten certain things, and Abram's allies and helpers might take their share. But for himself he would take nothing, not even the smallest item. God Himself had enriched him so fully, in spirit and in goods, that he needed nothing more. He would have spoiled that testimony by giving the king of Sodom the chance to say he had made Abram rich. It is the same in principle for us today. If we are enjoying the spiritual blessings that are ours, we have neither need nor desire for the world's gifts or backing.
Abram had met Melchizedek, the priest of God Most High, before the king of Sodom came to him.
Abram acted. How is it with us? The recovered spoil of five cities was doubtless a fine pile, but the man of faith looked at it all with supreme contempt. He had seen Melchizedek first. Otherwise he might have said, "What harm is there in it?"
- Filled first. Abram met the priest of God Most High before he met the king of Sodom. A man already enriched by God has no appetite for the world's spoil.
- Refusal. Because he was full, he could take nothing for himself — not even the smallest item — so no one could ever say Sodom had made him rich.
- Exception. Fullness also made him exact about others. The food already eaten and the share owed to Aner, Eshcol, and Mamre were not his to renounce.
- Measure. He would not force his own high standard on men who did not share his faith. Each walks by the measure of faith God has assigned.
- Personal. Faith cannot be borrowed or copied. Abram's faith rescued Lot, and Lot still went back to Sodom. Giving things up out of excitement ends the same way.
After these things the word of Jehovah came to Abram in a vision, saying, Fear not, Abram; I am thy shield, thy exceeding great reward.
Commentary for this verse has not been generated yet.
And Abram said, Lord Jehovah, what wilt thou give me? seeing I go childless, and the steward of my house is this Eliezer of Damascus.
God has just promised to be Abram's shield and his very great reward. Abram answers with a question: what good is a reward to a man with no son, whose servant stands to inherit everything?
God's promise did not settle Abram. It made him feel the gap between what God said and his empty house.
But notice the effect. It awakens the sense of wants, and it draws out the expression of those wants. If Abram had long felt any such desire in secret, there is no reason to think he had ever told it out to God before. Now he does… He was not content with the general terms God had used with him so far. Where was the value of God being ever so great a reward, if after all he was childless?
The question sounds like a complaint. Read another way, it is faith at its boldest.
But faith is bold, very bold, apparently aiming higher than the purposes and undertakings of grace. Abraham seems to throw back the words of the Lord. "I am your shield; your reward shall be very great," says the Lord. Abraham replies, "What will You give me?" This was bold; but, blessed to say, not too bold for the ear of the Lord, who finds His richest joy in language of faith like this.
Abram's logic is exact. A servant may manage the estate, but only a son inherits it.
Notice how exactly Abram lays hold of the great principle the Spirit brings out later in Romans 8. "If children, then heirs." Abram felt that sonship and heirship cannot be separated. Without the first, the second could not exist. This is the meaning of his question. Abram rightly judges that to have "no seed" was to have no inheritance, for the word is not "if stewards or servants, then heirs," but "if children, then heirs." (Rom. 8:17)
(Older translations read "the steward of my house," where the ESV has "the heir of my house.")
Commentators differ on how to read Abram's tone. Others read it more plainly: his situation weighed on him more than the promise did.
Abram's circumstances pressed heavily on his soul at this time. So when he answered the Lord, he did not rise to the level God wanted to lift him to… God had promised him many descendants in Genesis 13:16, but as he says, God had not given him any offspring (v. 3). He was no longer a young man and did not see any prospect of having a son.
God does not scold the question. He answers it, and He measures the answer to what Abram can take hold of.
How flat all God's assurances seem to have fallen with the pattern man of faith! And yet in all this we may very clearly find our own pattern… Do you know what it is to reach out for this immense God as your portion, apart from Christ as now revealed to us? If you do, you will know how the wings of faith flutter uselessly in the void and cannot rise to it. Thank God, if you cannot rise, God can come down; and so He does here to Abram. Calmly He comes down to the low level of Abram's faith, and goes on to give him what it can grasp.
Eliezer is a servant, not a son. Setting him aside leaves room for someone else, and the same pattern returns later in Abram's story.
What is the setting aside of Eliezer the steward but the making room for a child of promise, the son in the house? We find the same thing in Genesis 16, in the story of Sarah and Hagar, and of Isaac and Ishmael. There stands the further reality that the "son of the slave woman shall not be heir with the son of the free woman."
God's answer to the question turned this childless man into the example Paul later points back to.
The answer to this was the word of promise. It drew out Abram's simple acceptance of God's word, so clearly and so fully that he stands for all time as the pattern of faith. Paul appeals to his example in Romans 4, calling him "the father of all who believe." The word to this childless man was that he should have true offspring as many as the stars of heaven.
- Promise exposes want. God's offer of Himself as shield and reward did not silence Abram; it drew out of him a desire he had never spoken before.
- Want becomes prayer. Abram tells God the one thing missing, and such boldness is "not too bold for the ear of the Lord."
- Sonship carries the inheritance. A steward runs the house; only a son inherits it — "if children, then heirs."
- God stoops to weak faith. Abram did not rise to God's level, so God came down to his, giving him something he could grasp: the stars.
- Servant out, son in. Eliezer's place goes to the child of promise, and the childless man becomes the pattern of faith for all who believe.
And Abram said, Lo, to me thou hast given no seed, and behold, a son of my house will be mine heir.
Genesis 15 opens with God calling Himself Abram's shield and very great reward. Abram answers by naming the one thing missing: he has no child, and a servant of his house stands to inherit everything.
Eliezer was no minor figure. A steward held real standing in a childless man's house.
The first man to be called a steward in the Bible was Eliezer of Damascus (Gen. 15:2). He was, however, not God's steward, but Abraham's. His position was an important one. If no direct heir came, he would inherit his master's possessions.
So the "member of my household" in Abram's words is a servant already next in line.
The promise in verse 1 did not settle Abram; it opened him up. God's way of encouraging a person is to make him honest about his actual condition.
If Abram had long felt in secret any such desire, there is no reason to think he had ever said it out loud to God before. Now he does. God had given him the land of promise, but with this he was not content, and God meant that he should have more.
Kelly draws a practical rule from this. God does not want a polished report from us.
Whatever the occasion, God will always have reality. He encourages in grace, but He begins with reality, and that is what we find in His dealing with Abram now. He searches out Abram's wishes and thoughts, and He brings out from his lips what was at the bottom of his heart.
Abram's complaint is not greed. It rests on a rule that Romans would state later. The wording below reads "no seed" where the ESV has "no offspring."
Abram felt that sonship and heirship could not be separated. Without sonship there could be no heirship. He judges correctly that to have "no seed" was to have no inheritance. The word is not: if stewards or servants, then heirs, but "if children, then heirs." (Rom. 8:17)
Mackintosh then turns to us. Service has its place, but our privileges rest on sonship.
It may be good and very valuable, in its right place, to realise our responsibility to act as "faithful and wise stewards" while our Master is away. Still, the fullest privileges, the highest joys, the brightest glories that belong to us through the grace and mercy of our God are closely tied to our character and place as "sons."
Commentators differ here. Mackintosh says Abram judged rightly. Others say his answer fell below what God was offering.
Abram's circumstances weighed on his soul at this time. So when he answered the Lord, he did not rise to the level to which God sought to lift him... Though God had promised him many descendants in Genesis 13:16, yet, as he says, God had not given him any offspring (v. 3). He was no longer a young man and did not see any prospect of having a son.
Naming the shortfall settles nothing. What matters is what God does next.
It is all very well to say that Abram's faith was not up to the mark here. In truth it was not; but that is no explanation... Thank God, if you cannot rise, God can come down; and so He does here to Abram. Serenely He comes down to the low level of Abram's faith, and goes on to give him what it can grasp.
Abram asked for one thing. God handed him two.
As ever with God, His gifts go beyond what we ask. Abraham had asked for a son, and, in reply, God promises him not only a son but also an inheritance for the seed... If we are sons, then we must be heirs. God does not have sons without providing for them an inheritance.
And the son could only come one way, since nature on both sides had already given its verdict.
The inheritance lay stretched out before Abraham's eyes in all its vast size. But where was the heir? Abraham's body and Sarah's womb both answered "death." But Jehovah is the God of resurrection, so a "dead body" was the very thing for Him to act upon.
- Empty. A steward stood to inherit everything if no son came, so Abram's sense of loss was real, not imagined.
- Honest. God's promise drew the buried want into words, because He will always have us in the truth of our state.
- Son. Stewards do not inherit; children do — sonship is the ground of every privilege, not service.
- Down. Where faith could not rise to God's greatness, God came down to the level faith could grasp.
- More. Abram asked for a son and received a son plus an inheritance, given through a body already as good as dead.
And behold, the word of Jehovah [came] to him, saying, This shall not be thine heir, but he that will come forth out of thy body shall be thine heir.
Abram had answered God's promise of a great reward by pointing to his empty house and to Eliezer, his servant and heir. Here God rules the servant out and names a son not yet born as the heir — a son from a body already past hope.
Abram's question was not ingratitude. He had worked out that an inheritance needs a child to receive it.
See how exactly Abram lays hold of the great principle later brought out by the Spirit in Romans 8: "If children, then heirs." Abram felt that sonship and heirship were bound together. Without the first, the second could not exist. That is the meaning of his question: "Lord God, what will You give me, seeing I go childless, and the steward of my house is this Eliezer of Damascus?" Abram judges rightly that to have "no seed" was to have no inheritance. The word is not, if stewards or servants, then heirs, but "if children, then heirs."
Abram asked for a son. God's answer names a son and an inheritance together.
In reply the word of the LORD came to Abraham and, as always with God, His gifts exceed our requests. Abraham had asked for a son, and in reply God promises him not only a son but also an inheritance for the seed. Sonship and inheritance are the two great themes of God's reply. Our future hope is tied to our standing as sons. If we are sons, then we must be heirs. God does not have sons without providing an inheritance for them.
Abram's faith could not rise to the greatness of what God had offered him.
Thank God, if you cannot rise, God can come down; and so He does here to Abram. Calmly He comes down to the low level of Abram's faith, and goes on to give him what it can grasp.
The weakness in the question draws no rebuke, and the answer carries no conditions.
God does not reprove his lack of faith. Instead He encourages his faith by telling him that Eliezer would not be his heir, "but one who will come forth from your own body shall be your heir" (v. 4). God's promise was absolute, though it took longer to fulfil than Abram expected.
The ESV says "your very own son." The older wording the writers use, "out of your own body," points to the one place where nature had nothing left to give.
Sonship is the proper basis of everything. It is the result of God's sovereign purpose and working, as we read in James: "Of His own will He brought us forth." Finally, it rests on God's eternal principle of resurrection. How else could it be? Abraham's body was "dead"; so in his case, as in every other, sonship must be by the power of resurrection. Nature is dead, and can neither father nor conceive anything for God. The inheritance lay stretched out before Abraham's eyes in all its vast size. But where was the heir? Abraham's body and Sarah's womb both answered "death." Yet the LORD is the God of resurrection. A "dead body" was the very thing for Him to act upon.
Verse 4 settled who would hold everything. The rest of Abraham's household received something else.
Isaac was "heir" according to God's original promise (Gen. 15:4). Others might have gifts and do well; but nothing would satisfy Sarah but the heirship for her son. It is the same now. Men are content with an outward knowledge of Christ and the many gifts they get by it. But they stand completely apart from the true heirs of God. Those born of God can be satisfied with nothing less than what He is pleased to give.
- Question — Abram saw that without a child there could be no inheritance. The rule is not "if servants, then heirs," but "if children, then heirs."
- Answer — God rules Eliezer out and names a son of Abram's own. He adds an inheritance beyond what Abram asked for.
- Grace — God does not scold the weak faith behind the question. He comes down to the level Abram can grasp and gives an absolute promise.
- Power — The heir had to come from a body already dead, so that the son could only be the work of the God of resurrection.
- Result — Others in Abraham's house received gifts; the inheritance went to the son alone. Those born of God are content with nothing less than all He gives.
And he led him out, and said, Look now toward the heavens, and number the stars, if thou be able to number them. And he said to him, So shall thy seed be!
Abram is old and childless, and he has no heir. God takes him outside into the night and ties the promise of a family to something Abram cannot count.
Going outdoors pictures a change in how Abram measures his own case.
Another thing to notice is that when Abram measured himself by himself, he was childless and had no heir. But as soon as he viewed himself in the vastness of God's thoughts, all the comparisons drawn from things around him fell infinitely short of the Lord's intentions... A most important fact springs out of this look toward heaven, for the Spirit says, "He believed the LORD, and He counted it to him as righteousness."
God asks nothing of Abram here except attention.
God brings Abraham out from his own circumstances, and all he must do is look, listen, and believe. He is to look away from Sarah, himself, the earth, and everything of nature, and the LORD says, "Look toward heaven." And as he looks at the stars, he is to listen to what God says, "So shall your offspring be."
God sets Abram a task he cannot finish.
Could he count the stars? God did not tell Abram at the time that he could see only a very small fraction of all the stars in the heavens. He simply told him that his descendants would be as the stars.
Earlier God had compared Abram's family to the dust of the earth. Writers see the new image turning his hope in a new direction.
The contrast was great between thinking of his future descendants "as the dust of the earth" and now hearing them likened to "the stars of the heavens" (compare Genesis 15:5 with 13:15-17)... From then on God measured the future seed by the glory of His own dwelling place in heaven, not by Abraham's path as he walked by the sight of his eyes on earth. Abraham needed daylight to travel from place to place. But God spoke to him again in the dark of the night, when nothing hindered the display of heavenly glory in the countless stars, which witnessed to God's mighty power and wisdom.
Commentators differ on how far to press this. One writer sorts the promises into three, and the note printed with that article disagrees:
The Lord had said before, "All the land that you see I will give to you and to your offspring forever." This concerns Israel. Then He said besides, "I will make your offspring as the dust of the earth." This applies to the nations at large. Now He says, "Look toward heaven, and number the stars." Here we have a heavenly family, and by this the promise is completed.
Editor's note: Though this interpretation is not new, is it warranted by Scripture? Do not Genesis 22:17, Deuteronomy 1:10 and Deuteronomy 10:22 show that "the stars of heaven" applies to the earthly people just as much as "the sand of the sea" does?
Verse 5 is the promise that verse 6 answers. What makes Abram's response remarkable is what he did not ask for.
Abram simply took God at His word. He believed it, he rested on it. He asked for no sign about the birth of the heir. He did not ask when he would set eyes on him, though he did ask for a sign that he would inherit the land. About the birth of the heir, the bare word of God was enough for him, and God reckoned his faith to him for righteousness. From that day on he was a justified man in God's eyes, justified by faith.
One writer turns the same call on the reader:
God brings Abraham out and points him to the starry sky... And what, dear friend, does your soul need? And where are you told to look for all the blessings you need? Toward heaven. Is it, Look within? No — toward heaven... Oh, dear one, "LOOK NOW." God never says, "Look tomorrow."
- Outside. Measuring himself by himself, Abram found nothing. God moved him out to see himself in the vastness of God's thoughts.
- Upward. God asks three things: look, listen, and believe — away from Sarah, himself, and everything of nature.
- Uncountable. The stars Abram could see were a small fraction of the real number, and his family was to be as the stars.
- Heavenward. Dust of the earth gave way to stars of heaven. Commentators differ on whether the stars mean a heavenly people or the earthly nation.
- Counted. The bare word of God was enough for Abram. He asked for no sign about the heir, and from that night God counted him righteous.
And he believed Jehovah; and he reckoned it to him [as] righteousness.
The scene is a starry night: God has just told childless Abram to count the stars and has promised him offspring as numerous as those stars. What follows is one short sentence the New Testament quotes again and again — about how God makes a person right with Him.
The faith recorded here was a response to something said, not something seen. One writer marks the exact moment:
It is not when the Lord appeared, but when the word of the Lord came to Abram, that he believed, and it was counted to him for righteousness. It is better, as Paul interprets it, to translate here "believed the Lord." The Hebrew adds the word "in," but with this verb it hardly carries that force.
And the word he received was, by every human measure, impossible.
You remember the story — one of the most beautiful in the Bible, to make plain how a sinner is justified… Abraham believed the Lord's word, though he was then an old man, and his wife an old woman. In the eyes of man this promise was impossible. But Abraham believed God, and God counted, or reckoned, this faith to him as righteousness… Abraham did not look at how impossible the promise was. He looked at the almighty power of the One who made it… Remember that this happened 430 years before the law was given. Abraham had never heard of the law when God reckoned him righteous. It was all by grace. It was all by faith.
Others had believed God before Abram. But here Scripture says something for the first time.
He believes in the power of resurrection in God, and in His faithfulness to perform His promise, and it is counted to him for righteousness. This is the first time Scripture teaches this great and all-important truth, or even uses the word for it. I have no doubt this is intentional, though we know there were believers before. But now, in the great root of the tree of promise, God would bring out this basic truth. Here God laid the very ground of man's blessing.
Older translations read "counted to him for righteousness," where the ESV has "as righteousness." One writer weighs what that accounting word means:
"Abraham believed God and it was counted to him for righteousness." That is, God reckoned Abraham righteous, or held him to be righteous, because of his faith. The little word "for" can mislead. It may suggest that faith is a substitute for righteousness, something that can be turned into righteousness. "Reckoned to him as righteousness" more nearly gives the sense.
The God Abram trusted gives life where there is none. That shuts out every human contribution.
God counted righteousness to Abraham here because he believed in the Lord as the One who gives life to the dead. This is the character in which He reveals Himself in a world where death reigns. When a soul believes in Him as such, God counts that soul righteous in His sight. This must shut man out as far as his co-operation goes, for what can he do in a scene of death? Can he raise the dead? Can he open the gates of the grave?
Working and believing are paid in opposite ways:
If a man works, the reward is not viewed as a gift. It is the wages due to him. But if, instead of working, he believes on Him who justifies the ungodly — what a magnificent proof and conclusion that his faith is reckoned for righteousness! This is free grace, and the very opposite of a debt according to law.
Abraham's faith here and his offering of Isaac are two separate moments, years apart:
Now this is mentioned in Abraham's history many years before he "offered up" Isaac. The former is in Genesis 15:6, the latter in Genesis 22. How thoroughly distinct, then, is justification before God from justification before men.
The record was never meant to stay in Abram's biography.
If any case could be regarded as special, it is surely Abraham's. Yet of him we read that the words "it was counted to him" were "not written for his sake alone, but for ours also. It will be counted to us who believe in Him who raised from the dead Jesus our Lord" (Romans 4:23-24).
- Word — Faith came when God spoke, not when God appeared; Abram rested on a promise he could not fulfil.
- Counted — God did not find righteousness in Abram; He reckoned him righteous because he believed.
- Life — The God Abram trusted raises the dead, so no human effort can add anything.
- Grace — Wages are owed to a worker; righteousness is credited to the one who believes — and this came 430 years before the law.
- Us — The verse was written for every later believer, so the same reckoning stands today.
And he said to him, I am Jehovah who brought thee out of Ur of the Chaldeans, to give thee this land to possess it.
Abram has just believed God, and God counted his faith as righteousness. Now God speaks again. He names Himself, recalls the rescue from Ur, and promises the land. Abram's next words ask how he can be sure of it.
Other passages also name Ur as the place Abram came from. One reference work locates it near the Euphrates:
A city or district somewhere near the Euphrates. God called Abraham from there. Genesis 11:28, 31; Genesis 15:7; Nehemiah 9:7. It is thought to be the site of Mugheir, one of the most ancient places in Chaldea.
God did not call this man because he was better than the people around him:
The call of God goes out in sovereign grace. He separates to Himself a man who was no better than his neighbours, but who was openly caught up in the idolatries of his fathers.
God raises the rescue Himself. He points Abram away from his own condition and back to the purpose God held before Abram wanted anything from Him:
The Lord goes further. He turns Abram's attention to Himself, and to His own part in it in grace (v. 7): "I am Jehovah who brought you out of Ur of the Chaldees, to give you this land to inherit it" — I came to you when you were a poor idolater, and I came with the purpose and the intention. Your lot depends on grace and purpose, not on your strength or your condition. It did not depend on them then; it does not now. I had the purpose when I visited you in your misery, when you did not even have the desire for it.
The promise rests on the identity of the One promising, not on the strength of the one hearing.
The basis of all blessing for the believer is the fact of who God is. This is why God reminds Abram in verse 7: "I am the Lord who brought you out of Ur of the Chaldees …" So Abram is encouraged to have the fullest confidence in the living God and in what He says.
The order in the chapter matters: the son is promised first, and the land follows. (Older translations read "to inherit it" where the ESV has "to possess.")
Abram is now made secure about the seed. At once he receives a renewal of the promise of the inheritance. The purpose of God runs like this: "if children, then heirs." At this the patriarch's faith grows bolder still. He wants, as it were, to read his title deed to this inheritance. He did not doubt the promise of the inheritance, any more than he had doubted the promise of the seed. But he wanted to search out the ground of his confidence; he would know the covenant of his God. And the Lord hears him in this too.
Abram answers this promise with a question in verse 8, and commentators read it differently. Some hear an honest question from a man who knew he was a sinner:
Is this a challenge to the promise? Is this calling God's truthfulness into question? No, indeed. It is only faith letting God know that a conscious sinner was listening to His promise. The promise therefore needed some warranty to carry it with certainty to the heart. And the Lord was well pleased with this. Faith always pleases Him, since without it nothing does. At once He prepares to let Abraham know that sacrifice sustained the promise.
Others hear a dip in Abram's confidence, though God still answered him:
He is asking, and Jehovah answers, no doubt. But he wants a sign by which he may know that he will inherit: "How am I to know that I shall possess it?" This does not seem to rise to the wonderful trust in Jehovah that marked him at other times.
Writers apply the land to the believer's own inheritance:
For us the land is the good land of our inheritance. The eyes of the Lord rest on it always. It is not earth, but heaven. What a wonderful place to enjoy our portion, when we really know what our portion is! "Where I am" is the Lord's own description of it.
- Grace first. God came to Abram in Ur while he was an idolater — the purpose was God's before the desire was ever Abram's.
- Grace names itself. "I am the LORD" is the foundation; blessing rests on who God is, not on the believer's strength or condition.
- Grace gives. The land is a gift attached to the promised seed: children first, then heirs — a title deed, never a wage.
- Grace bears questions. Abram asked how he could know. Commentators read his question differently. God answered him rather than rebuked him, and pointed him to sacrifice.
- Grace reaches us. The same pattern holds today. God brings people out of one place to give them another — not earth, but the place the Lord calls "where I am."
And he said, Lord Jehovah, how shall I know that I shall possess it?
God has just promised Abram this land, and Abram already stands righteous before Him through faith. Yet Abram asks for proof. Everything turns on what sort of question that is, and on how God answers it.
One reading takes Abram's words as the honest speech of a man who knows what he is. He is not testing God's word; he is telling God that a sinner needs a foundation under a promise before it can rest on the heart.
Is this a challenge of the promise? Is he calling God's truthfulness into question? No, indeed. It is only faith letting God know that the man listening to His promise was a sinner, and knew it. Such a promise therefore needed some guarantee behind it, to carry it to the heart with certainty. And the Lord was well pleased with this. Faith always pleases Him, as without it nothing does. And at once He prepares to let Abram know that sacrifice sustained the promise.
Commentators differ here. Others read the same words as a sign that Abram's faith needed support. They then aim the point at us, not at Abram.
Yet Abram feels that his faith needs help — some confirmation of God's promise. So he asks, "O Lord GOD, how am I to know that I shall possess it?" Surely God's word was enough, was it not? Yet we are all slow to rest fully in the perfect truth and reliability of that word alone.
Whichever way we read the question, God's response is the same. God does not repeat Himself louder. He moves from speech to action, and the benefit of that reaches far beyond Abram.
These may seem strange words, faced with God's absolute assurance. Yet such questions do speak to us of a need in man's heart. God's word alone does not meet that need; God's act must meet it. So in His grace He takes these questions up and answers them in earnest, and through all time we have the blessing of their answer.
Notice what God does not say. He points Abram to no feeling, no track record, no effort — but to slain animals. Assurance is learned at the sacrifice.
Did He tell Abram that it depended upon his experience, or duties, or feelings? No. He taught Abram that blessing comes to fallen man only through sacrifice. Sacrifice is what makes God's eternal blessings sure to us. So God sent him to the sacrifice to find assurance there... There, at the sacrifice, Abram was to learn God's character and mind. That is how he could be sure he would inherit the land.
The animals are not about dealing with sin here. They confirm a grant, like a legal bond. And God makes allowance for the man who asked.
This was of course no question of expiation. It was a matter of confirming God's grant of the inheritance. In the kind and the variety of the animals slain, God (as it seems to me) took account of the weak faith that asked for the sign. He does not decline to give Abram the bond that he asked, or to make all sure by death.
The surprise is not that Abram asked. It is that God stooped to give him a guarantee.
To assure the feeble heart of man, God binds Himself by covenant. What gracious stooping down this is! But what does this wonderful, stooping grace meet? — "O Lord GOD, how am I to know that I shall possess it?" While nature and man pass through the dark shadow of the power of death — and Christ as man has done this for us — God passes between the pieces. He binds Himself in a covenant of death to carry out this desire of the believer's heart... In this very remarkable passage we learn two things. God gives man blessed and perfect assurance in the righteousness of faith, and the covenant can never change.
Abram asked about a strip of ground. For us the same question points higher, and it turns into a challenge to look at what we are.
For us the land is the good land of our inheritance. It is the land the eyes of the Lord are always on — not earth, but heaven... But how is man to reach a land like this? A place with Christ, reader! Look at what you are, and answer me: what is to raise a child of earth up to the height of God's own heaven?
- Asked. Commentators read Abram's question two ways: faith wanting a foundation under the promise, or faith too slow to rest in God's bare word. Either way, God welcomed it.
- Answered. God met a need that His word alone was not meeting in Abram's heart — He moved from promise to act.
- Sacrifice. He sent Abram not to his experience, duties or feelings, but to the slain animals, to learn assurance there.
- Covenant. God did not refuse the bond Abram asked for. He passed between the pieces and bound Himself, making the promise unchangeable.
- Inheritance. The same question reaches us about heaven and a place with Christ. Nothing in us lifts a child of earth that high; God's own act must.
And he said to him, Take me a heifer of three years old, and a she-goat of three years old, and a ram of three years old, and a turtle-dove, and a young pigeon.
Abram had just asked God for something to hold on to — a guarantee that the land promised to him would really be his. God's answer is not more words. He asks for five living creatures, to be brought and killed. Why sacrifice as the answer to a question about inheritance, and why five?
The animals here are not brought to deal with sin. One writer explains what these animals were for, and why God agreed to give the sign at all.
Of course this was not a question of atoning for sin. It was a question of confirming God's grant of the inheritance. In the kind and the variety of the animals killed, God (as it seems to me) took account of the weak faith that asked for the sign. He does not refuse Abram the guarantee he asked for, and He does not refuse to make it all sure by death.
The wording of God's command is noticed closely. The victims are called for by God, for Himself — and the number is explained as a concession to the learner, not a requirement of the Giver.
The Lord says to him, "Take me" — He does not say "Take yourself." Why these five animals? Would not one have been enough for God? I believe one would have been enough for God, but the five were needed for Abraham, and for us as learners of his lesson. I believe the truth brought out here is to show us that God's way of blessing is always based on death. Sacrifice is the means by which you and I can be justified, and by which God has been glorified concerning sin.
A heifer and a pigeon are not worth the same. That gap says something about us, not about the sacrifice.
Now notice that these five animals had different values... The heifer was worth much more than the she-goat. And what were the turtle-dove and the pigeon worth next to the heifer? Each victim presents Christ in death, but Christ grasped in a different way. Not Christ as God values Him, but Christ as you and I value Him... One sees the heifer, the other the pigeon, so to speak.
One writer takes each creature as its own portrait of Christ — the tame animals first, then the two birds.
God delights to gather up the pictures of what Christ is, and to press their meaning on us... The three animals are all tame, not wild. They did not need to be caught for us. They were the willing servants of man's need. Each is three years old — time unfolding a divine mystery in them. The first two are females, the picture of fruitfulness. The heifer stands for the patient Workman; the she-goat, for the Victim for our sins; the ram, in whom the meek surrender of the sheep becomes more positive energy — so later the ram is used for consecration and for the trespass-offering. The birds speak of One from heaven, One whom love made a man of sorrow (the turtle-dove), and One come down to a life of faith on earth (the rock-pigeon...).
Commentators read the repeated age differently. This writer sees it pointing past the death of Christ to what came after.
But the three animals that are three years old are meant to put special emphasis on the resurrection of Christ. His sufferings and death have infinitely great value in atoning for the guilt of our sins. But His resurrection matters just as much, because it proves that God accepted the sacrifice. Without it we could have no assurance that our sins are forgiven.
The dead animals serve a legal act. Later in the chapter one party walks between the pieces, and it is not Abram.
A covenant confirms the whole thing. In it God, as the light that guides and the furnace that tests, stoops to bind Himself to carry it all out. Death makes it sure. So the Lord confirms the covenant by passing, in grace, through what bound Him. Abram, heir of the promises, goes through the terror and the shadow of it. This is not exactly atoning for sin. It is what belonged to confirming the promises, by the only thing that could make them sure for man, a sinner.
Another writer notes that Abram is left out of the deal:
There was no thought of Abram passing between the pieces, as though he were pledging himself to anything. It was God pledging Himself to do as He had just said, and that in an unconditional way.
- Asked — Abram wanted proof of the inheritance. God answered with death, not with a louder promise.
- Given — God says "Bring me." The animals are His ask, and one would have been enough for Him. The five are for us.
- Grasped — the five animals differ in value. They picture one Christ, held in different measures by different believers.
- Guaranteed — the three-year-old animals point to the resurrection, God's proof that He accepted the sacrifice.
- Sealed — God alone walks between the pieces. The covenant rests on Him, and death makes it sure.
And he took all these, and divided them in the midst, and laid the half of each opposite its fellow; but the birds he did not divide.
Abram asked how he could know he would inherit the land, and God answered with a knife. Why these five creatures, why cut them open, and why leave the birds whole?
The action was not invented for Abram. It followed a known legal form.
The law of contract is one of the oldest kinds of law. In the world the book of Exodus speaks of, there was a firmly established custom of making a contract. The Hebrew word for making a covenant means to cut a covenant. The same ritual made every covenant, whether between men or, as in this case, between God and man. They took an animal and cut it in two. The parties to the contract then passed between the pieces, and blood sealed the covenant.
Abram wanted proof about the land, and God did not refuse him.
This was not a question of expiation. It was about confirming God's grant of the inheritance. In the character and variety of the animals killed, God (as it seems to me) took account of the weak faith that asked for the sign. He does not decline to give Abram the bond that he asked, or to make everything sure by death. (Compare Jeremiah 34:18-19.) But the promise was not to be made good without tribulation as well as patience from Abram's descendants.
The five creatures are not a random list. Commentators read them as a gathered picture of Christ.
God answers Abram by putting Christ before him as the pledge of the inheritance. God delights to gather up the types of what Christ is, and press their meaning on us. The three beasts are all tame, not wild. No one had to hunt them down for us; they are the willing servants of man's need, each three years old. The first two are females, the type of fruitfulness. The heifer speaks of the patient Workman; the she-goat, of the Victim for our sins. In the ram, the meek surrender of the sheep becomes more positive energy. The birds speak of One from heaven. Love made Him a man of sorrow — that is the turtle-dove. He came down to a life of faith on earth — that is the rock-pigeon.
Why cut them open at all?
In presenting these Abram divided the animals, but not the birds. This is because the animals speak of the Lord Jesus in His earthly walk and character of service and devotion to God. We may divide this for our own spiritual profit. In His service we see unswerving faithfulness and truth. We also see gentleness and love. As our Substitute He must be without any blemish or spot, a pure offering. He must also be tender enough to be a willing offering for us. In the ram He must be a submissive offering — yet not submitting out of slavish fear, but as One with a genuine will.
The birds are the exception, and that is deliberate.
But the birds teach us that He has a heavenly character, high above our ability to contemplate. Though He is true Man, yet He is the Lord from heaven, and as such He is inscrutable. Instead of understanding this great glory, we only worship. Therefore the birds were not divided.
A path lay open between the halves, and only one side walked it.
There was no thought of Abram passing between the pieces, as though he were pledging himself to anything. It was God pledging Himself to do as He had just said, and that in an unconditional way. God showed Himself here by passing between the pieces, as remarkably as He showed Himself to Moses in the burning bush.
God alone bound Himself, so the gift never depended on man's terms.
Here we have a covenant of gift. God was the only party to it. He stooped to enter into it, so that man might know how solemn and unchangeable His promise is. And here Paul contrasts the difference of the law and the gift of the inheritance. If the inheritance comes by the law, it no longer comes by promise. But God gave it to Abraham by promise, and the law could not cancel that. The law was conditional, and the making of the golden calf forfeited it — before its conditions were even declared. But the inheritance was of promise, and therefore secure.
- Asked — Abram wanted to know he would inherit. God met his weak faith with a sign instead of refusing him.
- Cut — "Making a covenant" in Hebrew means to cut one. The parties walked between the split halves, and blood sealed the deal.
- Divided — Abram cut the heifer, she-goat and ram open. Christ's earthly service and His work as Substitute invite that close study.
- Undivided — The dove and pigeon stay whole. His heavenly glory is beyond us, so we worship instead of explaining.
- Alone — Abram never walks the path between the pieces. God alone passes through. So the inheritance rests on promise, not performance, and cannot be lost.
And the birds of prey came down on the carcases; and Abram scared them away.
Abram had asked God how he could know he would inherit the land, and God answered with a covenant sealed in death — animals killed, split, and laid open. Verse 11 is the one moment where Abram acts, and commentators read his guarding of the sacrifice as a picture of faith.
The slain animals are not offered here to deal with sin. They are God's way of putting His grant of the land beyond doubt.
This was not a question of expiation. It was a question of confirming God's grant of the inheritance. In the kind and variety of the animals killed, God (as I see it) took account of the weak faith that asked for the sign. He does not refuse Abram the guarantee he asked for, or refuse to make everything sure by death.
The same principle holds later. What secures blessing is never the strength of the one who asks. It is the death underneath the promise.
Abraham learns that the ground of all blessing must be sacrifice. We always have to remember that the everlasting basis of our blessing is the great sacrifice of Christ. "Without the shedding of blood there is no forgiveness of sins." People may value the sacrifice of Christ in very different measures, probably pictured by the different animals Abraham was told to offer. But sacrifice alone can secure the blessing.
Commentators read the descending birds in more than one way. Most take them as hostile spiritual powers, drawn to the sacrifice to spoil it.
All of these were given to God in death, but not burned. Abram laid the pieces together, perhaps on an altar, though we are not told this. But the dead meat drew unclean birds, and Abram drove them away (v. 11). These birds speak of Satan and his band of unclean spirits (Matt. 13:4, 19), always ready to steal away from us the priceless value of the sacrifice of Christ.
Others read a second layer here: the divided pieces stand for Abram's descendants, and the birds for the nations that would prey on them.
All these animals appear later in the book of Leviticus, and as sacrifices they picture Christ. The birds that came down on the carcasses, and that Abraham drove away, picture evil… But the divided pieces, with the turtledove and the pigeon, lying open to the birds, also picture Israel, divided and cut through. And the birds can stand for the nations that feed on Israel.
Abram neither rebuilds the offering nor improves it. He refuses to let anything settle on it.
The birds came down to defile it if they could — that is, the activity of life. It is a scene full of hidden meaning. Abram keeps it all pure and clean. The main point is to keep the sacrifice untouched, the foundation of everything.
There is a sharp contrast worth noticing between the bird that comes down here and the bird that comes down at the baptism of Jesus.
There are certain birds that in fact are typical of the Lord Jesus, being used in the offerings, as in Leviticus 1:14-17, turtledoves or pigeons. Again, at the baptism of the Lord Jesus, we are told that "He saw the Spirit of God descending like a dove and alighting upon Him" (Matt. 3:16). This is a precious contrast to Genesis 15:11, where the vultures came down on the carcasses of Abram's sacrifice with the object of devouring it, just as Satan tries to destroy the value of the sacrifice of Christ.
The way Abram handled the birds sets the pattern: no bargaining, no shared ground.
"The birds came down." Evil spiritual powers and principles never stop trying to take away the sign of the covenant. That is, they try to rob us of Christ, or of some part of who He is. Abraham shows us what we should do. He did not compromise with them or give them room; he "drove them away." We need the same constant watchfulness and firmness, giving up in our teaching no particle of the truth about His person or His work, His name or His word.
Abram's guarding lasts only until sunset, when deep sleep and darkness fall on him in the next verse. The offering does not depend on his staying awake.
So death passes over all these pictures of moral beauty, and they lie out in the open under the sky, with faith in Abram guarding the sacrifice from being defiled, until, "as the sun was going down, a deep sleep fell on Abram. And behold, dreadful and great darkness fell upon him." Faith's watch is over. Darkness follows light. But this only brings out the supreme value of the sacrifice itself. Faith does not give the sacrifice its power; the sacrifice sustains faith.
- Foundation. The divided animals are God's guarantee of the inheritance. Sacrifice alone secures the blessing.
- Threat. The birds of prey picture unclean powers out to rob us of the value of Christ's sacrifice. Some also see the nations that would prey on Abram's descendants.
- Guard. Abram adds nothing to the offering — he only keeps it untouched, because the sacrifice is the foundation of everything.
- Method. He did not compromise or give ground. He drove them away. That is the pattern: give up no part of the truth about Christ's person or work.
- Rest. His watch ends at sunset, but the sacrifice still holds. Faith does not give the sacrifice its power; the sacrifice sustains faith.
And as the sun was just going down, a deep sleep fell upon Abram; and behold, a horror, a great darkness, fell upon him.
Abram had asked God for a sign that he would truly inherit the land. God's answer came as slain animals, a setting sun, a sleep Abram did not choose, and a darkness that terrified him.
The Hebrew word behind "deep sleep" is not the word for ordinary rest. It appears elsewhere only where God Himself is the one acting.
A deep sleep, tardemah, a term never used of natural slumber, but of sleep, either supernatural, for a special purpose (Gen. 2:21; Gen. 15:12; Job 4:13; Job 33:15), or spiritual, in the way God governs and deals with people (Prov. 19:15; Isa. 29:10).
The Morrish Bible Dictionary notes that the Greek Old Testament uses a word here meaning "ecstasy." It is the same word used later of Peter's vision on the rooftop and Paul's vision in the temple. In those visions the mind travels beyond the body.
Abram had cut the animals in two. Now something of that death reaches him. One writer sees the sleep as death's shadow falling on Abram himself.
So here God binds Himself by bringing in death. But the power of death also passes, in a way, on Abram. He gets the blessing only when a deep sleep comes upon him… Abram came under a deep sleep, and a horror of great darkness fell upon him. That is, in his own condition he came under the power of death. It was not actual death, of course, but the shadow of it — a picture of it. So we must die with Him. Death must pass on all flesh for it to inherit the promises.
Up to this point Abram had been the active one, driving the birds of prey away from the carcasses. The sleep ends that work.
Faith's watchfulness is over. Darkness follows light. But this only brings out the supreme value of the sacrifice itself. Faith does not give the sacrifice its power; the sacrifice sustains faith.
Because Abram is asleep, he takes no part in what happens next between the pieces:
There was no thought of Abram passing between the pieces, as though he were pledging himself to anything. It was God pledging Himself to do as He had just said, and that in an unconditional way.
The horror is not a sign that God has withdrawn.
Abram had to wait until sundown before anything happened. Then he fell into a deep sleep, and horror and darkness came with it. God was drawing near to him, and the covenant involved darkness as well as light.
Commentators differ on Abram's own state here. William Kelly links the darkness to the doubt behind Abram's asking for a sign. He sees a state that does not stand in the light of God. It stays with Abram's own needs, and with the sorrow such needs bring in a world like this.
Taken with the divided animals of verse 10, this scene has three parts.
Verse 10 has shown that the offering of the Lord Jesus was a sacrifice; now we read of a deep sleep falling upon Abram. This is a picture of the sleep of death, just as the sleep of Adam is in Genesis 2:21. Besides this, a horror of great darkness fell upon him. So the offering of Christ involved (1) sacrifice, (2) death, and (3) the awful darkness of being forsaken by God.
What Abram saw in this darkness, his descendants would live through in Egypt.
Egypt had been to them a place of refuge, a kindly shelter in the time of famine and affliction. It now became to them the house of bondage. In Genesis 15:12, when the "horror of great darkness" fell on Abraham, he had seen a "smoking furnace." Egypt became that furnace.
- Sleep — this word is never used of ordinary rest. God puts Abram out of action before He makes His pledge.
- Shadow — death's shadow falls on Abram himself. Flesh must die before it can inherit the promise.
- Silence — Abram sleeps, so only God passes between the pieces. The covenant rests on God's word alone.
- Substitute — sacrifice, death, and the darkness of being forsaken by God sketch what the cross would cost Christ.
- Sequel — the darkness Abram saw became the "smoking furnace" of Egypt for his descendants.
And he said to Abram, Know assuredly that thy seed will be a sojourner in a land [that is] not theirs, and they shall serve them; and they shall afflict them four hundred years.
Abram has just asked how he can know he will inherit the land, and God answers by cutting a covenant in sacrifice. The first thing He reveals is not the land. It is four hundred years of slavery for Abram's descendants. Why should so sure a promise run through so long a sorrow?
God speaks while Abram lies in a deep sleep, with terror and darkness over him. Two symbols then pass between the pieces of the sacrifice. One writer reads them as a summary of the whole prophecy:
This showed what lay ahead for Israel. The smoking furnace stood for their trial and affliction. The burning lamp that passed between the pieces stood for the hope of the deliverance that would rise out of the darkness. Such was God's dealing with them in righteous government.
God tells Abram to know this "for certain." He named the trouble before it came, and one writer takes that advance notice as proof of who controlled it:
This would seem to stand in the way of their blessing. But the very fact that God foretold it to Abram proves that God had this matter in as full control as He had their coming blessing. In other words, God's promise often means long waiting. That waiting is meant only as a needed trial of faith. God's purpose in blessing is not touched by the affliction.
The opening chapters of Exodus show this prediction coming true, cruelty and all:
This is the history of the first twelve chapters of Exodus… Even the anger of man is tied to the wheels of God's decrees. It was so when Christ was "delivered up according to the definite plan and foreknowledge of God," and men crucified and killed Him (Acts 2:23).
The number raises a real problem, because Exodus 12:40 gives 430 years. Commentators differ over where the count starts. One explanation notes what this verse does not say:
Genesis 15:13 and Acts 7:6 say nothing about Egypt: "Your offspring will be sojourners in a land that is not theirs." God said this to Abraham. It may cover the whole period from Isaac's birth to the Exodus, which by the count above was four hundred and five years. That agrees with the round number of four hundred years. Exodus 12:40 is worded differently: "The time that the people of Israel lived in Egypt was 430 years." It is better to take the four hundred and thirty years as covering the sojourn of Abraham (after the promise), and of Isaac, and of Jacob.
Another writer reaches the same starting point from the promise of a return in the fourth generation:
God's promise to Abram in Genesis 15:13-16 mentions "four hundred years," and then the assurance that his descendants would return to the land of Canaan in the fourth generation. So the time of the sojourn, or pilgrimage, of the chosen family must be counted from the days of Abraham, and most likely from his entry into the land of Canaan.
Whatever the starting point, the ending was exact:
Verses 40-42 show us how exactly God keeps to His own appointed time. He had mentioned 400 years to Abraham, as we see in Genesis 15:13. We are not told the exact point from which the count of the 430 years starts. But on the very day it ended the people went out of Egypt. They are called "the hosts of the LORD," though to all appearance they were only a large crowd of freed slaves.
This affliction is not a break in the promise. It is part of it:
In God's promise to Abram, the emblems that represent Him as He binds Himself to give the inheritance are the furnace of fire and the burning lamp. This is the pledge that the discipline they need will not be missing, when the "deep sleep" falling on His people may call for it. Later the burning bush answers to this, and it is not burned up because God is in the fire. So the Egyptian oppression, on its other side, was covenant mercy. And this is only one example of a constant principle in God's ways.
This pattern reaches past Israel to every servant of God:
You reach the inheritance only through the furnace. The darker the smoke of the furnace, the brighter and more cheering the lamp of God's salvation will be… Jacob had to endure twenty-one years of hardship in the house of Laban. Joseph found his furnace of affliction in the dungeons of Egypt. Moses spent forty years in the desert. So it must be with all God's servants.
- Certainty — God named the affliction before it came. He held the suffering as surely as He held the blessing.
- Count — "four hundred years" is a round number. Some date it from Isaac's birth, others from Abraham's entry into Canaan. That longer count covers the 430 years of Exodus 12:40.
- Clock — however you measure the years, Israel left Egypt on the very day the time ran out.
- Crucible — the furnace was one of God's own covenant emblems. So Egypt's oppression was, on its other side, covenant mercy.
- Consequence — the pattern holds for every servant of God. The furnace comes first, the lamp after, and the road to the inheritance runs through both.
But also that nation which they shall serve I will judge; and afterwards they shall come out with great property.
God has just told Abram that his descendants will live as strangers and slaves for four hundred years. This verse is His answer to that dark news. He promises two things in advance. He will judge the nation that enslaves them, and He will bring them out rich.
The affliction was not an accident that God later repaired. God described it to Abram in detail, hundreds of years before any Israelite was a slave in Egypt. Exodus 1 opens by reporting that word coming true.
God foretold the condition of the children of Israel in Exodus 1 many years before, when He declared to Abraham... This is the history of the first twelve chapters of Exodus. So the first chapter brings us to the very edge of the fulfilment of God's ways with His people, as He foretold to Abraham. God harnesses even the anger of man to the chariot wheels of His decrees. So it was when He gave Christ up "according to the definite plan and foreknowledge of God," to men to crucify and kill (Acts 2:23).
The four hundred years come as plain fact. The hope rests on what God says He will do at the end of them.
No doubt the Israelites were afflicted 400 years by the stranger; but the point of hope was the judgment of that nation, and Abraham's seed coming out with great substance.
This judgment was no side note in Israel's story.
As His mouth had threatened judgments on injurious enslavers, so did His hand perform in due season. And this dealing of the Lord the God of Israel fills the Law, and the Psalms, and the Prophets.
People have called the silver, gold and clothing Israel carried out of Egypt plain theft. Commentators answer that Israel was collecting pay it had already earned.
In truth their wages were long overdue and had never been paid. It is foolish to suppose that even the smallest wrong was done here... They were to plunder their oppressors by God's own authority, and there was no question at all of deceit or dishonesty. The Authorized Version gives the impression of "borrowing," but that impression is not necessary, and the passage does not call for it. Nothing here suggests that they had no right to what they took.
(The ESV says "great possessions." Older translations say "great substance," the phrase several writers use.)
In his vision Abram had seen a smoking furnace and a burning lamp. Both return in Egypt — the furnace is the slavery, the lamp is the rescue.
The smoking furnace had grown very hot under the pressure of the king's command. Here the Lord's own hand puts it out completely. And the burning lamp, which long before had passed in vision before Abram, now shines brighter and brighter, till its full glory breaks out. Now God fulfils the ancient word of promise for the seed of Abram (Gen. 15:14). The thankful, joyful praises of Moses and of Israel confess the love and faithfulness of the God of Abraham.
Two words in the verse carry the promise: afterward, and come out. The darkness was real, and so was the end God had fixed for it.
These children of Abram would suffer badly. They would pass through a horror of great darkness. Yet the end of it would be great substance. "THEY SHALL COME OUT." They were not to be wiped out or crushed in the furnaces. They were to go through it and come out of it, free and enriched. God had pledged Himself to that, and He would be with them to fulfil His pledge.
Commentators differ on where this promise ends. One writer reads the Exodus as a picture of a greater rescue still to come.
God's promise included His judging the nation that oppressed Israel, and not only freeing Israel, but blessing them with great substance. This came true at the exodus (Ex. 12:35-36). It is also a picture of the great blessing Israel will receive when the nation at last receives their Messiah. He will free them from the bondage to sin that has held them for centuries.
- Foretold — God announced the slavery to Abram centuries early. He harnesses even human cruelty to His purposes.
- Judged — God's hand carried out in due season what His mouth had threatened against the enslavers.
- Owed — The wealth was unpaid wages, taken by divine authority, not by deceit.
- Fulfilled — At the Exodus God put out the furnace and let the lamp shine. Israel's praise confessed His faithfulness.
- Afterward — God's people are not consumed in the furnace. They go through it and come out free and enriched — a pattern still to be repeated for Israel.
And thou shalt go to thy fathers in peace; thou shalt be buried in a good old age.
God has just told Abram that his descendants will serve a foreign nation for four hundred years. Then He turns from the nation's future to the man himself, and raises the hardest question in the chapter: what good is a land promise to a man who will die long before God hands the land over?
This promise of a quiet death is part of a longer answer to a man who was unsure. One writer weighs what the vision gives him, and what it does not.
Here is God knowing what He means to do on earth, and giving a doubting friend the certainty of it. He secures and binds Himself, to comfort a faith that wanted unusual support. Yet there would still be affliction for his descendants. They would still serve a foreign nation. But in the end the LORD would bring them out in triumph. The vision is admirable, but it never looks up to the heights of God's glory, and it never goes down into the depths of His grace.
The phrase is God's plain way of telling Abram he will die. He will not be on earth to see any of this happen.
Now in verse 15 the Lord tells Abram himself that he would not remain on earth. He would go the way his fathers had — that is, through death — and be buried in a good old age. Indeed he would have a far better inheritance than his children, Israel.
Abram had been called out of Ur toward a land on earth. This verse and the next tell him he will never hold it. One writer treats that loss as the point where God opens something better to him.
Abraham was called to go out to a place which God would show him. So he had an earthly calling: the prospect set before him was a land on earth... But after he reached the land, God taught him clearly that his offspring would not really own it until the fourth generation (Gen. 15:15-16). He was to die without ever owning it himself. Would he be worse off through dying? No. He had a heavenly hope given him. He learnt that God had prepared for him a city, and he looked for that "city that has foundations, whose designer and builder is God."
Genesis later records the exact end God describes here: the peace and the good old age both came true.
The history of Abraham is deeply instructive. It closes with a brief record of his peaceful end at "a good old age," and his burial by his sons Isaac and Ishmael in the cave of Machpelah. In striking contrast to poor Lot, Abraham finishes his pilgrim path with the respect and honour due to one who was "the friend of God" and "the father of all who believe."
That grave in Canaan did not end his claim on the land. One writer sees the burial place as a statement of hope.
In this life of faith and hope, Abraham, Isaac and Jacob are one. Each in his day is gathered to his people. Each is "a handful of sacred dust" in the cave in the field of Ephron the Hittite, laid up there in sure and certain hope of a resurrection to life and to the inheritance.
God gives the reason in the next breath: the people living in the land are not yet ripe for judgment. His patience with them runs for centuries.
God is indeed "slow to anger." The evil of the Canaanite nations was great in Abraham's day. Even so, He held back their judgement for 400 years. "For," He said, "the iniquity of the Amorites is not yet complete" (Gen. 15:16). From Rahab's words to the spies we learn that the guilty nations knew God's executioners were on their way. She said, "I know that the LORD has given you the land... and that all the inhabitants of the land melt away before you" (Joshua 2:9). They had heard of God's heavy hand on Egypt... Yet there was no repentance on their part.
- Delay. God tells Abram his descendants will serve a foreign nation long before they own the land. The wait is long; the outcome is certain.
- Peace. Into that long delay God drops a personal word. Abram will not live to see it. He will go the way his fathers went, through death, and be buried in a good old age.
- Better. Dying without the land left him no poorer. God gave him a heavenly hope, and he looked for the city whose designer and builder is God.
- Kept. The promise came true to the letter — a peaceful end, a good old age, and burial by his sons, the honour due to the friend of God.
- Patience. God held back judgment until the sin of the Amorites was complete. He is slow to anger, and that patience is why Abram had to die first.
And [in the] fourth generation they shall come hither again; for the iniquity of the Amorites is not yet full.
God has just told Abram that his family will be slaves in Egypt for four hundred years. Here He explains the delay: judgment on the Amorites in Canaan is certain, but their sin is not yet full.
The delay is not indecision. Older translations read "not yet full," the wording the writers below use. They see God's settled method here. He lets evil grow to its full size, so no one can question the sentence when it falls.
God was going to permit the Amorites to fill up the cup of their iniquity before He drove them out and destroyed them. This is always the way He acts in His holy government. It explains the long-suffering He shows to the guilty world we live in. He knows the full nature of man's evil from the start. But He lets that evil come out in full. So when His judgment falls in full severity, every created being can see that it is right.
God deals the same way with nations that had no covenant with Him. His patience is not idle. It keeps working to bring people back, and it stops only when nothing more will help.
God is far from ending an arrangement as soon as man has failed to fulfil his duty under it. God uses long forbearance. He employs all sorts of means to recall man to his duty, until, as the word puts it, there is no remedy. He has shown this even towards those who had no covenant. He announced to Abraham that his offspring would go down into Egypt. And He added that they would not yet take possession of the promised land, because the iniquity of the Amorites was not yet complete.
This verse gives the moral ground for the later conquest of Canaan. Israel did not earn the land. God evicted the tenants because they had ruined the property.
Every landlord has a perfect right to evict bad tenants. The nations of Canaan had not only failed to pay their rent, as we say. They had also damaged and defiled the property so badly that God could no longer put up with them... The iniquity of the Amorites had reached its highest point. Nothing remained but for judgment to take its course... To bear with them any longer would have meant approving the most terrible evils. That, of course, was morally impossible.
Israel must not read the conquest as a compliment to itself. Moses said so plainly. God also warned that the land itself would turn on any people who defiled it — Israel included.
God clearly told Israel why He judged these nations: "Not because of your righteousness or the uprightness of your heart are you going in to possess their land, but because of the wickedness of these nations the Lord your God is driving them out from before you" (Deut. 9:5)... "But you shall keep my statutes... lest the land vomit you out when you make it unclean, as it vomited out the nation that was before you." So God let this people ripen to their full height of wickedness. Then He used them to show His righteous anger and power.
Read with verse 15, this verse tells Abram he will die before the promise arrives. One writer finds the answer to that loss in what God gave him instead.
After he reached the land, God taught him plainly that his offspring would not hold it until the fourth generation appeared (Gen. 15:15-16). He was to die without personally possessing it. Would he be worse off through dying? No. He had a heavenly hope given him. He learnt that God had prepared a city for him. He looked for that "city that has foundations, whose designer and builder is God." So he wanted a better country than Canaan — a heavenly one.
How long was Israel in Egypt? The four hundred years of verse 13 and the four generations here do not fit together easily. One writer lines the generations up.
A much shorter period is implied in Gen. 15:16, which says of Israel in Egypt that "they shall come back here in the fourth generation"; and if we turn to Ex. 6:16-20 we find exactly four generations: Jacob's son Levi. Levi's son Kohath. Kohath's son Amram. Amram's son Moses.
Commentators differ on how tightly the phrase should be pressed. One warns against treating it as a headcount of everyone who lived in Egypt:
Nothing could be more fault-finding than to take Gen. 15:16 as limiting the Israelites who sojourned in Egypt to just the fourth step in family birth, or to assume that they had no children beyond those named for special reasons.
Writers apply this verse to our own day. It cuts against the assumption that the world is slowly improving.
A word may be needed on verse 16: "for the iniquity of the Amorites was not yet full." So many of the Lord's people today have no idea that God allows iniquity to come to the full. They expect evil to lessen and slowly to stop. If we transfer this principle of the growth of evil from the Old Testament to the New... we may discover how unwilling our minds still are to face the character and growth of the evil described in 2 Thessalonians 2.
- Full, not fast — God does not strike at the first offence. He waits until evil is out in the open, so the sentence is beyond dispute.
- Full means patient — the delay is God's long-suffering toward the guilty. The world still lives under that same patience today.
- Full explains Canaan — God evicted the nations for their wickedness. He did not hand Israel the land as a reward.
- Full costs the faithful — Abram dies before the promise arrives, and God gives him a heavenly city instead of the land he never held.
- Full is still filling — the same pattern runs on today. Evil grows to its limit before judgment, so expect ripening, not improvement.
And it came to pass when the sun had gone down, and it was dark, that behold, there was a smoking furnace, and a flame of fire which passed between those pieces.
Abram had asked how he could know the land would be his. God answered with a ceremony instead of an argument: animals cut in two, a long wait, deep sleep, and then, after dark, fire moving between the pieces.
Where the ESV says "smoking fire pot and flaming torch", older translations say a smoking furnace and a burning lamp. Walking between the pieces of a sacrifice meant pledging yourself to keep the agreement. Here only one side walks.
What sealed all this as a covenant was this: after dark, a smoking furnace and a burning lamp passed between the divided pieces of the sacrifice. God showed His presence in these two ways. There was no thought of Abram passing between the pieces, as if he were pledging himself to anything. It was God pledging Himself to do what He had just said, and to do it unconditionally. This appearance of God, passing between the pieces, was as striking as His appearance to Moses in the burning bush.
Abram is asleep for the decisive moment. Everything therefore rests on one side only.
This is hard to understand, but let me suggest what it means: everything depends on God. God went through the slaughtered animals alone. Everything depends on Him. If we stand on the basis of works of law, then it depends on us, and so it will never work. But when it depends on God alone, He is faithful, and then it all comes true.
God does not just repeat the promise. He answers Abram's question by binding Himself in a covenant of death.
Next, to reassure the weak heart of man, God binds Himself by covenant. This is grace stooping very low. But what does this amazing grace meet? — "How am I to know that I shall possess it?" Then, while nature and man pass through the dark shadow of the power of death (and Christ as man has done this for us), God passes between the pieces. He binds Himself in a covenant of death to fulfil this desire of the believer's heart, according to His own thoughts. And promise lays the sure foundation of it in Christ.
The same principle runs back through Genesis and forward through Scripture: what God gives freely, He gives on a bought basis.
The land is promised to him, but it is by the covenant of Him who passes through the pieces of the sacrifice. No promised blessing that is not a purchased blessing also — no throne of grace, as we have said before, that does not stay itself on the ark of the covenant.
The two fires trace the whole story of Abram's descendants.
One writer has well said that Israel's history could be summed up in two words: "the furnace and the lamp." Egypt was a furnace of testing for the descendants of Abraham. There the fire burned hot, but it was soon followed by "the burning lamp" of God's own deliverance… Satan might enjoy lighting the furnace and making it fiercer, but the blessed God, on the other hand, always delighted to let the rays of His lamp fall on the dark path of His suffering heirs.
The same two fires act as seals on the covenant. Each seal carries its own word:
These seals meant something. They carried the stamp of how God planned to deal with Abram's descendants, and He now revealed this to Abram: "affliction" written, as it were, on the one seal, and "salvation" on the other.
Faith can go slack, and the heart can go dark. The two fires answer both.
If the energy and watchfulness of faith fail, the furnace of trial will not fail as the appointed means of purifying. And for the darkness that unbelief brings, the burning lamp is just as surely provided. How sure the inheritance is for those to whom God has pledged Himself in Christ, to bring them through to enjoy it, and to secure the conditions that His holiness must impose!
The furnace and the lamp meet again at the cross and the tomb.
On the cross, too, He submitted to "the smoking furnace." Under the searching of that fire He vindicated the righteousness of God by the wrath He endured, while offended holiness found its food and satisfaction in the perfection of the offering it consumed… The furnace and the lamp have each done their own work at the cross and the tomb, for "from the sixth hour there was darkness over all the land until the ninth hour."
after fix: n/a
- Pieces — God made the covenant over slain animals, so the promise of the land stands on sacrifice, not sentiment.
- Alone — God alone passed between the parts while Abram slept. He asked nothing of Abram, so nothing in Abram could break it.
- Furnace — the fire marks affliction: Egypt first, and then the judgment Christ Himself bore in the darkness of the cross.
- Lamp — the light marks deliverance. God gives it for the very darkness that unbelief brings on, and He raised up rescue again and again.
- Inheritance — God pledged Himself, so the outcome is certain. He brings His people through the furnace, by the lamp, into what He promised.
On the same day Jehovah made a covenant with Abram, saying, Unto thy seed I give this land, from the river of Egypt to the great river, the river Euphrates;
That same day, God counted Abram's faith to him as righteousness. Then He went further. He bound Himself by a formal covenant and drew the borders of a land Abram did not own. Two questions follow. Who guaranteed the grant, and has that land ever been held?
The covenant is dated. It falls on the same day recorded earlier in the chapter. One writer shows why that order matters when the New Testament looks back at this scene.
To set out this great truth the Apostle turns again to Abraham's history. He speaks of the promise of the inheritance. God made, or renewed, this promise to Abraham on the same day He counted him righteous, as we read in Genesis 15:18. … God gave this promise of the inheritance long before the law, and it in no way depended upon works of law.
God sealed the covenant with a ceremony. Only one party walked between the divided animals.
After dark, a smoking furnace and a burning lamp passed between the divided pieces of the sacrifice. That is what ratified all this as a covenant. In this twofold way God showed His presence. There was no thought of Abram passing between the pieces, as though he were pledging himself to anything. It was God pledging Himself to do as He had just said, and to do it unconditionally.
The sacrifice was not a formality. One writer links the death of the animals to how God can keep such a promise and stay righteous.
A smoking furnace and a burning lamp passed between the pieces (Gen. 15). This declared that God could keep His covenant of promise to Abram and stay righteous in only one way: through the death of a substitute, and that under awful judgment.
The two rivers are not vague poetry. The word used for "river" rules out a seasonal stream, so one writer can name which waterway is meant.
God promised the whole land of Canaan to Abraham, and a further territory as well: "from the river of Egypt to the great river, the river Euphrates." Gen. 15:18; Gen. 17:8. The word used here three times for "river" is nahar. It does not apply to a winter stream. So "river of Egypt" almost certainly refers to the most easterly branch of the Nile, called the Pelusiac. These limits of Abraham's promised possession lie to the south-west and north-east. The Mediterranean is the western limit, and the eastern limit is not defined.
God speaks as though the land is already handed over. Yet the verses that follow list ten nations living on it.
Verses 18-21 speak of an unconditional covenant that the Lord made with Abram that day. He told Abram that He has given his descendants all the land from the river of Egypt (the Nile) to the river Euphrates. Ten different nations held part of that land at the time. When Israel came back from Egypt they did not possess anything like that whole territory, and never have. But the promise of God stands, and its fulfilment awaits the millennium.
Israel did once reach the northern boundary, but not for long.
Prophecy marks out the rivers Nile and Euphrates as the limits of the promised land (Gen. 15:18). For a brief season David and Solomon extended the royal authority to the Euphrates (1 Chron. 18:3; 2 Chron. 9:26). The division of the kingdom under Rehoboam cut this wide dominion back sharply.
The covenant was one-sided and confirmed. So what could the law do to it, arriving centuries later?
A later act cannot cancel a solemnly confirmed covenant, even among men. Now God had given the promise to Abraham apart from law, and confirmed it to Christ 430 years before the law came. So the law could not cancel the promise already confirmed, nor change its terms. No one could cancel it, and no one could add to it. It must be fulfilled as it was given.
- Day — God dated the land-covenant to the very day He counted Abram righteous. That was long before the law, so the inheritance never rested on works of law.
- Deed — God alone passed between the pieces. Abram pledged nothing, which makes the covenant unconditional from the first word.
- Death — The divided sacrifices point to a substitute. Only that death let God keep such a promise and stay righteous.
- Domain — The borders are real places: an eastern branch of the Nile, the great river Euphrates, and the Mediterranean on the west.
- Delay — Ten nations held the ground then. David and Solomon reached the Euphrates for only a short season, and Israel has never held the full territory. The promise is unconditional, so it still stands.
the Kenites, and the Kenizzites, and the Kadmonites,
Genesis 15:19 begins a list of the peoples then living in the land God had just promised to Abram's descendants. The Kenites, the Kenizzites and the Kadmonites head a list of ten. God names the current holders of land Abram did not own, and He does it inside a covenant He signs alone.
The list shows how exact God's predictions can be — a land, a people, a timescale.
What of Genesis 15, when "the word of the LORD came to Abram in a vision"? Could any prediction be plainer or more certain? Yet it covered more than four hundred years. It set out where the chosen race would stand in relation to the nation they would serve in suffering — a nation they would at last triumph over, by a judgement that was clearly divine. More than that, it maps out the borders of another land. That is the land where the father of the faithful lived as a stranger. By the LORD's covenant it was to be given long afterwards, when those who had seized the inheritance — listed in full detail — were judged, just as the old oppressor of the heirs had been.
One list gives the meanings of these three names:
Kadmonites — Ancients. … Kenites — Acquiring. Kenizzites — Hunter.
One dictionary links the Kadmonites to a people met later in Israel's history:
One of the ancient peoples who held the land promised to Abraham. Genesis 15:19. Probably the same as bene-Kedem, "children of the east." Judges 6:3.
God promised all this to a man who owned nothing in the country.
God then brings Abraham into Canaan. What is there for him there? Nothing yet for him to own. The Canaanites are there — enemies all around him in this land of promise. All he gets for his trouble is faith. Not one spot of ground there truly belonged to him. Stephen tells us so in Acts 7:5: "He gave him no inheritance in it, not even a foot's length, but promised to give it to him as a possession and to his offspring after him, though he had no child."
Only one side of this agreement made a pledge. That decides who must keep it.
All this was sealed as a covenant after dark. A smoking fire pot and a flaming torch passed between the divided pieces of the sacrifice. In these two ways God showed His presence. There was no thought of Abram passing between the pieces, as though he were pledging himself to anything. It was God pledging Himself to do as He had just said, and that in an unconditional way.
Centuries later, Israel met these same nations in battle.
Joshua led the armies of Israel into Canaan. He conquered these Canaanite nations, took their land from them, and settled the Israelites in the land God had promised. … We have a list of Israel's enemies in Genesis 15:19 — Kenites, Kenizzites, Kadmonites, Hittites, Perizzites, Rephaim, Amorites, Canaanites, Girgashites, Jebusites. When the people of Israel took the land God had promised to Abraham, they would be quick to see how wonderfully God had kept His promise on this point.
Yet that conquest never covered the whole land God had promised.
The land we call Palestine has a small river, the Jordan, as its eastern border. It is only a very small part of the land Abram's descendants are to hold in the end. The closing verses name ten peoples living there at that time. All of them will lose that land, and in the millennial age the true Israel will hold their promised land.
The first people named here appear again later — living among Israel and spared in war.
The Kenites were one of the ten nations whose land Israel was to take. They come first in the list in Genesis 15. But they are not among the seven nations to be driven out, which Moses lists in Deuteronomy 7:1. Moses' father-in-law was a Kenite, and the children of the Kenite "settled with the people" of Judah (Judges 1:16). … When God sent Saul to destroy Amalek, Saul "said to the Kenites, 'Go, depart; go down from among the Amalekites, lest I destroy you with them, for you showed kindness to all the people of Israel when they came up out of Egypt.'"
- Named. God names ten peoples then living in the land, the Kenites, Kenizzites and Kadmonites first. The promise came with a map, not vague words.
- Given. God alone passed between the pieces. Only one side pledged anything, so the covenant is unconditional.
- Empty-handed. Abram received all this while owning not one foot of the ground, holding it by faith alone.
- Partial. Joshua took the land from these nations. That proved the promise real, but Israel never held all God had named.
- Outstanding. The land held today is a small part of the grant. Writers point to the millennial age for the whole of it. The Kenites also show that Israel could treat people from these nations kindly.
and the Hittites, and the Perizzites, and the Rephaim,
God gives Abram a title deed to a land he does not own. This verse names three of the peoples already living there, and it raises the question every reader of Genesis 15 must face: how can God "give" a land while ten nations hold it?
These three names sit inside a legal act. It begins at verse 18 and closes with the roll of nations.
Verses 18-21 speak of an unconditional covenant that the Lord made with Abram that day. He told him that He has given his descendants all the land from the river of Egypt (the Nile) to the river Euphrates. That included land held at the time by ten different nations. When Israel came back from Egypt they did not hold anything like that whole territory, and they never have. But the promise of God stands, and the fulfillment of this awaits the millennium.
Abraham later bought land from the people named first in this list.
The descendants of Heth, a son of Canaan, and so descendants of Ham: a large race who lived in Palestine. In God's covenant with Abraham, his descendants were to take over their territory. Genesis 15:20. On the death of Sarah, Abraham bought the field and cave of Machpelah from the Hittites. His dealings and contract with them show they were a civilised race, used to doing business.
The Perizzites are missing from the Bible's genealogy of the nations, though their name keeps coming up later. One writer draws a conclusion from that silence.
We do not hear of Perizzites in this genealogical account, though the name occurs in Genesis 13:7, Genesis 15:20, Genesis 34:30… This appears to imply that they were not a distinct race. They were rather those who separated from town life, which most Canaanites clung to, and remained villagers.
English Bibles leave the third name untranslated. The word behind it means dread.
rapha, 'a fearful one.' In the plural and with the article it works as a proper name: the REPHAIM, or sons of Raphah. They were a race of giants who lived beyond the Jordan, and Og the giant king of Bashan came from them… At times the term Rephaim applies to any people in Canaan who were of great stature… The word Rephaim stays untranslated in Genesis 14:5; Genesis 15:20.
Scripture's giants are never neutral figures.
In Scripture the idea of a giant is always tied to evil. The giant is man lifting himself up against God. He is the symbol of pride and self-sufficiency, and of oppressive power. He is the opposite of the little and the lowly, the humble in heart, with whom God delights to dwell.
God does not sketch the land in general terms. He counts the peoples on it, and names their judgment in the same breath.
It maps out the limits of another land — the land where Abram, the father of the faithful, lived as a pilgrim. Jehovah's covenant promised to give it long afterwards, at the time when God would judge the usurpers of the inheritance, listed in full detail, as He had judged the old oppressor of the heirs. Who can say that Christ's person alone answered these predictions? Who can deny that they are particular facts? Who can deny that they came true to the letter in the Egyptians, in the Amorites, in the Jewish people, and in their land?
Some writers read these names as a picture of what blocks a believer from enjoying what God has given.
The names here, as everywhere, are certainly significant. They suggest the powers of evil that get to the ground first. They would keep us from enjoying our God-given inheritance in Christ. The Hittite, "child of terror" — how spiritual dread makes cowards of us all! … The Perizzite, "the countryman," suggesting perhaps the thought of great power, nobility, false pride… All of them must be cast out. Every alliance with them must be flatly refused. Their greatness is no reason to fear them.
- Deed. The list of nations sits inside a covenant God made alone, with no conditions attached. He speaks of the land as already given, long before Israel set foot on it.
- Occupants. All three were real peoples. Abraham bought a burial field from the Hittites. The Perizzites were villagers rather than a separate race. The Rephaim were giants, and their name means "a fearful one."
- Names. God lists the usurpers in full detail, which is how the promise doubles as a prophecy of their judgment.
- Conflict. Some writers take the names as pictures of what gets to our ground first and keeps us from enjoying what is ours. Dread and pride are on that list. Refuse them; do not fear them.
- Fulfilment. Israel has never held the whole territory described here. The commentators quoted still expect it, resting on God's promise rather than on Israel's record.
and the Amorites, and the Canaanites, and the Girgashites, and the Jebusites.
The closing line of God's covenant with Abram ends a roll-call of peoples who were living in the land at that moment, with the Jebusites named last. Two questions press: why name the peoples living there, and has Israel ever held that land?
The last four names close a list of ten. One reference work counts them, and shows why the word "Canaanite" can mean two things.
In Genesis 15:18-21 the land promised to Abram reaches to the river Euphrates. Ten nations are named there: the Kenites, the Kenizzites, the Kadmonites, the Hittites, the Perizzites, the Rephaim, the Amorites, the Canaanites, the Girgashites, and the Jebusites. Here and in some other places the Canaanites are only one people among many. Elsewhere the word Canaanite seems to cover anyone living in Canaan.
The Jebusites come last on the list. Their story did not end with their defeat.
A race of people, descendants of Canaan, son of Ham, living in Palestine when God promised the land to Abraham… The Jebusites were apparently living in Jerusalem, and they joined the kings who attacked the town of Gibeon for making an alliance with Israel. They suffered a crushing defeat, and the king of Jerusalem was killed. But they were never rooted out of the land, and Israel mingled with them in marriage.
The whole grant rests on a ceremony with divided animals. One writer points out who did not walk between the pieces.
There was no thought of Abram passing between the pieces, as though he were pledging himself to anything. It was God pledging Himself to do as He had just said, and that in an unconditional way.
Another writer sets this earthly promise beside the spiritual ones.
In Genesis 15 the promise rests on a covenant made with Abraham, again without condition. It is an absolute gift of the country… If you say that the spiritual promises have no conditions, then by the same reasoning the earthly ones have none either. God's promise to Abraham that He will give him this land is as certain as the promises made to us Gentiles.
The date of this promise matters as much as its content.
God made, or renewed, this promise to Abraham on the same day He counted him righteous, as we read in Genesis 15:18… The promise of the inheritance came long before the law. It did not depend in any way on works of law.
Naming ten peoples means naming ten evictions. One writer explains why they lost the land, and it was not simply to make room for Israel.
Giving their inheritance to the children of Abraham may look like the main reason for this great action. But the real ground is this: the iniquity of the Amorites was now full. The sword of conquest for Israel is the sword of judgment on the Canaanites. The people of the Lord had to wait for that nation's sin to ripen, and for the judgment of the Lord, before they could receive their inheritance.
The borders promised here are far wider than anything Israel has ever held. Commentators place the full grant in a future age they call the millennium.
The land we call Palestine has a small river, the Jordan, as its eastern border. It is only a very small part of the land they are in the end to hold. The closing verses mention ten peoples living there at that time. All are to lose the land, and in the millennial age the true Israel will hold their promised land.
Another writer names what must happen first.
Israel will one day, in the millennium, hold all this property, but only when they have received their Messiah, the Lord Jesus. Then He will clear the way for them to claim their full inheritance.
- Named — Ten peoples, from the Kenites to the Jebusites. That is the full list of who held the land at the time.
- Given — God alone passed between the pieces. Abram pledged nothing, so the gift carries no conditions.
- Free — God promised the inheritance the same day He counted Abram righteous. It came long before the law and never rested on law-keeping.
- Judged — The ten peoples were not just moved aside. They were sentenced, and Israel had to wait until the Amorites' guilt was full.
- Pending — Israel has never held these borders. Commentators expect the full grant when the nation receives its Messiah.
And Sarai Abram's wife did not bear him [children]. And she had an Egyptian maidservant; and her name was Hagar.
Abram has God's promise of many descendants, but no child — and in the tents there is an Egyptian servant girl. This chapter turns on the gap between believing a promise and waiting for it.
One writer sets this chapter against the one before it, and names what drove the change.
The fifteenth chapter may be called Abram's faith chapter. The sixteenth is the chapter of unbelief. It was impatience which forced Sarai and Abram to act for themselves. Unbelief is impatience and impatience is unbelief. Faith waits patiently for the Lord, and on the Lord, to act.
The failure was not in trusting God's word at the start. It was in the stretch of time afterwards.
It is one thing to believe a promise at first. It is quite another thing to wait quietly for it to be kept. We see this difference in a child all the time. If I promise my child anything, he has no idea of doubting my word. Yet I can see the greatest possible restlessness and impatience about when and how it will happen.
Sarai's childlessness was a real fact, not an imagined one. The mistake lay in what she reached for to fix it.
Had Sarai said, "Nature has failed me, but God is my resource," how different it would have been! That would have been her proper ground, for nature really had failed her. But it was nature in one shape, and so she wished to try nature in another. She had not learned to look away from nature in every shape. In the judgement of God, and of faith, nature in Hagar was no better than nature in Sarai.
The verse names Hagar's nationality. One writer thinks that detail points back to Abram's earlier stay in Egypt.
Hagar the Egyptian (Genesis 16:3) later caused great sorrow and trouble in his household, and she became the mother of Ishmael. Was she one of those maidservants given to Abraham for Sarah's sake in Egypt? It seems very probable that this was the case.
Another writer ties the same detail to what came of the arrangement.
Abram, urged on by Sarah, tried to anticipate the will of God and the keeping of the promise in its time. So in Hagar we have the covenant of the law, the source of distress and unrest… Man is in haste. He will not wait God's time, and he will not wait on Him about how the promise is to be kept. This is full of moral warning to us. It is always the source of unrest and sorrow. Hagar, too, was an Egyptian — a reminder also of the lack of faith in Abram.
Sarai made the proposal, but Abram acted on it. One writer weighs what he should have learned from the chapter before.
Abram's experience with the Lord in Genesis 15 ought to have strengthened him. He should have been sure that God's promise would stand, even though they had had to wait so long for it… But he listened to the voice of Sarai instead of listening to the voice of God alone.
Another writer follows Sarah's part right through the story.
Remember, it was Sarah, not Abraham, who took the lead in the whole sad affair of Hagar. She gave her to her own husband. She treated her so harshly that she ran away. And in the end it was Sarah who made the angry demand to cast out the slave woman and her son — a demand God approved.
Two women and two sons in one household carried a meaning no one at the time could see.
Who would have seen the difference between law and promise when Hagar and Ishmael quarrelled with Sarah and Isaac? The Spirit of God not only saw it. He intended the record of these events to be the beautiful foreshadowing of the two covenants. The covenant of law has only a child of the flesh. The covenant of promise brings forth in due time the child of the Spirit.
God's own answer came years later, when Abram had nothing left to contribute.
Chapter 16 is a parenthesis. Abram has a promise, and now tries to make it good without God. But then Abram is set aside. His body is now dead at ninety-nine years old. God reveals Himself and says: "I am going to give you many descendants."… That is, now that you are viewed as dead, I can do something with you.
- Promise. Abram believed God in chapter 15; the test in chapter 16 is not belief but the waiting that follows it.
- Impatience. Unbelief and impatience are the same thing wearing different clothes — faith waits on the Lord to act.
- Substitute. Nature had failed Sarai, so she tried nature in another form. She led and Abram followed, and to faith Hagar was no better than Sarai.
- Egypt. Scripture names Hagar an Egyptian. That word points back to the earlier lapse of faith that likely brought her into the tents.
- Death first. God waited until Abram's body was as good as dead. Only then could the promised seed be His gift and not man's device.
And Sarai said to Abram, Behold now, Jehovah has shut me up, that I do not bear. Go in, I pray thee, to my maidservant it may be that I shall be built up by her. And Abram hearkened to the voice of Sarai.
God had promised Abram a son, and Sarai was still childless. So she proposed a shortcut through her Egyptian servant Hagar, and Abram agreed without a word of protest. What do you do with a promise God has not yet kept?
Commentators place Abram's failure here not in his faith but in his patience.
Here we find unbelief casting its dark shadow across the spirit of Abraham... "And Sarai said to Abram, Behold now, the LORD has prevented me from bearing children." These words show the usual impatience of unbelief. Abraham should have treated them as such, and waited patiently on the Lord to fulfil His gracious promise. The poor heart naturally prefers anything to the attitude of waiting. It will turn to any expedient — any scheme — any resource, rather than be kept in that posture. It is one thing to believe a promise at the first, and quite another thing to wait quietly for it to be fulfilled... Abraham shows faith in Genesis 15, yet fails in patience in Genesis 16... God makes a promise, faith believes it; hope expects it; patience waits quietly for it.
Sarai names God as the reason she has no children, and draws a wrong conclusion from it. The results reach the whole household.
Faith does not reject earthly blessings when God gives them; but when someone tries to run ahead of God's time, it always brings sorrow. God will certainly perform His promise, but in His own way and time. Nature was impatient and could not wait. Unbelief made Sarai say that she was not included in the promise. Failure in this case seems greater in Sarai than in Abram. Still, he, like Adam, listened to his wife instead of trusting God. Hagar's son Ishmael is born. Sarai becomes envious, Hagar presuming. The result is strife in the household. This is always the case where the head of the house forgets his responsibility to God.
Hagar did not appear from nowhere. She most likely came from Abram's earlier stay in Egypt — an old failure supplying the material for a new one.
In the famine mentioned earlier, Egypt was near at hand, offering a refuge from worry about daily supply. The same thing happens here. "An Egyptian maid" — one of those maidservants, no doubt, that Abram had picked up during his stay in that evil place — was held out to him as relief in his worry about the promised seed. "And Abram listened to the voice of Sarai."
The goal was right; the method was not. Abram wanted the son God promised, but took a road God never opened.
To see the promise fulfilled, Abram did not need to fall back on a means that was merely human, and morally wrong as well. But he listened to the voice of Sarai instead of giving his full attention to the voice of God.
Later Scripture reads these two women as a picture. That is what gives the episode its lasting weight.
Flesh is impatient and wants the result at once, in its own way. She proposes her Egyptian servant Hagar, and Abram listens instead of walking by faith... The Letter to the Galatians gives the certain clue to what we might otherwise never have understood. It is the covenant of Sinai that she represents... The law brings not peace but wrath, not the fulfilment of the promise but fleshly pride, and a child born in sorrow who cannot be the heir... The believer has no more to do with it for himself now than Abram then should have taken Hagar.
The same pull works on believers today. It starts where grace itself looks barren.
Sarai stands for the principle of grace. And here is one of the strangest, saddest things in a believer's experience: what ought to be the source of fruitfulness in his life and walk looks barren... It is Sarai's barrenness that troubles us. And how, in this distress, Sarai herself seems to urge us to leave her, persuading us that Hagar may build her up!
Sarai devised the plan and Abram agreed to it. The blame does not fall evenly.
Without doubt Sarah was more to blame than Abram. In short, it was haste, springing from an obvious lack of faith. So she gave Hagar to her husband, and the results of that union soon appeared. As always, the one most to blame suffered the most.
- Promise — God pledged a son. Abram believed it in Genesis 15 and stumbled over the waiting in Genesis 16. Faith believes a promise; patience waits quietly for it.
- Impatience — Waiting is the posture the heart resists most, and it will take up any scheme rather than stay in it.
- Blame — Sarai traces her childlessness to God and concludes she is outside the promise. Abram, like Adam, listens to his wife instead of trusting God.
- Shortcut — Hagar was Egyptian, likely acquired during an earlier lapse. The plan was human and morally wrong. Galatians reads Hagar as the covenant of Sinai, and her son cannot inherit.
- Sorrow — Running ahead of God's time always brings sorrow, and the one most to blame suffered the most.
And Sarai Abram's wife took Hagar, the Egyptian, her maidservant, at the end of ten years that Abram had dwelt in the land of Canaan, and gave her to her husband Abram, as his wife.
Commentary for this verse has not been generated yet.
And he went in to Hagar, and she conceived. And when she saw that she had conceived, her mistress was lightly esteemed in her eyes.
Abram's household tried to secure God's promise by its own arrangement. The moment Hagar conceived, that arrangement turned on the woman who devised it. Commentators read what follows as a family tragedy and as a picture of something larger.
Abram believed God in the chapter before. But believing a promise and waiting for it are not the same thing.
The poor heart prefers anything to the attitude of waiting. It will turn to any scheme, any resource, rather than be kept in that position. It is one thing to believe a promise at first. It is quite another to wait quietly for it to be fulfilled... Abraham shows faith in Genesis 15, and yet he fails in patience in Genesis 16. So we feel the force and beauty of the apostle's word in Hebrews 6: "followers of them who through faith and patience inherit the promises." God makes a promise. Faith believes it, hope looks forward to it, and patience waits quietly for it.
The contempt lands on the woman who arranged it, and it costs her dignity. The writer quotes an older translation: the ESV's "looked with contempt on her mistress" reads there "her mistress was despised in her eyes."
He had promised a son, no doubt, but He had not said that this son would be Hagar's. In fact, the story shows that both Abraham and Sarah "multiplied their sorrow" by turning to Hagar. For "when she saw that she had conceived, her mistress was despised in her eyes." This was but the beginning of those multiplied sorrows, which flowed from hurrying after nature's resources. An Egyptian slave-woman trampled down Sarah's dignity, and Sarah found herself in the place of weakness and contempt. The only true place of dignity and power is the place of felt weakness and dependence.
A second writer points to the flaw in the plan itself.
Sarai could never be bound to the child the way his own mother would be. Verse 3 says she gave her maid to Abram "as his wife." So the child could not belong to Sarai at all. Hagar knew this. When she conceived, she despised Sarai, because Hagar had done what Sarai could not.
One writer reads the episode as a picture of law brought in to do what only promise can do.
Abram takes Hagar to have a child by her. Believers today do the same when they take up the law as a way to bear fruit, not for justification at all. Their very thought is the thing on trial here. At first the effect seems all anyone could wish: fruit comes at once. Only when God speaks does it become clear that Ishmael is not the promised seed after all. The immediate result is, Sarai is despised... So it ever is. Once you admit the principle of law, what is law if it is not sovereign? Faith may still cling to barren Sarai and own her, but the principle now brought in is still the exact opposite of it.
Another writer names the covenant that stands behind the picture.
The letter to the Galatians gives us the sure clue to what we might otherwise never have understood. Hagar stands for the covenant of Sinai, which answers to the Jerusalem of today, in bondage with her children. The law works not peace but wrath. It does not bring the promise about; it produces pride in the flesh, and a child born in sorrow who cannot be heir... The believer has no more to do with the law for himself now than Abram then should have taken Hagar.
Sarai's answer to the fallout was blame, not confession.
Sarah was only reaping the fruit of her own proposal, and yet she laid the blame on Abraham... This will not do. Hard treatment will not get rid of the slave woman. When we make mistakes and have to face the results, we cannot undo them by acting with a high hand... If we have done wrong, we should humble ourselves and confess the wrong, and wait on God for deliverance.
The chapter does not end in the damage.
Sarah was certainly more to blame than Abram. In short, she acted in haste, through an obvious lack of faith. So she gave Hagar to her husband, and the fruit of that union soon appeared. As always, she who was most to blame suffered the most... But we have again in this chapter the faithfulness of God even in the case of Hagar, who is told to return to her mistress and humble herself before her.
- Impatience — Abram believed the promise in chapter 15 but would not wait for it in chapter 16. Believing and waiting are not the same.
- Contempt — the first return on the shortcut is Sarai despised. The woman who devised the plan is the one it humbles.
- Sorrow multiplied — this scorn is only the beginning. Stepping off the path of faith brings deeper trial than staying on it.
- Pride, not the heir — in Galatians, Hagar stands for the covenant of Sinai, which produces pride in the flesh and a son who cannot inherit.
- Recovery — the way back is not blame or hard treatment. It is confessing the wrong and waiting on God, who stayed faithful even to Hagar.
And Sarai said to Abram, My wrong be on thee! I have given my maidservant into thy bosom; and now she sees that she has conceived, I am lightly esteemed in her eyes. Jehovah judge between me and thee!
Sarai had proposed the arrangement herself. Now that it has gone wrong, she turns on Abram and calls on the LORD to judge between them. The verse raises a question we all meet: what do we do with the trouble our own plans cause?
Sarai aims her complaint at her husband, though the plan was hers.
"And Sarai said, May the wrong done to me be on you!" When we act wrongly, we are often quick to lay the blame on someone else. Sarah was only reaping the fruit of her own proposal. Yet she says to Abraham, "May the wrong done to me be on you!" Then, with Abraham's permission, she tries to get rid of the trial her own impatience had brought on her.
Her demand that the LORD step in as judge points to what she felt she had lost.
Sarai blames Abram for the situation that arose after Hagar's conception. She asks the Lord to judge between her and Abram. No doubt she felt that Hagar was in effect robbing her of her husband. Abram did not remind her that the whole matter was her suggestion. But he made it clear to her that he had no intention of considering Hagar his wife.
Sarai complains that Hagar now looks down on her. There was a reason behind it.
Sarai should surely have realized that a child born in this way would not be hers at all. She could never be attached to the child in the way his own mother would be. In fact, verse 3 describes her giving her maid to Abram as giving her to him "as his wife." So the child could not possibly belong to Sarai. Hagar knew this. When she had conceived, she despised Sarai, because Hagar had achieved what Sarai could not.
Sarai had a better option, and she did not take it.
If we have done wrong, we should humble ourselves and confess the wrong, and wait on God for deliverance. But there was nothing like this shown in Sarah's case. Quite the reverse. There is no sense of having done wrong. Far from waiting on God for deliverance, she tries to rescue herself in her own way. Yet we will always find that every effort to fix our errors, before we fully confess them, only makes our path harder.
The quarrel in verse 5 did not begin in verse 5. It began when two people decided God was taking too long.
The fifteenth chapter may be called Abram's faith chapter. The sixteenth is the chapter of unbelief. It was impatience which forced Sarai and Abram to act for themselves. Unbelief is impatience and impatience is unbelief. Faith waits patiently for the Lord, and on the Lord, to act. "Whoever believes will not be in haste." Abram and Sarai attempted to help the Lord fulfil His promise. What a failure they made of it!
One shortcut spread trouble through the whole house.
God will perform His promise surely, but in His own way and time. Nature was impatient, and could not wait... Failure in this case seems greater in Sarai than in Abram. Still, he, like Adam, listened to his wife instead of trusting God. Ishmael is born. Sarai becomes envious, Hagar presumptuous. Household strife is the result.
Forgiveness and consequences are two different things.
Grace forgives the sin and restores the soul, but we still reap what we sow. Abraham and Sarah had to put up with the slave woman and her son for many years. Then they were rid of them in God's way. There is a special blessedness in leaving ourselves in God's hands.
Notice who paid most.
Undoubtedly Sarah was more to blame than Abram: in short, there was haste through an obvious lack of faith... As always, she who was most to blame suffered the most. It was not so much Abram as Sarah who suffered for her folly about her maid.
This household also carries a wider meaning. One writer connects Hagar with the law.
At Sarah's urging, Abram tried to run ahead of God's will and of the promise being fulfilled in its own time. So in Hagar we have the covenant of the law, the source of distress and unrest. God, however, takes care of the seed according to the flesh. The application of this as a figure is clear from Galatians 4... Man is in a hurry. He will not wait for God's time, and he will not wait on Him about the means of fulfilment. This is full of moral warning to us. It is always the source of unrest and sorrow.
- Haste. Impatience and unbelief are the same thing. Genesis 15 is Abram's chapter of faith; Genesis 16 is the chapter of unbelief.
- Household. Haste breeds strife. Sarai grew envious, Hagar grew proud, and one shortcut divided the home.
- Blame. When the shortcut fails, the flesh points at someone else — even when the plan was our own idea.
- Confession. The way out is down. Own the fault, ask forgiveness, and wait on God to deliver instead of rescuing ourselves.
- Harvest. Grace forgives the sin, but we still reap what we sow — and the one most to blame suffered the most.
And Abram said to Sarai, Behold, thy maidservant is in thy hand do to her what is good in thine eyes. And Sarai oppressed her; and she fled from her face.
Commentary for this verse has not been generated yet.
And the Angel of Jehovah found her by a spring of water in the wilderness, by the spring on the way to Shur.
Hagar has run from Sarai's harsh treatment, pregnant, with no home to go to and no plan beyond escape. Scripture does not record what she did next, only that she was found — and the one who found her is called "the angel of the LORD."
The messenger who meets Hagar makes promises only God can keep. That settles who He is.
In the verses that mention the angel of the Lord (vv. 7, 9, 10), the angel is clearly the Lord Himself. It is He who multiplies Abram's descendants. The term "angel" means a messenger, and Malachi 3:1 speaks of "the Lord whom you seek" as "the messenger of the covenant."
The title itself is flexible, and the surrounding words decide its sense each time it appears.
This expression, "the angel of the LORD," occurs over 100 times in the Old Testament. It means messenger or agent. Sometimes it describes an angelic messenger. Sometimes it refers to the Lord Himself. The context makes clear which is meant. In Genesis 16:7 the context proves that the Angel of the Lord is the Lord Himself.
Hagar is not the one searching here. The word "found" carries the weight of the verse. The search was on God's side. And the question He asks next shows how little she had planned.
But the Lord still had a good and kindly interest in Hagar. The angel of the Lord comes to her in her lonely distress as she is by a spring of water. At least she could find water, but it was a different matter to find food and shelter. The angel asked her where she had come from and where she would go. She could answer the first, but had no answer for the second. She was fleeing from her mistress. But where could a pregnant woman go, especially with no relatives or friends to contact?
Shur lay on the way back to Egypt, the country Hagar came from. Her direction of travel matches her name, and both fit the meaning Scripture itself gives her.
Of Hagar we also have the inspired interpretation. She is the covenant "from Mount Sinai, bearing children for slavery" — the only form of religion that man's natural thinking leads him to. Hagar is an Egyptian, a child of nature, or, as the letter to the Galatians interprets it, "the elementary principles of the world." Law tends to leave the place of a servant, and her very name shows it — Hagar means "fugitive." So the angel of the Lord finds her by the well, going down to Egypt. When Abram's house sends her away at last, she is found again with her son, drifting down toward Egypt. Afterwards Ishmael lives in the wilderness on Egypt's borders.
Hagar was not innocent. But she was also a servant with no say in the arrangement that put her here. God's answer meets both facts at once.
At this point the Angel of the Lord intervened. By the customs of that time, it seems Hagar had no choice in the matter. And God is a God of pity, and of judgment. Even if she had been rude to her mistress, she was not to be left in the wilderness in her need. But on her return she was to be subject and submit to her mistress. Looking at her personally, apart from what she pictures, she was as much sinned against as sinning. God's intervention held the scales of justice evenly.
The water source in this verse gets a name from Hagar's own lips, and that name outlives her visit. Years later the son of promise settles at the very spot where the Lord met the runaway.
Notice how beautiful this name Lahai-roi is, which means "the well of Him who lives and sees me." That was Hagar's own word. She realised the wonderful care of the Lord for her — how He had met her in her need, while she was fleeing from her mistress Sarah, to bring her back. He ministers to her by the springing well which He discovers for her. But Isaac lives there. Isaac, the child of the free woman, is our representative — the true child of God in this picture. He is the one who gets the well and controls it.
- Fugitive. Hagar's name means "fugitive." Her route through Shur was the road back to Egypt. She was running away, not toward anything.
- Found. The verb belongs to God. She could say where she had come from but not where she was going; He came to her while she was in distress.
- Divine. Scripture calls the one who found her the angel of the LORD. But He speaks as God Himself and promises what only God can give.
- Just. He neither excused her attitude nor abandoned her. He sent her back to submit, and He did not leave her in the desert.
- Named. The spring where grace found the runaway became "the well of Him who lives and sees me." Later it became the home of Isaac, the child of the free woman.
And he said, Hagar, Sarai's maidservant, whence comest thou? and whither art thou going? And she said, I am fleeing from the face of my mistress Sarai.
Hagar has run into the desert to escape a mistress who made her life unbearable. At a spring of water, a messenger of the Lord stops her with two questions: one about her past, one about her future.
She had no plan and no destination. One writer traces the flight back to the treatment she received once Sarai had been given a free hand with her:
Sarai took advantage of this permission from Abram and made life hard for Hagar. Countless employers have done the same, keeping their workers in misery by cruel oppression. Understandably, Hagar became a runaway, not knowing where she was going, but going anyway.
The second half of the question exposes that emptiness. She can name what she is running from, and nothing more:
But the Lord still had a good and kindly interest in Hagar. The angel of the Lord comes to her in her lonely distress as she is by a spring of water. At least she could find water, but it was a different matter to find food and shelter. The angel asked her where she had come from and where she would go. She could answer the first, but had no answer for the second. She was fleeing from her mistress. But where could a pregnant woman go, with no relatives or friends to turn to?
The messenger does not call her Abram's wife or Ishmael's mother. He calls her Sarai's servant — the very relationship she had grown proud of escaping:
In the Lord's judgment, Hagar was badly out of place in despising her mistress. He meets her in her wanderings, and He knows her only as Sarah's maid. So He sends her back with this instruction: "Return to your mistress, and submit yourself under her hand." She may receive promises about the son she will bear, but she is Sarah's maid still, and submission is her only duty.
Hagar was not simply in the wrong, and God does not treat her as if she were:
By the customs of that time, Hagar clearly had no choice in the matter. And God is a God of pity, and of judgment. Even if she had been rude to her mistress, God would not leave her in the desert in her need. But in returning she was to be subject and submit to her mistress. Looking at her as a person, apart from what she pictures, she was as much sinned against as sinning. God stepped in and held the scales of justice even.
Going back was not merely a change of address. It required the very thing that had caused the trouble to be reversed:
She was not only to return, but to stop despising her mistress, and instead submit to her. A wrong attitude had made it hard for her. To change her attitude into one of submission would of course make Sarai's attitude more favourable toward her.
Her name and her direction both say something. One writer reads her as a picture of the law given at Mount Sinai:
Of Hagar too we have the inspired interpretation. She is the covenant from Mount Sinai, the covenant that produces slavery. It is the only form of religion that man's natural thinking leads him to, and the one we fall back to if grace is let go. Hagar is therefore an Egyptian, a child of nature, or as the letter to the Galatians interprets it, "the elements of the world." … The tendency of law, as it were, to leave this place of service is shown in her very name — Hagar, that is, "fugitive"; and so the angel of the Lord finds her by the well, going down to Egypt.
The point is plain. No idol could have heard her or watched over her:
Can idols hear, or can they also look after people? No, the true God of heaven alone could hear and see when Hagar had run away. He is the same today. He hears you and sees you in the way you go. And not only that, but He loves you too.
- Found. God's messenger meets Hagar in her distress by a spring. She had run where no friend could follow, and He was already there.
- Questioned. She can say what she fled; she cannot say where she is going. Running away answers the past and leaves the future blank.
- Named. He addresses her as Sarai's servant. He knows her only in that relationship, and He restores her to it rather than releasing her from it.
- Weighed. She was as much sinned against as sinning. God holds pity and justice even. He will not leave her in the desert, and He will not excuse her contempt.
- Sent back. The cure is not a new place but a new attitude. She must go back and stop despising her mistress.
And the Angel of Jehovah said to her, Return to thy mistress, and submit thyself under her hands.
Hagar has run into the desert to escape Sarai's harsh treatment, and the Angel of the LORD finds her there. Why would God send a mistreated woman straight back to the mistress she fled?
The one who gives this command is not simply a heavenly messenger. Writers point to the wording of the chapter itself as proof of who is present.
This expression, "the Angel of the LORD" [Jehovah], occurs over 100 times in the Old Testament. It means messenger or agent. Sometimes it describes an angelic messenger, and sometimes it refers to the Lord Himself. The context makes it clear which is meant. In Genesis 16:7, for instance, the context clearly proves the Angel of the Lord is the Lord Himself.
And of everyone tangled up in this chapter, she is the only one God addresses.
We are not dealing here with the broad principles of moral good and evil, or with God's ordering of the world. We are dealing with man's ways inside the calling of God — man's, or woman's, workings and plannings, and the result left in God's hand. Hagar was the only person here who was in any way right, apart from despising her mistress, for which she suffered. And it is to her that an Angel, a messenger from Jehovah, speaks. He speaks to no one else in the chapter.
The instruction has two halves, and the second is the harder one.
There was only one course open to her, as the angel tells her: "Return to your mistress and submit to her." She was not only to return. She was to stop despising her mistress, and instead submit to her. A wrong attitude had made things hard for her. Changing that attitude into one of submission would of course make Sarai's attitude toward her more favourable.
Hagar was not the author of this mess. She had been handed to Abram, and she was pregnant and alone. God's answer meets both sides of that.
At this point the Angel of the Lord stepped in. By the customs of that time Hagar clearly had no choice in the matter, and God is a God of pity and of judgment. Even if she had been rude to her mistress, she was not to be left in the wilderness in her need. Only, on returning she was to be subject and submit to her mistress. Looking at her personally, apart from what she pictures, she was as much sinned against as sinning. God stepped in, and His intervention held the scales of justice even.
Sarai had tried to solve her own bad idea by force, and Hagar tried to solve hers by running. Neither works. The results of a wrong step have to run their course.
"The bondwoman" cannot be got rid of by harsh treatment. When we make mistakes and find ourselves having to face the results, we cannot undo those results by acting with a high hand. We often try this method, but we are sure to make matters worse by it. If we have done wrong, we should humble ourselves and confess the wrong. And we should wait on God for deliverance… So Hagar had to return, and give birth to her son.
The same writer draws the lesson wider: "Grace forgives the sin and restores the soul, but what is sown must be reaped."
God addresses her by her position — Sarai's maid — and that title governs everything He then says to her. Her place in the house also pictures something larger.
In the Lord's judgment, Hagar's despising of her mistress is very much out of place. When He meets her in her wanderings, He knows her only as Sarah's maid. He sends her back with this command: "Return to your mistress and submit to her." She may receive promises about the son who is to be born to her. But she is Sarah's maid still, and submission is her only duty. The law, too, has its hour. It may fill the house of God for a time, just as Hagar and her son now fill the house of Abraham for fourteen years. But to the heirs of the promise, even the age of the law was only a servant.
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- Found. The Angel of the LORD is the LORD Himself. Of everyone in this chapter, He speaks only to the runaway maid.
- Faced. Flight settled nothing. What was sown had to be reaped. Neither Sarai's harsh hand nor Hagar's distance could cancel the cost of one wrong step.
- Sent back. God returns her to the exact place she fled — not because the treatment was right, but because the way forward for her ran through it.
- Submitted. The command has two parts: return, and stop despising. Changing her attitude was the one thing in her power, and the thing most likely to change Sarai's.
- Held even. She was as much sinned against as sinning. God does not excuse her contempt, and He does not abandon her in the desert — pity and justice arrive in the same sentence.
And the Angel of Jehovah said to her, I will multiply thy seed exceedingly, that it shall not be numbered for multitude.
Hagar has run into the desert, pregnant and with nowhere to go, and the first words spoken to her there are a promise, not a rebuke. Two questions follow: who is this "angel of the LORD," and why does the chapter's greatest promise fall on a runaway servant?
The title "angel of the LORD" does not always point to the same person. Writers say the context decides it.
This expression, THE ANGEL OF THE LORD [Jehovah] occurs over 100 times in the Old Testament, meaning messenger or agent. Sometimes it describes an angelic messenger, and sometimes it refers to the Lord Himself. The context makes it clear which one is meant. The context of Genesis 16:7, for instance, clearly proves The Angel of the Lord is the Lord Himself. None but a Divine Person could speak such words.
The same writer notes how long the world waited for a moment like this.
Two thousand years of human history had rolled by before we have any record of angelic ministry. The first time, the angel of the Lord met Hagar — in truth the Lord Himself. Her child Ishmael was to be the father of a multitude that should not be numbered. This lifts the scene out of what is purely personal.
Genesis 16 is full of people making plans. God addresses only one of them, and it is not Abram or Sarai.
We are not dealing here with the large principles of moral good and evil, or with God's ordering of the world. We are dealing with man's ways inside the calling of God — man's, or woman's, workings and plans, and the result left in God's hand. The only person who was in any way right was Hagar, apart from despising her mistress, for which she suffered. To her an Angel — a messenger from Jehovah — speaks; not to anyone else in the chapter.
Others had used Hagar, and she had answered her mistress with contempt. One writer weighs both sides of her case.
At this point the Angel of the Lord intervened. By the customs of that time, Hagar had no say in the matter, and God is a God of pity and of judgment. Looking at her as a person, apart from what she pictures, she was as much sinned against as sinning. By stepping in, God held the scales of justice even.
A great promise does not release Hagar from the duty she ran from. The promise and the command travel together.
In the Lord's judgment, Hagar's contempt for her mistress is badly out of place. When He meets her in her wanderings, He knows her only as Sarah's maid. He sends her back with this instruction: "return to your mistress, and submit yourself under her hand." She may receive promises about the son who was to be born to her. But she is Sarah's maid still, and submission is her only duty.
The promise was not poetry. Commentators trace it in visible history, and note that it began at once.
Flesh has its privileges quickly. Already was the beginning of what Jehovah's angel prepared Hagar to expect, "I will surely multiply your offspring so that they cannot be numbered for multitude." Jehovah listened to her affliction, and could not forget Abraham. Ishmael was to be a wild-donkey of a man. His hand would be against every man, and every man's hand against him, and he would live facing all his brothers (Gen. 16:10-12). As we may easily see, this too has come true exactly, from that time until now.
A countless family is not the same as the promised line. Writers link this to how God later sorts Abraham's descendants.
From Romans 9:6-9, it would seem that Ishmael sets forth the unbelieving mass of Israel. There we read, "For not all who are descended from Israel belong to Israel, and not all are children of Abraham because they are his offspring, but 'Through Isaac shall your offspring be named.'" The unbelieving mass of the nation are children of Abraham according to the flesh. Only the believing remnant are the true seed according to promise. Still, even the children according to the flesh would be great on the earth.
- Who speaks. No created messenger could say "I will multiply." Commentators hold that here the angel of the LORD is the Lord Himself — the first such meeting on record.
- Who is heard. The promise falls on the one person God addresses in the chapter: a used, resentful runaway who was, as one writer puts it, as much sinned against as sinning.
- What she is given. A future she could never have arranged: descendants beyond counting, promised to a woman who owned nothing.
- How far it reached. The words came true in plain history. No one has ever counted the family of Ishmael, and the character named in verse 12 has held ever since.
- What it does not give. Multiplied is not the same as heir. God promised the child of the flesh greatness on earth. But the line of promise ran through Isaac, and He sent Hagar back a servant still.
And the Angel of Jehovah said to her, Behold, thou art with child, and shalt bear a son, and shalt call his name Ishmael, because Jehovah hath hearkened to thy affliction.
Hagar is a runaway slave, pregnant and alone in the desert, when a voice stops her and names her unborn son. The name carries a message — God had listened to her suffering — and it raises a question: who was speaking to her?
The one who meets Hagar carries the title "the angel of the LORD." Yet the promises He makes are God's own to make:
In these verses that speak of the angel of the Lord (vv. 7, 9, 10), the angel is clearly the Lord Himself. It is He who multiplies Abram's descendants. The term "angel" means a messenger, and Malachi 3:1 speaks of "the Lord whom you seek" as "the messenger of the covenant."
Hagar's mistress had treated her harshly. God's answer neither excuses her nor abandons her:
At this point the Angel of the Lord stepped in. By the customs of that time, Hagar plainly had no choice in the matter. And God is a God of pity, and of judgment. Even if she had been rude to her mistress, she should not be left in the wilderness in her need. Only, on returning, she was to be subject and submit to her mistress. Looking at her as a person, apart from what she stands for, she had sinned, but she had been sinned against just as much. God stepped in and held the scales of justice even.
This sets the true God apart from the idols people trust:
Can idols hear, or can they also look after people? No, the true God of heaven alone could hear and see when Hagar had run away. He is the same today. He hears you and sees you in the way you go.
The name points back to what God has just done. Hagar answers it by giving God a name of her own:
And not only this: God foretold the future of the coming son. He gave the boy his name and marked out his character. His name means "God hears." Hagar spoke of God as "You are the God who sees me," or "You are the God who reveals Himself" (New Trans.). The well where the angel appeared to her became known as "The well of the Living who was seen." So even poor Hagar gained blessing from this painful episode.
Besides Jesus, only a handful of people in Scripture were named before they were born, and Ishmael is one of them:
Five other people in the Bible were named before their birth: Isaac, Genesis 17:19; Ishmael, Genesis 16:11; Josiah, 1 Kings 13:2; Cyrus, Isaiah 44:28, and John the Baptist.
Years later Hagar is in the wilderness again, this time with a dying son. The name given here becomes the ground of her rescue:
The mother gave in to despair. She laid her son down to die at a distance from her. But "God heard the boy's voice," and His angel tells Hagar to hold him by the hand. Had not Jehovah called his name Ishmael, because He had heard her affliction? ... She may have forgotten God's promise that a countless multitude would spring from her, and that Ishmael would live in the presence of all his brothers. But God remembered him, and declares that He will make him a great nation.
Being heard is not the same as being chosen. Ishmael receives a promise and a future, but not the covenant line:
Before he was born, Hagar ran away because her mistress treated her harshly. The angel of the Lord appeared to her and told her to return to her mistress. Her descendants should be countless, and she was to call her son's name Ishmael, which means 'El shall hear.' ... Abraham prayed that Ishmael might live before God. But Ishmael pictures the seed of Abraham according to the flesh. So although God answered that He would bless Ishmael, and multiply him greatly ... yet the covenant should be established with Isaac.
- Heard. The name Ishmael records what God did before the boy was born. He listened to the affliction of a slave woman nobody else heard.
- Seen. The One who heard is the Lord Himself, under the title "the angel of the LORD." Hagar answers by naming Him the God who sees her.
- Sent back. Being heard did not lift Hagar out of her situation. God sent her back to submit to her mistress, and held the scales of justice even.
- Proved. Years later Hagar forgot the promise. In the desert God heard her son's cry — the name held even when her faith did not.
- Not the heir. God heard Ishmael and made him a great nation. Yet the covenant went to Isaac. To be heard by God is real mercy, but it is not the same as being the child of promise.
And he will be a wild-ass of a man, his hand against every man, and every man's hand against him; and he shall dwell before the face of all his brethren.
Hagar has run from Sarai into the desert. There the angel of the LORD promises her a son — and then describes the man that son will become, in words that sound like a warning. What does it mean to call a man a wild donkey? And how has that word held up over the centuries since?
The same message gives the boy a comforting name and tells Hagar what he will become.
Hagar was not to be the mother of God's promised child to Abram. Yet the Lord cares about her and about her expected child. He tells her to name the child "Ishmael," which means "God will hear" (v. 11). But the boy's character would match the fact that he was born from a union of opposite parents — the father a free man, the mother a slave. He would be contentious, his hand against all other men, and of course they would therefore be against him. This has been one of the characteristics of the Arabs from that time... Abram learned by experience, and all this history teaches us that a wrong union leads to trouble and sorrow.
The phrase is not a general insult. The Hebrew names a specific animal, and the New Testament later explains why that animal fits this child.
He was to be a "wild man." The word really means a "wild donkey." In the light of Galatians 4, this is significant, since "the son of the slave was born according to the flesh." Romans 8:7 tells us that the mind of the flesh "is hostile to God, for it does not submit to God's law; indeed, it cannot." Man after the flesh has lawlessness stamped upon him, and the wild donkey is a fitting picture of him.
Scripture describes this animal elsewhere. The description matches how Ishmael's descendants lived.
No one ever drew a sharper picture than the one Scripture gives of Ishmael's descendants in the words quoted here. "Who has let the wild donkey go free? Who has loosed the bonds of the swift donkey, to whom I have given the arid plain for his home and the salt land for his dwelling place? He scorns the tumult of the city; he hears not the shouts of the driver. He ranges the mountains as his pasture, and he searches after every green thing" (Job 39:5-8). Such exactly are the Bedouins. No sober Christian supposes a perpetual miracle as to Ishmael, but that what God said of that race is as sure as what He said of Israel.
The verse did not just come true once. It stayed true while other nations changed beyond recognition.
The meaning of Genesis 16:12 is as plain as it is striking, and as applicable today as for thousands of years past. This is not true of any other notable people. Compare the Egyptians, the Assyrians, or the Israelites. Every one of them has gone through change after change. How little, if at all, has the Bedouin changed?
The last line of the verse settles something. Nobody would be able to remove this troublesome presence.
Man in the flesh is not only lawless in regard to God but antagonistic in regard to his fellows. The one characteristic springs out of the other. There could be no peace where Ishmael was. Worse still, there was to be no shutting him out and no getting rid of him. The decree was, "he shall dwell over against all his kinsmen." Hagar was a picture of the covenant of the law, given at Sinai. Now that did not abolish the man after the flesh. It only laid restraint upon him.
Ishmael had his father's love and the outward mark of God's covenant. Neither one changed him.
Abraham's heart yearned over Ishmael. His cry was, "Oh that Ishmael might live before you!" More than that, Ishmael was circumcised, so he outwardly carried the mark of the Covenant (Gen. 17:18, 25). Yet none of it worked... He remained wild, stubborn and quarrelsome — a fitting picture of the flesh.
The verse describes a temper, not only a tribe. One writer turns it into a warning for anyone quick to quarrel.
Do not be fault-finding or quick to criticize. Do not quarrel with unscriptural expressions from others, but be extremely accurate in your own statements and quotations from Scripture. Do not be an Ishmaelite (Gen. 16:12) among the people of God, for "the Lord's servant must not be quarrelsome but kind to everyone, able to teach, patiently enduring evil, correcting his opponents with gentleness" (2 Tim. 2:24-25).
- Cause. Ishmael was born to a free man and a slave. The writers trace his character back to that "wrong union," which "leads to trouble and sorrow."
- Character. "Wild man" means "wild donkey of a man." He is untamed, deaf to the driver's shout, a picture of the flesh with "lawlessness stamped upon him."
- Conflict. He is lawless toward God and hostile toward people. "The one characteristic springs out of the other," so "there could be no peace where Ishmael was."
- Continuance. Abraham's prayer did not change him, and neither did circumcision. The law "did not abolish the man after the flesh. It only laid restraint upon him."
- Confirmation. The verse is still "as applicable today as for thousands of years past." Egypt, Assyria and Israel all changed. And the Bedouin? Hardly changed at all.
And she called the name of Jehovah who spoke to her, Thou art the God who reveals himself, for she said, Also here have I seen after he has revealed himself.
Hagar is a pregnant runaway slave in the desert, mistreated and heading nowhere, when God finds her and speaks. She answers by giving Him a name, which raises two questions: who was the "angel of the LORD" she met, and how much did she come to know of Him?
The title "angel of the LORD" does not always mean a created being.
This expression, THE ANGEL OF THE LORD [Jehovah] occurs over 100 times in the Old Testament, meaning messenger or agent. Sometimes it describes an angelic messenger, and sometimes it refers to the Lord Himself. The context makes clear which one is meant. Genesis 16:7 is one example: the context there proves that The Angel of the Lord is the Lord Himself.
So the verse says she named "the LORD who spoke to her." She was naming God Himself.
Translators have rendered her words in more than one way. One writer sets the options side by side, with the meanings of the son's name and of the well:
The angel also foretold the future of the coming son, giving his name and describing his character. His name means, "God hears." Hagar spoke of God as "You God see me," or "You are the God who reveals Himself" (New Trans.). The well where the angel appeared to her became known as "The well of the Living who was seen." So even poor Hagar gained blessing from this painful episode.
Those renderings come from older translations; the ESV has "You are a God of seeing." Hagar had not seen a form or a face. One writer weighs what her words actually claim:
Hagar was so impressed by this intervention of God that she called Him "the God who sees." "For," she adds, "Have I also here seen Him who sees me?" She had not seen God in person. But she recognized Him in the words He had spoken to her, and she was clearly subdued. We cannot be certain whether she was born again. Yet no one is ever the same after meeting the Lord of glory.
Hagar is no hero here. Her trouble was partly her own doing, and she was not looking for God when He came.
In her own story Hagar is an example or picture — hardly a type — of how divine grace deals with a helpless and despairing sinner. She ends up in the worst misery and danger, partly by her own fault and partly through injustice and misfortune. Yet a God of compassion remembers her and sees her. She is dying of thirst, though a well of springing water stands at her side (Gen. 21:19). She does not seem to remember God or seek Him. But He sends His angel with the gracious question, "What ails you, Hagar? Arise."
Commentators differ on how much Hagar grasped. One writer weighs her words and finds them limited:
She was the slave woman, and knew nothing of the freedom of grace. She might look after God, but all she reached was this: "You God see me." The simple awareness that God sees us never goes further than this: that He is a Judge who notices our ways in order to deal with them, or, at most, a guardian who protects us in the hour of difficulty and danger. But love, liberty, rest, joy in God are never known through the bare truth that God sees us.
Another finds more in the name of the well:
How blessed to learn that God heard Hagar's cry! For her refreshment He provided the well Beer-lahai-roi, "Well of the living who was seen." God not only sees me. He has revealed Himself in grace so that I may see Him.
Readers take this verse two ways. First, as a restraint, when nobody else would know:
He can slip off to questionable places of amusement, and nobody be any the wiser. Nobody the wiser? "YOU GOD SEE ME" (Gen. 16:13) was a great deterrent and safeguard to the writer in his youthful days. God sees, God knows, God notes.
And as comfort, because the God who sees is not indifferent:
Can idols hear, or can they also look after men? No, the true God of heaven alone could hear and see when Hagar had run away. He is the same today. He hears you and sees you in the way you go. And not only that, but He loves you too.
- Sought — Hagar was not looking for God; He found her, "a helpless and despairing sinner" who "does not seem to remember God nor seek Him."
- Spoke — the "angel of the LORD" who met her was the Lord Himself, not a created messenger.
- Seen — she knew Him by His words, not by sight. Her son's name means "God hears"; the name she gave God says that He sees.
- Stored — the meeting left a landmark: the well "of the Living who was seen," where God revealed Himself in grace.
- Settled — God's seeing restrains us when no one else is watching. It also comforts us, because the God who sees hears and loves.
Therefore the well was named Beer-lahai-roi behold, it is between Kadesh and Bered.
God met a runaway slave woman alone in the desert. The well where it happened took its name from what she said about Him, and that name stayed on the map long after her.
Most English Bibles leave the Hebrew name untranslated. One reference work places the well and gives its meaning:
This means "well of the living and seeing one." The well lay between Kadesh and Bered, "on the way to Shur," and so in the south. It was here that the angel of the LORD met Hagar, when she fled from Sarai. Her cry at that moment, "You, God, see me," gave the well its name. Isaac lived near the same well Lahai-roi (Gen. 24:62; Gen. 25:11).
(The ESV renders her words in verse 13 as "You are a God of seeing.")
Commentators differ over which side of the name to stress — God seeing her, or her seeing God. One writer gives both readings, and notes that this hard episode still ended in gain for her:
Hagar spoke of God as "You, God, see me," or "You are the God who reveals Himself." The well by which the angel appeared to her became known as "The well of the Living who was seen." So even poor Hagar drew blessing from this trying episode.
One writer thought earlier English Bibles handled names like this better:
Some of the early versions wisely and correctly translated the Hebrew words that our present Bibles leave untranslated. It is true that many Bibles put the translation in the margin. But then the reader asks: is the margin correct? And if so, why is it not in the text? The well of "Beer-lahai-roi" (Gen. 16:14) is rendered in the old versions the well of Him that "lives and sees me."
One writer links the well to God's answer to her cry, and to what she could then see of Him:
How wonderful to learn that God heard Hagar's cry! For her refreshment He provided the well Beer-lahai-roi, "Well of the living who was seen." God not only sees me, but has revealed Himself in grace so that I may see Him.
Another writer sets a limit on how far Hagar herself got. He warns that the bare truth that God sees us brings no rest by itself:
She was the bondwoman: she knew nothing of the liberty of grace. She might look after God, but what she reached was this: "You, God, see me." The simple awareness that God sees us never goes beyond two thoughts. Either He is a Judge noticing our ways to deal with them, or, at most, He is a guardian to protect in the hour of difficulty and danger. But love, liberty, rest, joy in God are never known through the bare truth that God sees us. No one denies that it is true. But as believers we are entitled to something further and more precious: seeing God — seeing Him who is invisible.
Isaac later came from this well and settled by it. One writer draws out what that says about the One waiting at the end of a journey:
In all these wilderness scenes Isaac has taken no active part. Yet he kept in mind all that was happening. He comes from the well Lahairoi — a word of deep meaning, for it means "the well of Him that lives and sees" (Genesis 16:14). How good to know, as we travel on our way, that at the end of the journey we shall find One who has kept His people in mind. He sees and He lives — indeed the word is "He always lives" (Heb. 7:25).
One writer turns the name into a question about where we live:
Don't you think it would do us good if we as Christians dwelt more by Lahai-roi? If we knew a little better what our God has given us, and so knew better the blessing in it? Hagar called it "the well of Him that lives and sees"! That is what it is. It is the "well of Him that lives and sees" us, the well of God, the living water.
- Named — a runaway woman's words about God named the well between Kadesh and Bered: "well of the living and seeing one."
- Seen — Hagar found that God saw her in the desert. One writer adds that God also revealed Himself, so that she could see Him.
- Limited — the bare truth that God sees you gives you a Judge or a guardian. Love, liberty and rest come from seeing Him.
- Lasting — Isaac later came from this well and settled by it, so the name became a home address, not just a memory.
- Ours — the call is to live where Isaac lived: beside the well of the One who sees us and always lives.
And Hagar bore Abram a son; and Abram called the name of his son whom Hagar bore, Ishmael.
Genesis 16 opens with a plan to help God's promise along, and it closes with a baby boy. The plan worked — so why do the commentators read this birth as a warning?
Abram had God's promise of a son, but no son. Instead of waiting for God's time, he took Sarai's advice.
At Sarah's urging, Abram tried to get ahead of God's will and to bring about the promise before its time. So we have the covenant of the law pictured in Hagar, the source of distress and unrest. God, however, still takes care of the child born in the natural way. The application of this as a figure is clear from Galatians 4. The pride of man under the law is marked in Hagar's spirit, yet her son cannot be heir. The haste of man, who will not wait for God's time and will not wait on Him as to the means of fulfilment, is full of moral warning to us. It is always the source of unrest and sorrow. Hagar, too, was an Egyptian — a reminder of Abram's lack of faith. Law and flesh, and indeed sin, always go together.
Sarai's plan had been to build her own family through her servant. The verse gives her no such credit.
Verse 15 records the birth of Ishmael. It calls him Abram's son, not Sarai's.
Abram gives the name, but the name is not about Abram. It looks back to God's answer for the mother, and forward with a warning about the child.
The name of the son, Ishmael, was to mark that God heard Hagar in her affliction. It pointed to her, not to him. He was to be a "wild man" (ESV: "a wild donkey of a man"); the word really means a wild donkey. In the light of Galatians 4 this matters, since "the son of the slave was born according to the flesh." Romans 8:7 tells us that the mind set on the flesh "is hostile to God, for it does not submit to God's law; indeed, it cannot." Man after the flesh has lawlessness stamped on him, and the wild donkey is a fitting picture of him.
The plan produced a son. That is the trap: it appeared to work.
But we can read even more into this. Ishmael was not the child of Hagar only, but of Abraham also. The man of faith had taken the bondservant to his heart, and Ishmael was the fruit of it. Though Abraham's seed, Ishmael is cast out. Is it not easy to see here that even the man of faith, if he uses law as a way to produce fruit, will find that the law is the "power of sin", not of holiness? The wild donkey nature will show itself in the fruit which God cannot own, instead of the fruit He has promised!
Scripture itself interprets this birth. The letter to the Galatians takes Abraham's two sons as a picture of two natures at war.
In Galatians, just as the apostle uses Isaac to set forth all that we are as born of the Spirit, so he uses Ishmael to set forth our old man — all that we are as born after the flesh. He shows, too, that the man who is after the flesh is entirely opposed to the man who is after the Spirit. "Just as at that time he who was born according to the flesh persecuted him who was born according to the Spirit, so also it is now" (Gal. 4:28-31).
Scripture dates this birth, and then dates God's next word to Abram. The gap between the numbers tells its own story.
Abram was eighty-six years old when Ishmael was born. The next chapter tells us that Abram was ninety-nine years old when the Lord spoke to him again. So for thirteen years Abram's life seems to have been barren of communications from the Lord. What a harvest of the flesh.
The silence was not the end. God spoke again, and He gave a new name for Himself.
When Abram was 99 years old, another great revelation reached him, and God established a further covenant, as we find in Genesis 17. Here for the first time we get "Almighty God" (El-Shaddai) — the God who can raise the dead, and to whom nothing is impossible. God Almighty was the name that belonged to the unconditional covenant made with Abram. That covenant depended altogether upon God, and His almighty power guaranteed its final fulfilment.
- Haste — Abram would not wait for God's time. Impatience with the promise is always a source of unrest and sorrow.
- Flesh — the child was real fruit, but the fruit of human effort. Even a man of faith who works this way gets what God will not own.
- Name — Ishmael means God heard. The name marks His care for Hagar in her affliction, not a promise to her son.
- Silence — then thirteen years pass with no recorded word from God. That is the harvest of the flesh.
- Almighty — God speaks again as El-Shaddai. He rests the covenant on His own power, and only that power could ever fulfil it.
And Abram was eighty-six years old when Hagar bore Ishmael to Abram.
Genesis 16 ends like a legal record — a name, a birth, and a number. That number fixes Abram's age at the birth of Ishmael, and the next chapter gives another age before God speaks again.
In the chapter before, Abram believed God. This one closes with a son he arranged for himself. Commentators put the failure not in doubting the promise, but in the wait for it.
The poor heart naturally prefers anything to waiting. It will turn to any device — any scheme — any resource, rather than stay in that place. It is one thing to believe a promise at first. It is quite another thing to wait quietly for it to be fulfilled… Abraham shows faith in Genesis 15, and yet he fails in patience in Genesis 16.
Sarai looked for a way round the delay. She found it in another person.
Had Sarah said, "Nature has failed me, but God is my resource," how different it would have been! This would have been her proper ground, for nature really had failed her. But it was nature in one shape, and so she wished to try nature in another. She had not learned to look away from nature in every shape. In the judgement of God, and of faith, nature in Hagar was no better than nature in Sarah.
Set this verse beside the opening of the next chapter and count the years between.
Abram was eighty-six years old when Ishmael was born. The next chapter tells us that Abram was ninety-nine years old when the Lord spoke to him again. So for thirteen years Abram's life seems to have been barren of communications from the Lord. What a harvest of the flesh.
Those years are not just quiet. The record skips them — a long stretch of a great man's life left uncounted.
Nearly fourteen years had passed since the birth of Ishmael, this son of the slave woman: this effort of man's own energy to carry out the thoughts of God. He was born in Abraham's house and grew up there for twice seven years. For a while everything looked promising. But for those fourteen years Abraham had walked a path he chose himself. His history passes over these years as a blank — completely unrecognised. And oh, how many histories of God's saints will turn out to be a blank one day!
God had a reason for waiting. Writers tie the silence to the moment when Abram's own strength had nothing left to offer.
In the letter to the Hebrews we read of Abraham that "when he had patiently waited, he obtained the promise" (Hebrews 6:12-15). The story of Hagar and Ishmael has shown that under pressure he failed in patience… For thirteen years he patiently endured… God waits until all hope of obtaining the blessing by the efforts of the flesh is over.
Commentators read Ishmael as more than a person. He stands for a way of getting what God had promised.
We have had the seed promised in a general way; and now Abram wants to get it according to his own will in the flesh, and he takes Hagar (chapter 16). Ishmael is "he that is born after the flesh," which is really of the law, an attempt to get the heir on legal ground and take the promises. It was an attempt to get the heir by the flesh, and it all came to misery and confusion.
The son is born and the years are counted. Abram will spend them learning what his shortcut cost him.
An Ishmael was Abram's measure, an Isaac was God's. In the meantime Abraham must learn what the fruit of his impatience is. He learns it through quarrels, strife and sorrow. In the end he must do what was very "grievous in his sight" — send away his son. So our inventions only postpone our real blessings, because we have to see the end of them.
- Promise. Abram truly believed God in the previous chapter; nothing here cancels that. The failure was in the waiting, not in the believing.
- Impatience. Sarai swapped one human resource for another. She never looked away from both to God.
- Ishmael. The child of that shortcut stands for the man born of the flesh. Trying to secure God's promise on human ground ends in confusion.
- Silence. The two ages, here and in the next chapter, frame thirteen years with no word from God. The record leaves that stretch of a great life blank.
- Set time. God spoke again only when every hope from human effort was gone. Our own inventions do not speed the promise up. They delay it.
And Abram was ninety-nine years old, when Jehovah appeared to Abram, and said to him, I [am] the Almighty God walk before my face, and be perfect.
Thirteen silent years pass between Ishmael's birth and this appearance. God does not scold Abram; He tells him His name and gives one short command — so what does "God Almighty" mean, and what walk does it ask for?
A note on wording: where the ESV reads "be blameless," the older translations these writers quote read "be perfect."
Why the long gap? One writer links the silence to Abram's own effort to gain the blessing.
The story of Hagar and Ishmael has shown that, under pressure, he failed in patience. That story closed with the statement that Abram was eighty-six years old when Hagar bore Ishmael to Abram. Now we read, "When Abram was ninety-nine years old the LORD appeared to Abram." For thirteen years he patiently endured. During these years there is no record of any communications to Abraham. God waits until every hope of gaining the blessing by the efforts of the flesh is gone.
The Hebrew behind "God Almighty" is El Shaddai. Commentators differ on how to translate the second word.
The first mention of this name is in Genesis 17:1: El Shaddai — God Almighty. The word El is said to mean strength, or almighty power. Some think Shaddai means the same thing. Others prefer to translate it all-sufficient, or self-sufficient. Either way, the two words together point to divine attributes, since only God has almighty power and all-sufficiency.
Earlier God had described Himself by what He would do for Abram — shield him, reward him. Here the language changes, and the change carries a demand with it.
God is faithful to His word. His grace rises above failure and gives fuller, deeper disclosures of Himself. Earlier God had said, "I am your shield; your reward shall be very great" — what He was to and for Abram, Protector and Giver of blessings. Now He reveals Himself, a far more blessed thing: "I am El Shaddai." With this revelation comes the command, "Walk before me, and be perfect." When God was only giving promises, He gave no such call to holy walking. When He reveals Himself, the person who receives the revelation must be holy. True and peaceful knowledge of God cannot be separated from a holy life. If we want to enjoy close communion by walking with God, we must also walk before Him in holiness. These two things cannot be pulled apart.
The word does not mean a life without sin. It points back to the name just given, and Abraham himself later fell short.
God said to Abraham, "I am the Almighty God; walk before me, and be perfect" (Gen. 17:1), which means that he was to walk before God, always trusting in His almighty power. Abraham did not do so. He failed here, and told a lie (Gen. 20:2), for the very reason that he did not trust God's almighty power. Here again the passage is not about the sin Abraham had by nature. It is about his acting in full confidence in the almighty power of God.
You might expect almighty power to point at armies and enemies. See what this verse ties it to instead.
If He was the Almighty God, it was not just a question of enemies now. Not a word is said about them. They do not need God's almighty power to deal with them. But He needed to be the Almighty God to bring about the blessedness He is here speaking of. El Shaddai, I repeat, is linked not with putting down enemies but — wonderful to say — with Abram's walk before Him! "Be perfect."
God has made Himself known by three names. Each one comes with its own call to be perfect.
God revealed Himself to the fathers as "El Shaddai," and they were to walk in the faith of that name. He revealed Himself as Jehovah to Moses and Israel, and they were to walk in the faith of that. He reveals Himself to us as Father, and so we are to walk. "I am El Shaddai, walk before me and be perfect," "You shall be perfect with the LORD your God," "You therefore must be perfect, as your heavenly Father is perfect."
- Wait — thirteen silent years follow Abram's own effort to secure the promise. God speaks again only when hope in the flesh has run out.
- Name — El Shaddai joins strength to sufficiency. Commentators differ over the exact sense of Shaddai, but both readings point to what God alone is.
- Shift — earlier God said what He would be for Abram. Here He says what He is, and that revelation brings a call to a holy walk.
- Measure — being perfect here is not sinlessness. It is steady trust in almighty power, and Abraham later lied because that trust failed.
- Reach — the pattern repeats: Almighty to the fathers, LORD to Israel, Father to us. Each name sets the standard for the walk that answers it.
And I will set my covenant between me and thee, and will very greatly multiply thee.
God speaks to Abram here at the end of a long wait: Abram is ninety-nine, and his own effort to secure a son through Hagar has already failed. What does God promise, on what terms, and why does He wait until natural hope is gone?
God names Himself first, and only then speaks of the covenant. Notice what He does not say:
God first presents Himself to Abram in His almighty power. Then He speaks of the land given for ever to him and to his offspring. But not a word of this at first. It was of the greatest importance to Abram that not one word be said about his prospects until God had revealed Himself. God does not even say, "I am your God." He does not connect Himself with Abram in any such way. The first word here was the simple revelation, "I am God Almighty." On this Abram's heart rests. It is not Abram seeking it for himself from God, but God unfolding Himself to Abram... He does not yet explain how the covenant would be carried out; that follows in due time.
Across this chapter one word keeps returning, and one word never appears at all.
"I will" is the phrase that marks this covenant. It begins, "I will make My covenant," and it ends, "I will be their God." The little word "if" stands out by being absent, because this was a covenant with no condition on Abram's part. He had tried to get a son by natural means through Hagar. But God meant to multiply him greatly. God would make him the father of many nations, secure the land of promise for his offspring, and be their God in a special way.
Abram's record before this was not spotless. The name God takes here answers that, and shows who can speak in such absolute terms:
Abraham's way had not been altogether perfect. He was a man of true faith and patience. Yet when he turned aside to Egypt, he failed in faith. In the matter of Hagar, he failed in patience. Now, having learned his weakness, he learns that God is Almighty. If God is Almighty, then His purposes and promises will come true. They will come true however impossible they look to nature, to sight, and to the flesh. Abraham only has to remember that God is Almighty, and at once every difficulty will disappear and every obstacle will be overcome. In quiet faith and patience he will be able to wait for God to act in God's own time. No longer is Abraham to expect anything from nature. Everything depends upon God from first to last. We can say, "If God wills." Who but the Almighty God can rightly say, "I will"?
The timing matters. God speaks when nature has nothing left to give:
Abram has a promise, and now tries to make it good independently of God. But when Abram is set aside — his body now dead at ninety-nine years old — God reveals Himself. He says, I am going to give you many descendants, and you must circumcise them, and so on. That is, now that you are viewed as dead, I can do something with you.
Chapter 15 had also named nations to Abram. Those names carried a very different weight:
Those listed at the end of chapter 15 were the enemies. They were the races that had taken over the land, and they had to be subdued. But now a far higher range of things opens. Abram should have a child, and be the father "of many nations." Clearly, then, the circle is far wider, and all in pure grace. Abram has not asked a word; nor does he seek any pledge or token.
The covenant carries no conditions, so the call to walk before God cannot be its price:
As Christians we are not asked to walk well in order to get the blessing, and Abraham was not asked that either. We are asked to walk in a way that suits God because we are blessed. To walk in this way and be perfect before God calls for dependence upon God and His Almighty power. But this involves the entire refusal of the flesh. Circumcision was brought in for this purpose. It was a sign that the flesh must be put to death, if the walk is to be perfect before God.
- Name first. God reveals what He is before He mentions a single blessing. The covenant rests on His character, not on Abram's prospects.
- Almighty. The promise is safe because of who guarantees it — we may say "if God wills," but only He can say "I will."
- No "if." The chapter runs on "I will" from start to finish. The word "if" never appears, because nothing depends on Abram.
- Death first. God waits until Abram is ninety-nine and past natural hope. Then He multiplies him, working where nature has nothing left to offer.
- Then walk. The call to walk before God does not buy the blessing. It is the life that suits a man already blessed, and it means refusing the flesh — what circumcision stood for.
And Abram fell on his face; and God talked with him, saying,
God makes Himself known, and Abram drops to the ground with nothing to say. The verse holds two things that belong together: a man flat on his face, and God speaking with him.
Abram did not fall because he was asking for something. In an earlier scene he had asked. Here God shows who He is, and that alone brings him down.
But now there is far more than this; not what Abram feels or wants, but what God wanted for him and loved to give him. So God gives the richest revelation ever made known up to that time... What was the consequence? No horror of deep darkness follows now, no deep sleep falls on him here. "Abram fell on his face"... So the circle is far wider now, and all in pure grace. Abram has not asked a word; nor does he seek any pledge or token.
In the first meeting Abram is taken up with his own case. In this one he is taken up with God.
When the word of the LORD came to Abraham in a vision, it revealed what God was for Abraham. At once Abraham thought of himself. In happy confidence he speaks to God, spreading out his needs and stating his difficulties before Him. Here God visits Abraham in person and reveals who He is in Himself. Abraham falls on his face as a listener, and God speaks to him. He realizes his own nothingness in the presence of God's greatness. This revelation leads him to think of God, and forms in him a character that matches the One who meets his need: he walks before God and is perfect.
Commentators differ on the state of Abram's soul in the dust. One reading takes the fall as nearness, not distress:
He never felt so overwhelmed in the presence of God, just because he had never been so near Him in spirit before... His falling on his face is not conviction of sin, or darkness of soul, but lowliness before God. In practice he is far nearer to God than in Genesis 15, and he can trust His word more simply.
Another reading finds darkness in it rather than nearness:
Abraham had not fallen on his face when the Lord appeared to him and spoke to him in chapter 15. There he stood, conscious that he was in the light with the Lord. But darkness had now come over his soul, and he is not ready for the Lord. He is on his face, silent and amazed... The change in his experience is great; but there is no change in the Lord; for it is the same love, whether He rebukes or comforts.
Some translations render the second half of the verse "God talked with him." That wording is conversational, and one writer draws a sharp line from it.
Joy in God is communion, and a deeper thing. Presenting a need to God (as in Genesis 15) is not communion. "God talked with Abraham… his friend" — this is communion. What a different idea of God we tend to have! Communion with God is the place the heart retreats to.
The name used here is worth noticing. The title announced a moment before is not the one that carries the talk.
Note the calmness of Abram here. He can enter, with nothing coming between, into what God is in Himself as "the Almighty God." But further, it says, "God talked with him" — not "the Almighty" and not "Jehovah," but "God talked with him, saying, Behold, my covenant is with you, and you shall be the father of a multitude of nations... No longer shall your name be called Abram, but your name shall be Abraham."
This is not the end of the story. The man who asked nothing for himself here pleads for others one chapter later.
Abraham fell on his face; he is brought to nothing. But he may enjoy God, with no fear and no holding back. God has made Himself known to him, and the result of this is communion... Then in the next chapter do we find him talking about himself? No! he is pleading for others. He has come into the tone of God's heart. He is not struggling with God for a blessing for himself, as Jacob did. Because he knows what he has been given, he is able to intercede.
That turn becomes a test anyone can apply.
How far can you intercede for others? I find this often a test to my own soul. God wants us to live knowing Him and enjoying Him. He wants us to live in a spirit of intercession. If I am in the presence of God, I shall fall on my face and be nothing — God is everything.
- Revelation. God is not answering a plea here. He shows who He is, and that is what brings Abram down.
- Lowliness. The face in the dust is lowliness, not terror. Commentators differ here: another reading sees a soul in darkness, silent and amazed.
- Communion. Asking God for things is not yet fellowship with Him. God talking with a man is.
- Covenant. What God then speaks is all gift: His covenant, a new name, many nations. Abram asked for none of it and sought no token.
- Intercession. The man emptied of himself is free to plead for others. How far you can intercede shows how far you have been in that presence.
It is I behold, my covenant is with thee, and thou shalt be a father of a multitude of nations.
Abram is ninety-nine, his body past hope of children, and he has just tried to make God's promise good by his own effort. Now God speaks, and the first thing He says about the covenant is not what Abram must do but where it rests — with Him.
God calls it "my covenant," and that "my" sets the tone for the whole chapter. One writer counts how often God takes the weight of the promise on Himself:
You will have noticed that at least ten times in this chapter God says, "I will." That stands in sharp contrast to the "you shall" repeated in the law. It is beautiful to see how God commits Himself to work out all He has set His heart on. He says, "I will set my covenant between Me and you." So He sets up a definite bond between Himself and Abram, in order to carry out His purpose.
The list of what God takes on is long, and it comes with no conditions attached:
God reveals Himself — He appeared to him — as the Almighty God. A covenant between God and him, to multiply him... father of many nations — and kings — a God to him and his seed after him — the land and their God. All this for ever, without condition, and his name changed for the covenant.
The timing of this word matters. God waits until every natural possibility has run out:
Chapter 16 is a kind of side note. Abram has a promise, and now tries to make it good on his own, apart from God. But once Abram is set aside — his body now dead at ninety-nine years old — God reveals Himself. He says: I am going to give you many descendants, and you must circumcise them, and so on. That is, now that you are viewed as dead, I can do something with you.
Up to this point God had promised Abram a land and a line of descendants. A "multitude of nations" — "many nations" in older translations — opens something far larger:
Now we have the wide extent of the earthly purposes of God beginning to unfold before us, even as far as the whole earth, and Abram was concerned in all... Not a word of this had been breathed before. That he should have a line to succeed him, one that should inherit the land and have it for ever: such was the utmost already granted... But here all is of another order and measure — beneficence according to the grace and purposes of God.
God does more than announce the promise. He stamps it on the man's own name:
So Abram, "great father," becomes Abraham, "father of a multitude." The change comes by adding a single letter in the Hebrew, "he," the fifth letter of the Hebrew alphabet. Number five speaks, as we know, of God with man. How truly does God with man change the lonely individual into the father of a multitude.
From that day he carries a name for something that had not yet happened:
To confirm this covenant God changed Abram's name to Abraham, meaning "Father of a multitude." From this point on Scripture uses the new name, even though the promise wrapped up in that name had not yet come true. So God pledged Himself to bring it to pass in His own way.
The promise came by faith and not by law, and that makes the door it opens wide:
As faith is opposed to works, so grace is opposed to law. The grace of God who gave the promise opens the door of faith — the only door, and a wide one — to Gentiles no less than to Jews... grace goes out to the Gentile no less than to the Jew, who could hardly limit Abraham's fatherhood of "many nations" to his own people.
One writer follows the promise on to Christ:
Now this promise was to Abraham's Seed, that is, to Christ, as we learn from the letter to the Galatians. Is not the Lord Jesus Christ Himself also the Father of the many nations? A time is coming when He will be shown in this character, and will gather His households around Him like flocks of sheep.
- Source. God calls it "my covenant" — His own undertaking. In this chapter He says "I will" at least ten times, against the law's "you shall."
- Condition. God gives the blessings "for ever, without condition"; nothing in them waits on Abram's strength.
- Timing. God speaks only once Abram is "viewed as dead" at ninety-nine, so that the fruitfulness belongs to God alone.
- Name. A single Hebrew letter turns "great father" into "father of a multitude" — a name given before any child arrived, because God had pledged Himself to make it true.
- Reach. A "multitude of nations" cannot shrink to one people. The door swings open to Gentile as well as Jew, and the promise points on to Christ, the Seed.
And thy name shall no more be called Abram, but thy name shall be Abraham; for a father of a multitude of nations have I made thee.
Abram is ninety-nine and still has no child by Sarai. God speaks to him and gives him a name that describes a family he does not yet have. That change raises three questions. Why does God take the right to rename a man? Why now? And how far does "a multitude of nations" reach?
The whole change is one letter in Hebrew:
So Abram, "great father," becomes Abraham, "father of a multitude." The change comes from adding one letter in Hebrew: "he," the fifth letter of the Hebrew alphabet. The number five speaks, as we know, of God with man. How truly does God with man change the lonely individual into the father of a multitude.
The old name described the man; the new one describes the family growing out of him.
The name Abram means "great, or high, father," showing what he himself was as head of the family of faith. But Abraham points us to the greatness of the family he heads. The name means "father of a multitude" — not only of people, but of nations. In giving this name God is showing the vast results of the principle of faith and of promise. Nothing is so fruitful as faith. It is "exceedingly fruitful." It is the only principle that brings forth anything for God, because it counts on His power alone.
God Himself does the naming here.
There is another element here, a common one in Scripture: God's giving a name to Abram and to Sarai also. It signifies the title of direct authority, and entering into relationship on this ground. So Adam, so Pharaoh, so Nebuchadnezzar. Here, God having revealed His own name, gives one to Abram in connection with Himself. From then on He is the God of Abraham, revealing Abraham's place.
Other renamings in the Bible follow the same rule.
The changing of a name always implied that the one whose name was changed was subject to the one who changed it (see Gen. 17:5-15; Gen. 32:28; Gen. 35:10; Gen. 41:45; Dan. 1:7; Dan. 5:12).
The new name arrives at the exact point where Abram can do nothing about it.
Chapter 16 is a kind of parenthesis. Abram has a promise, and now tries to make it come true without God. But then Abram is set aside. His body is dead at ninety-nine years old. God reveals Himself and says: I am going to give you many descendants, and you must circumcise them, and so on. That is, now that you are viewed as dead, I can do something with you.
God gave the name before there was any child to show for it.
Abram then receives the promise of descendants. God changes his name to Abraham — "father of a great multitude" — and as yet he had no children at all! But God's promise is better than anyone else's performance. The promise has two sides. His children were to be like the stars — the heavenly family, those who inherit his faith, as Rom. 4:16 shows, and that includes every believer. And they were to be like the sand on the sea shore — the earthly descendants.
This promise goes far beyond anything Abram had heard before.
Now the wide extent of God's purposes for the earth begins to unfold before us. It reaches as far as the whole earth, and Abram had a part in all of it… No word of this had been spoken before. Until now God had granted only this much: a line to succeed him, one that would inherit the land and have it for ever.
Paul reaches back to this sentence. He uses it to explain how people outside Israel come into the blessing.
Verse 16 states the result for Gentiles who believe the gospel. The promise is of faith, so that it might be by grace. In that way it stands sure to all the seed of Abraham to whom God gave the promise. It is sure not only to the seed under the law, but to all who had the faith of Abraham. He is the father of us all before God, as it is written: "I have made you the father of a multitude of nations."
- Named by God. Giving a name is a title of authority and of relationship; the one renamed belongs to the One who renamed him.
- Named when dead. Abram's own strength was gone first. Then came the promise of a multitude — "now that you are viewed as dead, I can do something with you."
- Named for a family. Abram spoke of the man. Abraham speaks of the multitude he heads. Faith bears fruit because it counts on God's power alone.
- Named before proof. He carried the name "father of a multitude" while childless. God's promise is better than anyone else's performance.
- Named for the nations. Paul quotes this verse to show the promise reaching every believer — stars in heaven, sand on the shore, Abraham "the father of us all."
And I will make thee exceedingly fruitful, and I will make nations of thee, and kings shall come out of thee.
God speaks to a man of ninety-nine whose only son was born to a slave woman, and promises him nations and kings. How could that come true, and who are these nations and royal lines?
God has just given him a new name. One writer sets the two names side by side and shows how unlikely the promise looked:
His name is therefore changed from Abram to Abraham. The first means "great father," the second "father of a multitude." God adds, "I will make you exceedingly fruitful." At the time this seemed most unlikely. Abraham was 99 years old, and his only possible means of further fruit was Ishmael, the son of a slave woman. But God had other things in mind.
The change of name is not decoration. It shifts attention from the man to the family he heads:
The name Abram means "great, or high, father." It shows what he was in himself, as head of the family of faith. But Abraham points us to the greatness of the family he heads, for it means "father of a multitude" — not only of people, but of nations. In giving this name God is showing the vast results of the principle of faith and of promise. Nothing is so fruitful as the principle of faith. It is "exceedingly fruitful," because it is the only principle that brings forth anything for God, since it counts on His power alone.
The chapter opens with God naming Himself as the Almighty. That name is what makes verse 6 believable:
Surely these are promises which almighty grace alone could utter, almighty power alone fulfil.
God also chose His moment. He waited until Abraham could contribute nothing:
But "when he was about a hundred years old," and Abraham's body "was now dead," God can come in again. He makes a simple, grand announcement that Abraham's faith had never yet grasped: "I am the Almighty God, walk before me, and be blameless." For a dead Abraham, an Almighty God alone would do. Abraham could not help God to raise the dead.
Earlier promises spoke of one line and one land. Verse 6 opens something far bigger, and Abraham never asked for it:
Abram was to have a child and be the father "of many nations." So the circle is clearly made far wider, and all in pure grace. Abram has not asked a word, and he does not seek any pledge or token.
The same writer notes that the promise grows in time as well as in reach:
So Abraham's hopes are not only opened up into a far greater sphere. The time is also unlimited.
The promise of kings was not a figure of speech. One writer points to a scene centuries later, on the hill where Abraham and his son had stood:
Centuries have passed. Look at the splendid scene on that lonely hill in the land of Moriah, where Abraham and his son once stood. "Kings shall come from you," God said to Abraham — and now Solomon, his direct descendant, is dedicating a glorious temple.
Abraham's fatherhood reaches further than his own family. One writer sets him beside Adam, the first man:
Abraham stands as the Adam of blessing to those who come after him, just as Adam stood as the head of responsibility. Abraham is the father of us all before God. Adam never was that. Adam was the father of us all driven out from God. Of course, with Abraham this is now spiritual and in Christ.
The promises to Abraham are not all of one kind. One writer separates two of them:
In one of the promises to Abraham, the seed named is Christ Himself. In the other it is a countless multitude. To this countless seed God promised permanent possession of a definite area of land, together with national supremacy in the earth.
- Dead first. God waited until Abraham's body was past hope, so that human strength could take no credit for the promise.
- Named next. "Great father" became "father of a multitude" — the new name points away from the man and toward the family God would build.
- Fruitful then. Faith counts on God's power alone, and that is the one principle Scripture calls exceedingly fruitful.
- Widened after. One land and one line grew into nations and kings, unasked for, all of grace, and unlimited in time.
- Reaching now. Kings came from him in history. Through Christ he is father of all who believe. And the land promised to his countless seed stays permanently theirs.
And I will establish my covenant between me and thee, and thy seed after thee in their generations, for an everlasting covenant, to be a God to thee, and to thy seed after thee.
God appears to Abram as the Almighty and sets out the terms of His covenant. It runs on through the generations, and it never ends. Three questions follow. Who is the "offspring"? What does it mean for God to be God to someone? And does any of it depend on Abraham?
The horizon opens wide here. And the word "everlasting" fixes how long it all lasts.
A far greater sphere now opens out for the hopes of Abraham. And the time is unlimited too. It is an "everlasting covenant, to be God to you and to your offspring after you." God had not forgotten the lesser gift while greater things were in view — "all the land of Canaan, for an everlasting possession, and I will be their God."
Notice which word never appears in this chapter. God binds Himself; Abraham is not asked to guarantee anything.
"I will" is the phrase that marks this covenant. It begins with "I will make My covenant" and ends with "I will be their God." The little word "if" stands out only by being missing, for it was a covenant with no condition on Abram's part. He had tried to get offspring by natural means through Hagar. But God meant to multiply him greatly, to make him a father of many nations, to secure the land of promise for his offspring, and to be their God in a special way.
Two things move together in this chapter: a widening circle, and a closer tie.
There were two things in the way in which God revealed Himself in chapter 17. First, grace spreads out to the Gentiles: "You shall be the father of a multitude of nations." For if He is the Almighty God, He could not be shut up, if we may say so, in Israel. The second thing is, I will be God "to you and to your offspring after you." That is, closer communion, a direct relationship with God Himself.
When God attaches His name to a man's name, that title carries weight, and it commits Him.
When God is called the God of someone, it shows a close tie between that person and God, whose name is now joined to his own. It shows a relationship based on what God is to the one whose name He has taken. And it implies a purpose to bless and honour in keeping with that relationship. This purpose must stand. God cannot be unfaithful.
"Your offspring after you" is not one simple idea. The promise of countless descendants stands apart from the promise about one Seed.
The promises of a very large offspring are separate... The reasoning in Galatians is that Christ alone is the seed meant in chapter 22, when it speaks of the nations of the world. And if we are in Christ, we are then the offspring of Abraham.
Israel later took the land under a different covenant, one that hung on their obedience. Did that settle the promise made to Abraham?
When the Israelites entered the land, it was not on the ground of this covenant, but of another covenant. Under that one, their hold on the land no longer rested on God's unconditional promise. It hung on their own obedience. This was not a fulfilment of God's covenant with Abraham. As we shall see, God does not treat it as one. He keeps His covenant with the fathers carefully in reserve, even while He clearly foretells that the nation will fail and be scattered under the later covenant made at Mount Sinai.
Long after Abraham died, God still called Himself the God of Abraham. That title says something about Abraham himself.
If Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob had ceased to exist, could God still have taken their names to describe Himself to Israel? He might have said, I am He who was with Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, when they existed... He is not the God of the dead, but of the living. But this truth went further. Abraham was dead: his soul and body were separated. He was living for God, yet he was not what God meant him to be as his God... He was to be complete, and so raised from the dead. God's name showed His relationship with those who were gone for the moment. That proved the resurrection.
- Everlasting — no time limit, and no narrow border. The circle widens to many nations, and the term runs on for ever.
- Unconditional — the chapter is full of "I will" and holds no "if". What God promises rests on His faithfulness, not on Abraham's record.
- God Himself — the heart of the promise is a relationship: God ties His own name to a man, and that tie commits Him to bless.
- Offspring — the promise reaches countless descendants, and, as Galatians shows, one Seed, Christ. Those in Christ count as Abraham's offspring.
- Unbreakable — the conditional covenant at Sinai never cancelled this one. Death cannot cancel it either, for God is not the God of the dead.
And I give to thee, and to thy seed after thee, the land of thy sojourning, all the land of Canaan, for an everlasting possession; and I will be a God to them.
Genesis 17 is a chain of promises to Abraham, and verse 8 hands him a whole country. He owned no part of it. The verse joins two gifts: a land held for ever, and God Himself as their God.
The promises of this chapter pile one on another. None of them asks Abraham for anything first. One writer counts how often God binds Himself:
These, then, are some of the blessings of the everlasting covenant that God makes with Abraham. The covenant shows God's settled purpose to bless. Seven times in this message God says, "I will." Now Abraham learns that God looks for an answer in the believer's life to His own grace. Abraham is to walk before God and be perfect.
The walk God asks for comes after the gift; it does not buy it. Some readers treat the spiritual promises as firm and the earthly ones as negotiable. One writer answers that the two stand or fall together:
Here are "the promises made to the fathers," and to Israel, "beloved for the fathers' sakes." God made them to Abraham without any condition, whether they are spiritual or earthly. If you say that the spiritual promises are without condition, by the same reasoning the temporal ones are. God's promise to Abraham, "To you will I give this land," is as certain as the promises He has made in favour of us Gentiles.
The verse names the land by the one thing Abraham was in it — a stranger. He never took possession. When his wife died, he buried her in that land, and commentators read the burial as an act of faith in this promise:
God had revealed Himself to Abraham as the Almighty, and as the God of resurrection. He had assured him that the land where he was a stranger — all the land of Canaan — was his for an everlasting possession. All was his by promise, though not yet in possession. In the faith of God's promise he was careful to lay the body of Sarah to rest in the Promised Land.
Staying a stranger was not a delay in the blessing. It was the setting for it, and God gave him a new name to mark the covenant:
All this for ever, without condition, and his name changed for the covenant. Here, being a pilgrim, and continuing so, God is not ashamed to be called, and to lay the basis of being called, his God.
Israel later lived in Canaan. Israel also lost it. One writer says that spell in the land cannot be what "everlasting" meant:
Finally, God gave the land to the seed of Abraham "for ever," or as it is put elsewhere, "for an everlasting possession." Israel's possession of Canaan was certainly not like that. But has the Lord forgotten His promise? Or are we to assume that the promise was not meant for Israel? Far from it. … "He has remembered His covenant for ever, the word which He commanded to a thousand generations; the covenant He made with Abraham" (Ps. 105:8-11). So Israel's possession, held on terms and for a time, is not the fulfilment of the covenant with the fathers.
The promise names Abraham himself, not only his descendants. He died owning none of it, so the promise must reach past his death:
The promise of God to Abraham could not be fulfilled if there were no first resurrection. Stephen tells us Abraham was a stranger, with no inheritance in it — not so much as to set his foot on. Suppose Abraham were not raised from among the dead until the heavens and the earth flee away, and he had to stand before the great white throne. Then God would have broken His word to Abraham, and that is impossible.
The verse does not end with land. It ends with a relationship, and one writer calls that the greater gift:
The sphere now opened out for Abraham's hopes is far greater, and the time also is unlimited. It is an "everlasting covenant, to be a God to you and to your seed after you." … God had not forgotten the lesser gift in presence of greater things — "all the land of Canaan, for an everlasting possession, and I will be their God."
- Gift, not deal. Seven times God says "I will" in this chapter; nothing in verse 8 waits on Abraham's performance.
- Gift held by faith. The verse names the land by his own status in it — a stranger. It was all his by promise while none of it was his in fact.
- Gift not yet spent. Israel held Canaan on terms and lost it. So the everlasting possession still lies ahead.
- Gift beyond the grave. Abraham died without a foot of it. So he must be raised from the dead to receive it himself.
- Gift behind every gift. The land is the lesser half of the verse; the greater is God's own word that He will be their God.
And God said to Abraham, And [as for] thee, thou shalt keep my covenant, thou and thy seed after thee in their generations.
God has just laid out His side of the agreement — a new name, nations, kings, land, and Himself as their God — and then, at verse 9, He turns to Abraham. What can it mean for a man to keep a covenant that God alone guarantees, and why is the answer a cut made in human flesh?
The order matters. God gives the sign only after He has put the promise beyond dispute.
The promise to Abraham that he should be heir of the world was not by law, and so it was not conditional on his obedience to law. It came instead by the righteousness of faith. That is, it rested on righteousness already fully settled, not on righteousness that future works still had to build. So the promise could not be challenged; there was no possibility of it failing. Genesis 17:1-8 gives us the promise in the clearest terms. With God it is a settled matter, needing only time to be fulfilled. Only after this (in verses 9-14) do we see God giving Abraham the sign of circumcision.
The command is real. But it asks for a cutting off, not an achievement.
God's side of the covenant cannot be broken. But Abraham is told that he and his descendants are to keep His covenant (v. 9). This covenant is completely different from the covenant of law, which required obedience to all the commandments. God gave this covenant to Abraham long before the law. It clearly assumes that man is completely unable to keep the laws of Moses. Why? Because it required that every male of Abraham's offspring be circumcised... Man in the flesh can deserve nothing but judgment: only when the flesh is cut off can the promise of God become effective for anyone. So the question is not man's doing, but man's dying — man reduced to complete helplessness in doing anything. Then everything is plainly God's sovereign working in grace.
Circumcision later became part of the law of Moses, so verse 9 can look like law arriving early.
Let no one suppose that circumcision is necessarily a legal thing. In the setting where it is placed here it goes together with grace — the sign that the flesh is put to death. The law did take it in when that system came later. But in itself, as our Lord Himself shows, it came not from Moses but from the fathers — from Abraham.
Two chapters earlier Abraham asked for a sign, and God gave him slain animals to look at. Here he asks for nothing, and the mark goes on his own body.
Abraham no longer asks for a sign by which he may know that he is to inherit the land. Not a word of that kind falls from him. Instead God speaks of the seal of circumcision. It is not now something outside him, as we saw in the dead animals of chapter 15. Now the word is: "you shall keep my covenant... every male among you shall be circumcised." What does it mean? The flesh put to death before God. The sentence of death laid on man in His sight — on Abraham himself as well as on his offspring afterwards.
The duty ran down the generations and across the whole household.
Here, note, it was historically a covenant to keep a covenant in the flesh. Israel had to keep it and carry it out, and anyone who did not was to be cut off. It was imposed; the bought servant had to undergo it — it was his duty... still the word is, "You shall keep," Genesis 17:9. Now in Christianity, the seal of faith is a gift. It is the Holy Spirit, and it is power: "when you believed, you were sealed with the promised Holy Spirit" — the guarantee of the inheritance.
The same mark later decided who could eat the Passover.
No one could have a place at the Passover table unless they had been circumcised. Only in this way did they come within the terms of the covenant which God had made with Abraham (see Gen. 17:9-14). On that ground He was now bringing them out of Egypt and taking them to Himself for a people.
The same order holds for Christians: blessing first, then a walk that matches.
As Christians we are not asked to walk well in order to get the blessing, and Abraham was not asked that either. We are asked to walk in a way that suits God because we are blessed. To walk like this and be perfect before God calls for dependence on God and His Almighty power. But this involves the entire refusal of the flesh. For this purpose circumcision came in, as a sign that the flesh must be put to death if the walk is to be perfect before God.
- Promise — God settles everything in verses 1-8 before He asks anything in verse 9. The covenant cannot fail; it only needs time.
- Sign — what Abraham must keep is not a list of achievements. It is a mark of death on the flesh, so man's doing gives way to God's working.
- Self — the animals of chapter 15 lay outside Abraham. This sign is in his own body: the sentence of death on him.
- Household — the covenant reached sons and bought servants alike, and later decided who could eat the Passover.
- Walk — Christians do not earn the blessing. They live to suit God because they are already blessed, with no trust in the flesh.
This is my covenant which ye shall keep, between me and you and thy seed after thee -- that every male among you be circumcised.
God speaks this word to a man of ninety‑nine who had already tried to get a son his own way. The command sounds strange today — a mark cut into the body of every male in the household — so what is it for, and what does it mean now?
The timing matters, and so does what came just before it.
The first mention of circumcision in the Bible is in Genesis 17:10-14. God was silent for thirteen years. Then He breaks in and makes a covenant with Abram, when His servant is ninety-nine years old. Thirteen years earlier Abram had listened to Sarai his wife, and they tried to have a child through Hagar the slave woman. That led to the birth of Ishmael, with all the disaster that followed. It was offspring according to the flesh, not according to promise.
Earlier, God's sign to Abraham lay in dead animals. Now the sign is cut into the man himself.
Abraham no longer asks for a sign to show him that he will inherit the land. Not a word of the kind is said. Instead God speaks of the seal of circumcision. It is not now something outside him, as we saw in the dead animals of chapter 15, but "every male among you shall be circumcised." What does it mean? Flesh put to death before God, the sentence of death placed on man in His sight — in Abram's own person and in his offspring after him. Circumcision here is not introduced in a legal way. It is really the answer in man to the grace of God. Every child of Abraham takes the place of death by this sign, which pictures our death with Christ.
The sign came after faith, not before it.
Circumcision was the mark of being a Jew, the sign of God's covenant with His earthly people Israel (Gen. 17:10). But when was Abraham counted righteous? Before he was circumcised at all. So righteousness by faith was never limited to Israel alone. It is for all who believe, though they are not circumcised. To a Jew who gloried in circumcision as the distinguishing mark of God's people, this argument is unanswerable: when Abraham was counted righteous, he was uncircumcised.
The words "every male among you" swept in the whole household, whatever a man's origin.
The covenant of circumcision is now introduced. Every member of the household of faith must bear in his body the seal of that covenant. There must be no exception. "Both he who is born in your house and he who is bought with your money shall surely be circumcised. So shall My covenant be in your flesh an everlasting covenant."
The penalty for refusing it was severe.
If an Israelite was not circumcised he was to be cut off from his own nation. Why? Because he had broken God's covenant. He had no part in the blessing God had promised. God's promise is not given to man as alive in the flesh, but to those in whom the flesh stands under the sentence of death. The sign of circumcision was necessary for Israel. Today we should learn the spiritual reality of it, as seen in Philippians 3:3. Yet even in Christianity the outward sign of baptism has its serious place.
The appointed day carries its own weight.
It becomes clear that circumcision means the flesh must be kept in the place of death. The flesh can add nothing to the doing of God's will. "He who is eight days old" was to be circumcised, and the eighth day points to a completely new start. Only a new life within can produce anything for the pleasure of God.
Christians are not asked to keep the rite. What it stood for still holds.
If God covenants to bless by His Almighty power, then on our side there must be no confidence in the flesh and no allowance of its activity. For the believer today, circumcision is "of the heart, by the Spirit, not by the letter. His praise is not from man but from God" (Rom. 2:29). Refusing the flesh is not merely an outward neglect of the body that the world can see. It means refusing the flesh in all its inward workings in the heart — its self-confidence, self-righteousness, vanity and lusts — as something the cross has condemned (Col. 2:11).
- Flesh fails. Ishmael came from human arrangement. God waits thirteen years, then speaks when Abraham is ninety-nine and man can produce nothing.
- Flesh sentenced. The sign is no longer outside Abraham but cut into his own body — the sentence of death on man in God's sight.
- Flesh not trusted. Abraham was counted righteous before he was circumcised. The sign sealed a righteousness faith already had, and that blessing reaches people without the mark.
- Flesh universal. No one in the household was exempt, born there or bought. To refuse the sign was to break the covenant and be cut off.
- Flesh replaced. The eighth day points to a completely new start. For believers the reality is inward: refusing self-confidence and self-righteousness, which the cross has condemned.
And ye shall circumcise the flesh of your foreskin; and [that] shall be a sign of the covenant between me and you.
God gives this command to Abraham after a long wait, when his own attempt to secure the promised family had already failed. The mark is not a price for the promise but the sign of an agreement God had already made — so why did God set that sign in the flesh?
God did not negotiate this agreement. One reference work sets it beside God's promise to Noah, where the rainbow was the token:
The covenants made by God are of a different order. He makes His covenants from Himself, without consulting man. With Noah God made a covenant that He would not again destroy the world by a flood. As a token of that covenant, He set the rainbow in the cloud (Gen. 9:8-17). A covenant like this takes the form of an unconditional promise. Such was God's covenant with Abraham... He also gave him the covenant of circumcision (Gen. 17:10-14; Acts 7:8).
The law of Moses later took up this rite, so it is easy to read it as pure law-keeping. One commentator answers that:
No one should think circumcision must be a legal thing. In the setting it is put in here it goes together with grace — the sign that the flesh is put to death. The law did take it up when that system was later imposed. But in itself, as our Lord Himself shows, it was not of Moses, but of the fathers... It means flesh judged, and that is the true spiritual meaning of what God then instituted.
So why a mark in the body, and not another sign in the sky? The mark speaks about the flesh it is cut into:
What does the sign mean? Clearly, it is a symbolic witness that faith, not flesh, is the principle of relationship with God. In giving Abraham circumcision, God says, "You must carry in your body the sign that your flesh is profitless. You must have in yourself the sign that the sentence of judgment is on the flesh. You must accept a mark that means this: faith is the principle on which you are in relationship with Me."
The command came when Abraham had nothing left to give. The long wait was part of the lesson:
The flesh had already failed him, yet he later took the slave woman to himself, and had a child who was only the "wild man," not the child of promise. Nature was still strong in Abraham, so God went on for fourteen years as if the promise slept in His own mind — unfulfilled. But "when he was about a hundred years old," and Abraham's body "was now dead," God could come in again... "I am the Almighty God, walk before Me, and be perfect." For a dead Abraham an Almighty God alone would do, for Abraham could not help God to raise the dead. There He gives him the covenant of circumcision.
Circumcision did not make Abraham righteous. It stamped what was already true:
Romans 4 teaches that circumcision was "a seal of the righteousness of faith." "Abraham believed God, and it was counted to him for righteousness." God counted him righteous, and then set His "seal" upon him.
The sign also marked out a people. It showed that Israel belonged to God:
Circumcision is a sign in God's people that they are indeed His, set apart to Himself according to His purpose. To the father of the faithful it was a token of the covenant God had made with him (Gen. 17:11)... It showed that God had set Israel apart to Himself from the nations around them.
How much did Abraham understand? Commentators differ. One writer holds that the full meaning waited for Christ:
As far as Abraham was concerned, circumcision was just a rite to keep. Nothing shows that anyone taught him its spiritual meaning... It looks as if its full meaning did not come to light until "the circumcision of Christ" (Col. 2:11) had actually taken place.
The reality the sign pointed to is a cutting off that no surgeon performs:
Circumcision was God's token of the covenant with the Jews, and of the putting off of the flesh, which was required to be part of God's people. It had its reality in Him... This is the true circumcision of Christ made without hands. Circumcision made by hands was only the sign of this putting off of the body of the flesh.
- Covenant — God made this agreement alone, without consulting Abraham. The sign in the flesh points to a promise, not a bargain.
- Sign — the mark says the flesh is profitless and under sentence. Faith, not flesh, is the basis of relationship with God.
- Timing — God gave it when Abraham's body was as good as dead, so the Almighty alone would keep the promise.
- Seal — faith came first. Circumcision only stamped God's seal on a righteousness Abraham already had.
- Reality — the outward rite pointed to "the circumcision of Christ": a putting off of the flesh made without hands.
And at eight days old shall every male in your generations be circumcised among you -- he who is born in the house, and he who is bought with money, any stranger who is not of thy seed.
The command falls on a baby eight days old. It also reaches past family lines to every male in the household, whether born there or bought from a foreigner. Why mark a child too young to understand it? And why mark people outside Abraham's own family?
God speaks after a long gap. Abraham had already tried to secure a son his own way:
The first mention of circumcision in the Bible is in Genesis 17:10-14. After a silence of thirteen years God breaks in and makes a covenant with Abram when His servant is ninety-nine years old. Thirteen years earlier Abram had listened to Sarai his wife, and tried to produce a seed through Hagar the slave. This action resulted in the birth of Ishmael with all its later disaster. It was a seed according to the flesh, not according to promise.
The rite was not attached to Ishmael's birth but to the son yet to come.
Circumcision was instituted, not when Ishmael was born, but in view of Isaac, the seal of the covenant. The principle was God's righteousness. Man was judged as evil and the flesh put to death.
Circumcision cuts away flesh. Commentators read that cut as God's verdict on human nature:
Circumcision means that the flesh must be kept in the place of death. The flesh can contribute nothing towards carrying out the will of God. Only a new life within can produce anything for the pleasure of God.
The same logic explains what happened to an Israelite who refused the sign:
If an Israelite was not circumcised, he was to be cut off from his own nation. Why? Because he had broken God's covenant. He had no part in the blessing God had promised. God does not give His promise to man as alive in the flesh. He gives it to those in whom the flesh is judged as under sentence of death.
The number is not arbitrary. Seven days close a week; the eighth opens a new one.
EIGHT. A new start outside of, but connected with, the order of creation: so, in resurrection. Circumcision was on the eighth day, the start of a new fellowship. Eight people were saved in the ark, to begin a new world.
For the child, the day points forward to what he will inherit:
"Eight days old" shows what a fair inheritance we are destined for. The eighth day speaks to us of new creation, now that the first week of the old one has run out. Only the power of that knowledge can keep practical circumcision going.
A baby of eight days understands nothing of what is done to him. That does not weaken the sign:
Circumcision took place as early as eight days old. At that age the child could not understand anything about it. Its meaning stays the same whether people understand it or not. The same is true of baptism, which also teaches death to the flesh.
The verse names two groups beyond Abraham's own children. Their numbers were large:
Abraham had 318 servants born in his house. Jacob had a still larger number. And they had been received into the covenant, though they were not natural descendants... There may have been thousands of such servants.
The sign was permanent. It even gave outsiders a seat at Israel's redemption meal:
The token of the covenant was to be in his flesh for an everlasting covenant, the sign of the lasting terms on which his descendants stood with God. How striking this is! Under the law the whole nation in the flesh had to carry the sign of circumcision. That sign was a seal of the righteousness Abraham had by faith while he was still uncircumcised. Yet at any time, though the dividing wall still stood, any Gentile could freely take up the sign of that same righteousness. With his males circumcised, he could sit down to the Passover, the feast of redemption!
The outward mark was never meant to stand alone. In Israel it soon did:
The nation began to carry this out very carefully, but its true meaning was soon lost. It became just an outward rite with very little inward reality. It had no effect at all on how people lived. God never intended an outward rite to be kept without inward reality. That gives Him no pleasure.
- Covenant — the sign came after thirteen silent years. It pointed forward to Isaac, not back to Ishmael. It belongs to promise, not to human arrangement.
- Cutting — the cut marks the flesh as judged, under sentence of death. God's promise rests on nothing a person can produce.
- Eighth day — the day after the week ends stands for a new start and resurrection. The baby carries the mark of an inheritance long before he can understand it.
- Household — servants born in the house or bought with money entered the covenant too, though they were not natural descendants. Even a Gentile could take the sign and eat the Passover.
- Reality — a rite kept without inward truth gives God no pleasure. The mark was always meant to show in the way a person lives.
He who is born in thy house, and he who is bought with thy money, must be circumcised; and my covenant shall be in your flesh for an everlasting covenant.
Genesis 17 is full of God's promises: again and again He says "I will." Then comes a sign in the flesh, and verse 13 puts it on every male in Abraham's house — sons and servants alike.
Abraham is ninety-nine here. One writer weighs what Abraham can still do at that age, and how often God says "I will" in this chapter.
The faith of Abram was tested further at this point. If his patience gave way at 86 years old, what now? He is now 99 years old. The whole matter has become impossible as far as man and the flesh are concerned. The power of God must come in if the promise is to be fulfilled. Yet notice how many times "I will" appears in Genesis 17. This is the statement of an unconditional covenant. All of it rests on God's unchangeable will and purpose.
The verse says the covenant will be "in your flesh." One writer explains what a mark in the flesh gives up.
Circumcision was the sign of this very covenant (see Gen. 17). It expressed the giving up of all confidence in the flesh. That giving up leaves a person to know, with a dead Abraham, the power of the Almighty. God insists that the token of the covenant must be in the flesh of all His people.
Later generations turned the mark into a matter of pride, which is the reverse of its meaning.
It is a sign that the flesh can have no recognition with God, and that the sentence of death must be passed on it. Faith in this way confessed that the flesh is utterly worthless, and took advantage of what God's grace provided… It is a solemn thing that such an ordinance should become a mere matter of boasting in the flesh. But that is what happened in Israel. The flesh boasted and took pride in the distinction. If they had understood its meaning, they would have seen that through it God was pouring contempt on the flesh and all its efforts.
Who counted as Abraham's household? One writer draws the line, and marks the first time Scripture ties a household to its head.
The sign was circumcision, and Abraham, his descendants and all his household were to keep it. That last term takes in everyone born in his house, and the slaves he bought. A servant who was only hired for a time was clearly left out. Here for the first time in Scripture we find a household recognised as identified with the man who is its head.
No one inside that circle could opt out.
The covenant of circumcision is now introduced. Every member of the household of faith must carry in his body the seal of that covenant. There must be no exception.
The mark did not create Abraham's standing with God; it stamped a standing he already had.
But what does the sign mean? Plainly, it is a symbolic witness that faith, not flesh, is the principle of relationship with God. In giving Abraham circumcision God says, "You must carry in your body the sign that your flesh is worthless. You must have in yourself the sign that the sentence of judgment is on the flesh. You must accept a mark which means that faith is the principle on which you stand in relationship with Me." But if circumcision is the sign of a covenant of grace, of relationship with God on the principle of faith, then it is a seal on the righteousness of faith. That righteousness was already Abraham's before he was circumcised.
The word "everlasting" reached the whole generation of Israel. One writer says what has since taken its place.
Circumcision is a sign in God's people that they truly belong to Him, set apart to Himself according to His purpose. To the father of the faithful it was a token of the covenant God had made with him (Gen. 17:11). The Lord's words, "So shall my covenant be in your flesh an everlasting covenant" (v. 13), took in the whole generation of His people of old. Circumcision showed that Israel were separated to Himself from the nations around them. The Christian is separated to God in Christ, who is risen from the dead and who lives in heaven, not on earth. The circumcision made without hands, the circumcision "of the heart, by the Spirit, not by the letter" (Rom. 2:29), has now taken the place of the outward rite.
- Source. The covenant runs on God's repeated "I will." At ninety-nine, Abraham could add nothing to it.
- Sign. God set the token in the flesh, because the flesh lies under a sentence of death and can claim no recognition from Him.
- Seal. The mark sealed a righteousness Abraham already had by faith. It never produced the blessing; it certified it.
- Scope. Born in the house or bought with money, the whole household stands with its head, and no male is left out.
- Succession. The outward rite has given way to the circumcision made without hands — a matter of the heart, by the Spirit.
And the uncircumcised male who hath not been circumcised in the flesh of his foreskin, that soul shall be cut off from his peoples he hath broken my covenant.
God has just given Abraham circumcision as the sign of the covenant, and here He sets a penalty for refusing it. Why should a mark in the body carry so much weight?
The verse does not say the uncircumcised man is careless; it says he has broken the covenant. One writer explains the loss in terms of what the sign stood for.
If an Israelite was not circumcised he was to be cut off from his own nation. Why? Because he had broken God's covenant. He had no part in the blessing God had promised. God does not give His promise to man as alive in the flesh. He gives it to those in whom the flesh is judged and under sentence of death.
The mark did not buy Abraham's standing with God. It stamped what God had already reckoned to him.
The covenant of circumcision is now introduced. Every member of the household of faith must bear in his body the seal of that covenant. There must be no exception... Romans 4 teaches us that circumcision was a seal of the righteousness of faith. "Abraham believed God, and it was counted to him as righteousness." God counted him righteous, and then He set His seal on him.
Refusing the mark was refusing a message. The message was about the worth of human nature before God.
But what does the sign signify? Plainly, it is a symbolic witness that faith, not flesh, is the principle of relationship with God. In giving Abraham circumcision God says, "You must carry in your body the sign that your flesh is worth nothing. You must have in yourself the sign that the sentence of judgment is on the flesh. You must accept a mark that says faith is the principle of your relationship with Me."
Commentators differ on what being cut off meant in practice. L. M. Grant speaks of losing a place in the nation; F. B. Hole reads it as death — a penalty that later caught up with Moses himself.
God was acting for Israel under the covenant He had made with Abraham, recorded in Genesis 17:1-14. Circumcision was the token or sign of that covenant. God said plainly that the penalty for ignoring circumcision was death. Moses was chosen to be the chief actor in Israel's deliverance under that covenant — and he had not obeyed the sign! As the responsible person he was subject to the death penalty!
The wilderness years show how far the neglect went, and what it cost Israel in worship.
Nothing was more basic to this covenant than the ordinance of circumcision. The uncircumcised boy was to be cut off from his people (Gen. 17:14), and no such person could eat the passover at all (Ex. 12:48). So either Israel ignored these laws, or they almost entirely dropped the passover toward the end of the wilderness journey. By then no one under forty could have been circumcised at all... How the patience of the Lord with the people is evident!
Israel kept the ceremony and lost the point. The same danger meets anyone who values a religious practice for its own sake.
God set up circumcision with the covenant He made with the fathers, as we read in Genesis 17. The law confirmed it later. The constant tendency was to keep the outward ceremony and overlook its meaning. Israel was to be a people completely cut off for and to God. A circumcised heart would have cut off self-love, as they came to know the love of God.
The demand behind the sign has not changed, though the sign itself has given way to the reality.
If God makes a covenant to bless by His Almighty power, then on our side there must be no confidence in the flesh and no allowance of its activity... Refusing the flesh is not just an outward neglect of the body that the world can notice. It is the refusal of the flesh in all its inward workings in the heart — its self-confidence, self-righteousness, vanity and lusts — as that which has been condemned in the cross (Col. 2:11).
- Sentence. The mark said the flesh is under sentence of death; to refuse it was to claim a place with God on the ground of nature.
- Seal. God counted Abraham righteous first, then sealed him. The sign confirmed that righteousness; it never produced it.
- Scope. Every member of the household bore the seal, with no exception.
- Seriousness. The penalty threatened Moses himself, and it silenced Israel's Passover through the wilderness years.
- Substance. The lasting danger is keeping the form and losing the meaning. God looks for the flesh refused in the heart, not just marked in the body.
And God said to Abraham, [As to] Sarai thy wife, thou shalt not call her name Sarai, but Sarah shall be her name.
God changes one letter of a name here: Sarai becomes Sarah. He speaks it at the very moment He promises a son to a couple far past the age of having children. Why does God rename Abraham's wife at all, and what does the new name say about her place in the promise?
One writer reads the change as a move from a private title to a public one:
God does not only change Abraham's name, however, but tells him that Sarai's name is to be changed to Sarah. Sarai means "my princess," as being Abraham's property, but Sarah means "the princess," giving her the wider honor of being "a mother of nations." She stands for the grace of God. Sarah was to be greatly blessed: even after 90 years of age she would have a son. She would be blessed, and others would be blessed through her. She would be a mother of nations, and kings would even be among her descendants.
Commentators differ on what the older form of the name meant:
The meaning of Sarai is uncertain. Jerome gave 'my princess;' others 'princely;' others 'contentious;' Fürst says, 'Jah is ruler.'
This pattern of renaming runs from Abram and Sarai on into the New Testament:
Changing a name always meant that the person renamed came under the authority of the one who renamed him (see Gen. 17:5-15; Gen. 32:28; Dan. 1:7). At that moment the Lord told Simon, You belong to Me; from this minute you are Mine. It was sovereign love that spoke there; and it was a divine Person who spoke to him.
One writer traces what dropped out of her name and what came in:
And now God declares Himself the God of resurrection. Sarai is to have a son — the first clear announcement of it. Her name is changed too: from Sarai (my princess) she becomes Sarah (the princess). The "i" drops out, and the merely personal part goes with it. That "i" stands for the number 10, the number of responsibility. In its place the "h" comes back, the 5, where the creature stands once more in its weakness before this almighty God. So grace and faith — the ways of God and the felt need of man — fit each other exactly and are joined together. Now grace will be fruitful: Sarah will have a son.
One writer draws out what a promise on this scale asks of the person hearing it:
But when the "Almighty God" goes on to say about Sarai, "As for Sarai your wife, you shall not call her name Sarai, but Sarah shall be her name," he is at once overwhelmed by the promises of such wonderful power and grace to be shown to him. They went beyond anything he had known so far, and "Abraham fell on his face." As we think about a Scripture like this, we can surely say that only faith can rightly receive the "Almighty God." Faith alone gives Him His true and proper place and honours Him as He should be honoured. When the Almighty shows Himself, self must be shut out.
God gave the name to a woman whose body could not deliver it. Abraham's faith rested on God, not on anything left in himself or in Sarah:
Nature told him it was impossible, yet he did not waver in unbelief. He believed in hope — the hope of a son through Sarah, when nature said there was no hope of it. He was strong in faith. His own body was as good as dead, and so was Sarah's womb, but that was no problem to him. To him, the God who had promised was the God of resurrection. As such, He was able to give life to the dead.
The New Testament itself reads Sarah alongside Hagar, the slave woman:
Galatians 4:24-31 draws an allegory from this history. Hagar answers to the covenant of law and to the Jerusalem of that day, which was in slavery. Sarah answers to the covenant of promise and to the Jerusalem above, which is free. The conclusion for the believer is, "So then, brothers, we are not children of the slave but of the free woman." The Christian is not under the law nor in the flesh, but is free, under grace.
- Renamed. Many read "Sarai" as "my princess," a title inside one home. "Sarah" is "the princess," matching her new role as mother of nations.
- Owned. The one who gives the name holds the authority. God's renaming marks His claim on her, as He later claimed Simon.
- Shared. The "i" of "my princess" drops out and the "h" comes in. The personal claim goes, and grace turns fruitful.
- Impossible. God spoke the name over a body as good as dead, so the promise rested on the God of resurrection alone.
- Free. Scripture reads Sarah as the covenant of promise and Hagar as the covenant of law. Believers are children of the free woman, not of the slave.
And I will bless her, and I will give thee a son also of her; and I will bless her, and she shall become nations kings of peoples shall be of her.
God gives Sarai a new name, and in the same breath promises her a son at ninety, then nations, then kings. The verse raises a question that follows Abraham to the end of his life: what can God do when human strength has run out?
The change from Sarai to Sarah is small in sound and large in meaning.
God does not only change Abraham's name. He also tells him that Sarai's name is to be changed to Sarah. Sarai means "my princess," because she was Abraham's own. Sarah means "the princess," and this gives her the wider honor of being "a mother of nations." She stands for the grace of God... Sarah was to be richly blessed. Even after 90 years of age she would have a son. She would be blessed, and others would be blessed through her. She would be a mother of nations, and kings too would be among her descendants.
God changed Abraham's name in the same moment and in the same way.
Notice that Sarai's name changes at the same time, by adding the same letter. It shows the same great truth.
The promise of a child through Sarah comes when childbearing is out of the question.
And now God declares Himself the God of resurrection. Sarai is to have a son — the first positive announcement of it. And her name is changed too: from Sarai (my princess) she becomes Sarah (the princess)... So grace and faith fit each other exactly — the ways of God and the need man now feels — and they are joined together. Now grace will be fruitful: Sarah will have a son.
The timing is no accident. God waits until Abraham has nothing left in himself.
Chapter 16 is something of a side note. Abram has a promise, and now tries to make it come true without God. But then Abram is set aside. His body is now dead at ninety-nine years old. God reveals Himself and says, I am going to give you many descendants, and you must circumcise them, and so on. That is: now that you count as dead, I can do something with you.
The promise about Sarah stands in the same chapter as the sign of circumcision.
The chapter then shows grace that gives out of God's own generosity. At the same time the flesh is judged before Him. That is the meaning of this remarkable seal. So the promise comes out when Sarah's name was changed from "my princess" (Sarai) to simply "princess" (Sarah).
The promise reaches far past one child.
Isaac is this child of promise. He was born to Sarah when she was 90 and Abraham 100, when their bodies were as good as "already dead" (Rom. 4:19), and any natural hope of childbearing was long gone. But God stepped in with sovereign grace to fulfill His own word. Sarah is the free woman... a picture of the godly remnant in Israel who live by faith and by grace, and Christ came from them (pictured in Isaac) when all natural hope of blessing was gone. Isaac then is a beautiful picture of Christ, the promised Seed (Gal. 3:16). He came to earth, not because man kept the law well or anything like that, but because of the unbreakable promise of God, fulfilled by grace alone.
Writers describe the arrangement in different terms — some as covenant, others as figure. One puts it this way:
Having settled Abraham as the father of many nations, and the new covenant in Sarah as the mother of them and even of kings; after this we get the communications of God with Abraham for his own soul, and joy, and as to His dealings with a corrupt world.
Abraham falls on his face and laughs. On its own, that reaction looks like doubt.
He fell on his face and laughed, asking himself in his heart about his own great age, and Sarah's too. At first sight we might take both the laughter and the words as a sign of doubt. But in the light of Romans 4:18-20, we should read them instead as joyful wonder.
The size of the promise is what floors him.
These promises went beyond anything he had known so far, and "Abraham fell on his face." This teaches us a great deal. Abraham with his face in the dust, overcome by the fullness of almighty power and grace!
- Name — Sarai, "my princess," becomes Sarah, "the princess." A private title becomes a public one, and the same letter joins her husband's name in the same moment.
- Death — The promise waits until both bodies are past hope. God calls Himself here the God of resurrection, and a man counted as dead is the one He can work with.
- Gift — What Abraham tried to secure without God, God now gives: grace out of His own generosity, while the flesh is judged by the sign of the covenant.
- Reach — The blessing runs outward from her: a son, then nations, then kings. Last of all comes the promised Seed, who came by unbreakable promise, not by law-keeping.
- Response — Faith's answer is a face in the dust and a laugh; read with Romans 4, it is joyful wonder, not doubt.
And Abraham fell on his face and laughed, and said in his heart, Shall [a child] be born to him that is a hundred years old? and shall Sarah, who is ninety years old, bear?
Abraham is ninety-nine, Sarah is ninety, and God has just promised them a son. His response is to fall on his face and laugh — and readers have argued ever since over what kind of laugh it was.
The promise of a son comes only after every natural possibility has closed.
Chapter 16 is a kind of parenthesis. Abram has a promise, and now he tries to make it good independently of God. But then Abram is set aside, his body now dead at ninety-nine years old. God reveals Himself and says, I am going to give you many descendants, and you must circumcise them, and so on. That is, now that you are viewed as dead, I can do something with you.
This is not his first time face down before God. Since then his name has changed from Abram to Abraham — and so has what he does on the ground.
Again he falls on his face — now as Abraham… Abram once had fallen on his face and listened; but now Abraham fell on his face and laughed.
Commentators differ here. Some read the laugh as wonder. They point to how the New Testament describes Abraham at this age.
At first sight we might take both the laughter and the words as a sign of doubt. But in the light of Romans 4:18-20 we must see them instead as an expression of joyful wonder.
Others take the questions at face value. Abraham measures God's word against his own body and finds it hard to accept.
Abraham's faith was too weak to accept what God had positively spoken. He laughed inwardly, just as Sarah did later (Gen. 18:12). Could he, at 100 years, become a father? And Sarah, at 90 years, give birth to a son? Of course, in natural terms this is impossible. But God is not limited by impossibilities.
The laugh was inward, in his heart. Sarah laughs too, one chapter later, and Scripture treats the two laughs as different. God read what was behind each one.
God seems to accept the faith of Abraham, and Abraham's laughter in his heart gives a name to his son — Isaac, laughter. It was simplicity of heart at unexpected good news. Sarah's — for God can discern — was a disbelieving, mocking satisfaction.
The two ages Abraham names are the real obstacle. Faith here rests on who God is, not on what the body can still do.
God told Abraham that he would have a son by Sarah. Nature told him it was impossible. Yet he did not waver at it through unbelief. He believed in hope — the hope of a son through Sarah, when nature said there was no hope of it. He was strong in faith. The deadness of his own body and of Sarah's womb was no difficulty to him. To him the God who had promised was the God of resurrection. As such, He was able to give life to the dead.
Abraham's question mentions Sarah, and God has already moved to answer it. Her new name is part of the same act of power that raises life out of two worn-out bodies.
The power of His resurrection must be known. That power alone can work in a dead man, to lift him out of death and into this new sphere… This power now comes in: "As for Sarai your wife, you shall not call her name Sarai, but Sarah shall be her name." She too must be made partaker, as it were, of the divine nature. Like him, she must have the breathing of God's name put to hers, so that in figure she may be of the new creation also.
The laughter did not stop with that moment. God tied it to the child's name.
Isaac, "laughter," recalls the laughter of both his parents in view of his birth, and suggests the joy which the coming of the true Son brings.
That joy did not stay private. The laughter changed character and spread to everyone within reach.
I have no doubt that the day in Abraham's heart is the day the Lord Jesus meant when He said, "Abraham rejoiced that he would see My day. He saw it and was glad." Abraham's home was then filled not with the laughter of irony or unbelief that had marked it before, but with the laughter of holy mirth. That laugh is contagious. When it has a place in our own hearts, it will spread to others, as Sarah said, "everyone who hears will laugh with me."
- Dead first. God waits until Abraham's body is as good as dead at ninety-nine. Human ability must be out of the picture before God acts.
- The laugh questioned. Commentators differ. Some read Abraham's laugh as joyful wonder, in line with Romans 4. Others read it as faith too weak to take God at His word.
- The laugh discerned. God judges Abraham's laugh and Sarah's differently. He reads the heart behind the sound, not just the sound.
- The laugh answered. The two impossible ages become the ground of faith: the God who promised is the God who gives life to the dead.
- The laugh named. God turns the laugh into a name — Isaac. That joy grows until it fills a home and reaches everyone who hears.
And Abraham said to God, Oh that Ishmael might live before thee!
Abraham has just heard that Sarah, at ninety, will bear the son of promise. His first words back to God name a different son. The plea is short, warm, and natural, and it raises a hard question. What does a believer do when God's plan overturns the plan he has already built?
The plea asks for more than survival. One writer notes that when God speaks of life, He means more than breath:
"Life" and "living" in Scripture, when God uses it, is not always the thought of mere life; as, "Oh, that Ishmael might live before You." It is divine favour also.
He wants God's favour to rest on Ishmael.
God has just renamed Sarai as Sarah, mother of nations and kings. If God can do that with two people as good as dead, Abraham's reasoning almost writes itself:
But he had received such favour, and his heart went out to the child of the slave woman. He said to God, "Oh, that Ishmael might live before You!" Sarai was now to be Sarah. She was to become nations, with kings coming from her, though he and she were no better than dead. So why should Ishmael not share the covenant? But no: the child of promise and of the free woman is the one with whom God establishes His covenant. For Abraham's sake Ishmael does not go without His blessing; he fathers twelve princes and becomes a great nation. So the reasonings of a saint fall, and God's will alone stands, even in blessing outside the covenant of promise.
Ishmael was Abraham's son by the slave woman, born after the flesh. To ask God to bless him is more than sentiment. Many people share the same instinct:
Abraham's thoughts return to his son born after the flesh, and he pleads with God, "Oh that Ishmael might live before You" (v. 18). This is the same lingering hope that occupies the thoughts of many people — that the flesh might be brought to please God. But Scripture declares the opposite: "those who are in the flesh cannot please God" (Romans 8:8).
Ishmael did receive circumcision, the sign of the covenant. It settled nothing about him:
Abraham's heart yearned over Ishmael. More than that, Ishmael received circumcision, so he carried the mark of the covenant outwardly (Gen. 17:18, 25). It was all useless, however. This word had gone out about him: "He will be a wild man; his hand will be against every man, and every man's hand against him." A wild, unmanageable and quarrelsome fellow he remained. His time of testing ended when he proved himself not only wild, but a despiser and a mocker of Isaac, the promised son, who is a picture of Christ. Then came the word, "Cast out this slave woman with her son, for the son of this slave woman shall not be heir with my son Isaac" (Gen. 21:10).
God does reply, "As for Ishmael, I have heard you" (v. 20). One writer sees in that answer what happens when a believer pleads to keep something God has set aside:
What a moment for the soul! Have there not been such awakenings in God's saints at times? Moments when everything that had delighted the eye was fading away, and the heart cried out: "Oh that Ishmael might live before You!" Must it all go, then? Is there no remnant of former days to spare?... God may pity the soul in this — though it is not His purpose. He may say, as it were, "And as for Ishmael, I have heard you." He may spare the link and bless it in an earthly way. But it never enters the divine path: "But I will establish my covenant with Isaac."
Not every writer reads the verse as a failure. One sees in it a soul that has come back to God and speaks to Him freely:
This is a fine, earnest path for the spirit of a saint. There is a deep reality here. Departure from God proves itself to be bitterness. But God proves Himself to the soul to be restoration and peace. Under His gracious hand faith grows bold again. Abraham presses his plea, with the vigour he had in chapter 15, and asks God that Ishmael might live before Him.
So commentators differ. Some stress how God overturns the reasoning of nature. Others stress the freedom of a restored heart pouring itself out to God.
- Asks — "Live before You" is a plea for God's favour to rest on Ishmael, not just for him to survive.
- Reasons — Abraham's logic makes sense. But God fixes the covenant on the son of promise, and a saint's reasonings fall before God's will.
- Flesh — Behind the plea lies a lingering hope: that the flesh can please God. Scripture says it cannot.
- Marks — Ishmael carried the outward sign of the covenant and stayed exactly what he was. An outward mark changes no nature, and in the end he was cast out.
- Heard — God pities the plea and blesses Ishmael on earth. Yet the link never enters the divine path. God establishes His covenant with Isaac.
And God said, Sarah thy wife shall indeed bear thee a son; and thou shalt call his name Isaac; and I will establish my covenant with him, for an everlasting covenant for his seed after him.
Abraham had just asked for less. He wanted Ishmael, the son already born, to be the son of the covenant. Instead God fixes the covenant on a child who does not yet exist, names him before birth, and sets a date for his arrival.
Abraham had a son already, and his heart went out to him. One writer sees a common instinct in that prayer: the hope that what we produce ourselves can please God.
Abraham's thoughts go back to his son born after the flesh, and he pleads with God, "Oh that Ishmael might live before You!" (v. 18). Many people still hold that same lingering hope — that the flesh can be brought to please God. But scripture declares the opposite, "those who are in the flesh cannot please God" (Romans 8:8).
This refusal does not reject Ishmael. He receives real blessing — just not the covenant. What God sets aside is Abraham's reasoning about how the blessing should run.
Sarai was now to be Sarah. She would become nations, and kings would come from her, even though she and Abraham were as good as dead. So why should Ishmael not share the covenant? But no: the child of promise, the son of the free woman, is the one with whom God establishes His covenant. For Abraham's sake Ishmael does not go without God's blessing — he fathers twelve princes and becomes a great nation... So the reasoning of a believer falls, and God's will alone stands, even in blessing outside the covenant of promise.
Abraham is ninety-nine. Sarah is ninety. The timing is no accident. God speaks after all natural strength is gone.
But when Abraham was ninety-nine years old, there was no hope of a child by natural means. His body was now dead. Then God reveals Himself to him by His name: "I am God Almighty."
One writer draws out the principle behind this. God ties the covenant to the son only His power could give, not to the son nature could produce.
All of this was called "God's covenant" with him. That again tells us plainly that God's purpose, or secret, or covenant, rested on resurrection. It rested on setting aside the flesh with all its strength and resources, and on doing something beyond and above nature... And so Isaac is born out of the dead bodies of Abraham and Sarah. God's covenant is with Isaac. Ishmael may be blessed — and he is — but the covenant is with Isaac, and with Isaac alone.
God names the child before his mother conceives him. The name means "laughter." It picks up how both parents reacted, and it also points ahead.
Isaac, "laughter," recalls the laughter of both his parents in view of his birth, and suggests that joy which the coming of the true Son brings.
One writer reads Abraham's own laugh as faith, not doubt. He heard an impossible promise and laughed.
See how Abraham acted. God made a covenant of blessing with him, and told him He would bless him with this child of promise... As he heard God's promises, he laughed to himself and said in his heart, "Shall a child be born to a man who is a hundred years old? Shall Sarah, who is ninety years old, bear a child?"... His laugh was the LAUGH OF FAITH.
The word "everlasting" carries weight here. This covenant does not depend on how the people who receive it behave.
It is the covenant God made with Abraham. It was unconditional, not in the least conditional on the obedience of Israel. He affirmed the same covenant again to Isaac (Gen. 26:4), and confirmed it to Jacob (Gen. 28:13-14), despite Jacob's wandering away. It was an everlasting covenant, and so it depends only on the faithfulness of God.
One writer looks past the family line here. Isaac pictures Christ, and the way he came pictures how Christ is given to us.
But God's covenant He would establish with Isaac (v. 21), a clear type of the Lord Jesus. Sarah, a picture of God's grace, would bring him to Abraham, just as the grace of God brings Christ to the believing sinner today. Isaac would be born one year from the time God spoke to Abraham. Abraham had to wait that much longer, with time to think about God's promise. That promise was completely sure, but no one could rush it ahead of God's time.
- Refused — Abraham asked God to work with the son he already had. God said no: "those who are in the flesh cannot please God."
- Given — the son of the covenant had to be one nature could not produce, born "out of the dead bodies of Abraham and Sarah."
- Named — God named him "laughter" before he was even conceived. The name hints at "that joy which the coming of the true Son brings."
- Guaranteed — the covenant is everlasting. It carries no conditions and rests only on "the faithfulness of God."
- Pointing — Ishmael is truly blessed, but the covenant runs through Isaac alone, "a clear type of the Lord Jesus."
And for Ishmael I have heard thee behold, I will bless him, and will make him fruitful, and will very greatly multiply him; twelve princes shall he beget, and I will make him a great nation.
Abraham had just asked God to let Ishmael live before Him. God's reply grants blessing, fruitfulness, twelve princes and a great nation — but not the covenant.
God does not brush aside what Abraham asked. One writer sees a moment many believers know. Something long loved is slipping away, and the heart pleads for it.
Have there not been such awakenings in God's people at times? Moments when everything that had delighted the eye was fading away, and the heart cried out: "Oh, that Ishmael might live before You!" Must it all go then? Is there no remnant of former days that may be spared? Has it all been a mistake?… God may pity the soul in this — though it is not His purpose. He may say, as it were: "And as for Ishmael, I have heard you." God may spare the tie and bless it in an earthly way. But it never enters the path that is divine: "But I will establish My covenant with Isaac."
The words "I have heard you" reach back to the boy's name. God gave that name to his mother Hagar before he was born.
The angel of the Lord appeared to Hagar and told her to return to her mistress. Her offspring would be beyond number, and she was to call her son's name Ishmael, which means "El shall hear."… Abraham prayed that Ishmael might live before God, but Ishmael stands as a picture of the seed of Abraham according to the flesh. So God answered: He would bless Ishmael, multiply him greatly, and make him a great nation, and Ishmael would father twelve princes. Yet He would establish the covenant with Isaac.
Abraham had reasoned his way to a request: let Ishmael share the covenant. The answer sets his reasoning aside, yet it does not leave Ishmael without kindness.
But no: God establishes His covenant with the child of promise, the son of the free woman. Yet Ishmael, for Abraham's sake, does not go without His blessing. He fathers twelve princes and becomes a great nation… So the reasonings of a saint fall to the ground. God's will alone stands, even in blessing outside the covenant of promise. Even there, no flesh will boast in His presence.
Blessing and inheritance are not the same thing. The difference is not about love.
Ishmael does not belong to this chapter, but he is blessed in it as a son of Abraham, and so loved; yet he is no co-heir. That cannot be — all that comes from a higher source.
The promise here concerns natural things, and Scripture records where it came true.
God answered the request about Ishmael and promised to bless him in natural things, making him a great nation under twelve princes. Genesis 25:12-16 records the fulfilment.
The number twelve is no accident, and these names appear again later in Scripture.
The names we find here can be traced in other Scriptures. For instance, Isaiah 60, the great chapter of the millennial kingdom, mentions Nebaioth and Kedar (verse 7). The number twelve, twelve princes, links Ishmael closely with Israel. In the future God will bless Israel and give it the promised land as a glorious possession. Then Ishmael's descendants will not be forgotten.
Commentators differ here. Some see Ishmael as a picture of Israel's unbelieving majority:
The unbelieving mass of the nation are children of Abraham according to the flesh; but only the believing remnant are the true seed according to promise. Still, even the children according to the flesh would be great on the earth.
Others see a picture of life under law:
Being the son of a slave woman, Ishmael pictures those under the bondage of law, living in a desert that produces no fruit for God.
- Heard — Abraham's plea was not ignored. God begins His answer by saying He has heard, and the boy's very name means that God hears.
- Given — What God grants is real: fruitfulness, twelve princes, a great nation. It is blessing in natural things.
- Withheld — Blessing is not covenant. Ishmael is loved as Abraham's son, yet he is not a co-heir; the promise runs through Isaac alone.
- Corrected — Abraham's reasoning falls, and God's will stands. Nothing here rests on what the flesh can produce.
- Remembered — Genesis 25 records the twelve princes. Writers point to Isaiah 60: Ishmael's line is not forgotten in the day God blesses Israel.
But my covenant will I establish with Isaac, whom Sarah shall bear to thee at this appointed time in the next year.
God's reply here closes a conversation Abraham started by pointing to the son he already had. Abraham had asked that Ishmael might live before God. God had just promised a son by Sarah. This verse settles which son the covenant runs through, and when he will arrive.
Abraham's plea made sense by human logic. He and Sarah were as good as dead, and a living son already stood in front of him.
Abraham, who had received such favour, felt for the child of the slave woman. He said to God, "Oh, that Ishmael might live before you!" Sarai was from now on to be Sarah. She was to become nations, with kings coming from her, though he and she were no better than dead. So why should Ishmael not share the covenant? But no. God establishes His covenant with the child of promise, the son of the free woman. Ishmael, for Abraham's sake, does not go without His blessing: he fathers twelve princes and becomes a great nation… So the reasonings of a believer fall, and God's will alone stands, even in blessing outside the covenant of promise.
Ishmael is not shut out of the chapter or out of love. What he cannot be is a joint heir.
Ishmael does not belong to this chapter, but he is blessed in it as a son of Abraham, and so loved. He is no co-heir. That cannot be. All of it flows from a higher source.
God's reply has two halves. He hears Abraham about Ishmael, but He keeps the covenant for Isaac. Many believers know that pattern: God spares what is dear, yet does not build on it.
What a moment for the soul! Have there not been such awakenings in God's saints at times? Moments when everything the eye loved was fading away, and the heart cried out: "Oh that Ishmael might live before you!" Must everything go then? Is there no remnant of former days that God may spare? Has it all been a mistake? God may pity the soul in this — though not His purpose. He may say, as it were: "And as for Ishmael, I have heard you." The link may be spared and blessed in an earthly way. But it never enters the path which is divine: "But I will establish my covenant with Isaac."
Romans 9 picks up these words about Sarah and her son. They prove that descent from Abraham settles nothing by itself.
He appeals first to the history of Abraham. If the Jew insists on natural descent, he must let the Arabians into blessing too. They descended from Abraham through Ishmael (Gen. 25:12-18). Natural descent is therefore shut out. With Isaac we see the blessing secured on the principle of sovereign electing grace, for the word is, "Through Isaac shall your offspring be named." Ishmael was the child of flesh, but Isaac was the child of promise. That this promise came by sovereign grace is plain from the word, "About this time next year I will return, and Sarah shall have a son."
One writer sees Ishmael as a picture of a wider group.
From Romans 9:6-9, it would seem that Ishmael sets forth the unbelieving mass of Israel… The unbelieving mass are children of Abraham by natural descent. Only the believing remnant are the true seed by promise. Still, even the children by natural descent would be great on the earth.
God names the son, and He also names the date.
But God's covenant He would establish with Isaac (v. 21), a clear picture of the Lord Jesus. Sarah, a picture of God's grace, would bring Isaac to Abraham, just as the grace of God brings Christ to the believing sinner today. Isaac would be born one year from the time God spoke to Abraham. Abraham had to wait that much longer. He had time to think about God's promise. It was completely sure, but it would not come ahead of God's time.
One older translation reads "at this appointed time in the next year." That set time runs on through Scripture.
God set a time when the promised son was born to Abraham. In the same way, He had an appointed time to give His own Son: "when the fullness of time had come, God sent forth His Son." There is also a set time when God will bring the First-Begotten into the world again, at His second coming. Then it will be the set time for Israel too, when God remembers His promises and visits and does all that He has spoken concerning them. "You will arise and have pity on Zion; it is the time to favour her; the appointed time has come" (Psalm 102:13).
- Covenant. God alone fixes the line of promise; Abraham's proposal for Ishmael falls, and God's will stands.
- Blessing. God hears Ishmael, loves him and makes him a great nation — real blessing, but outside the covenant.
- Heir. Only the child of promise inherits. Natural descent settles nothing, or the Arabians would inherit too.
- Heart. Every believer meets a moment when God spares and blesses the Ishmael he pleads for, yet keeps him off the divine path.
- Timing. The promise carries a date. The God who kept "this time next year" also kept the fullness of time. He will keep the set time still to come.
And he left off talking with him; and God went up from Abraham.
This chapter is one long conversation. God makes Himself known to Abraham, makes a covenant with him, and gives him the sign of circumcision. Then the talking stops, and God goes up.
Two things are true at once here. Abraham got a full hearing, and God stayed in charge of the meeting.
God went up from him. He was talking with Abraham, and went only when He had finished. Abraham could bring the desires of his heart to God, and he had a full answer. But God had His own purpose.
Just before the talking begins, Abraham falls on his face. That posture is not a small detail. It is what makes the conversation possible.
"And God talked with him." It is when man is in the dust that God can talk to him in grace. Abraham's posture here beautifully shows a man bowed right down before God, feeling his utter weakness and nothingness. And notice: this always comes before God reveals Himself. When the creature is laid low, God can show Himself in the unclouded brightness of what He is. He will not give His glory to another. Until the sinner takes his proper place, God does not unfold His character.
Talking with God here is more than bringing Him needs. And the order matters: God makes Himself known first, and the talking follows.
There is something more than prayer; there is the enjoyment of fellowship. Where souls do not enter into this, where they cannot get near enough to God, and do not get used to His talking to them in His word and their own free pleading before Him, there is a great lack in the Christian's private life... Notice that the exchange in this scene is the fruit of God revealing Himself more fully to the soul. So everything rested, not on a fresh start taken by man, but on His gracious ways with the soul... It is one thing for a man to think up out of his own mind what he would say to God. It is quite another thing for God to speak about Himself, and to give the revelation that is suited to bless a man's soul.
Being brought to nothing does not leave Abraham afraid. It leaves him free to enjoy God — and that changes what he asks for.
It is the revelation of God, and our place is in the revelation of Him, our talking with Him, and He talking with us. Abraham fell on his face; he is brought to nothing. Yet he may enjoy God. He has no fear and no holding back... Then in the next chapter, do we find him talking about himself? No! He is pleading for others. He has come into the tone of God's heart. He is not struggling with God for a blessing for himself, as Jacob did. Knowing what he has received, he is able to intercede.
The moment God stops speaking, Abraham starts obeying.
Having finished this great communication, God left off talking with Abraham. That same day Abraham is careful to keep the covenant by performing the rite of circumcision. He puts into practice the word he had heard. He acts in keeping with the revelation God has made of Himself.
Does that make the sign a rule to keep? One writer sets it beside the sabbath in Genesis 2.
Circumcision here, then, is not introduced in a legal way, any more than the sabbath in Genesis 2. It is really the answer in man to the grace of God.
Scripture says almost the same words about Jacob later. One writer sets that grace beside the stories the nations told about their gods.
"Then God went up from him in the place where He had spoken with him." These words about Jacob are much like the words about Abraham in Genesis 17:22. What grace to both! And what a difference beyond words from the made-up stories of gods mixing with the nations, even if those stories had been true!
- God speaks first. The talking is the fruit of God revealing Himself. It rests on His gracious ways, not on a fresh start taken by man.
- Man is low. God talks in grace to a man in the dust. Only when the creature is laid low does God show Himself as He is.
- God finishes. He went up only when He had finished. Abraham could bring the desires of his heart and get a full answer. Yet God kept His own purpose.
- Talking overflows. Communion follows. In the next chapter Abraham pleads for others instead of struggling for himself.
- Abraham obeys. That same day he keeps the covenant, putting into practice the word he heard — the answer in man to the grace of God.
And Abraham took Ishmael his son, and all who were born in his house, and all who were bought with his money -- every male among the people of Abraham's house -- and circumcised the flesh of their foreskin on that same day, as God had said to him.
God has just spoken to Abraham about His covenant. Part of it was a sign, to be cut into the body of every male in his house. What Abraham does with that word, and how soon, is the weight of this verse.
The verse marks the gap between hearing and doing, and how short Abraham made it.
Having finished this great communication God left off talking with Abraham. That same day Abraham is careful to keep the covenant by performing the rite of circumcision. He puts into practice the word he had heard. He acts in keeping with the way God has revealed Himself.
The speed matters more when you see what God asked of him.
The closing paragraph of the chapter shows how Abraham's faith showed itself at once in works. He accepted the outward sign of circumcision for himself and for his house. No time was lost. The thing was done "that very day." The operation itself was not pleasant. It ran against natural feelings. In each one the flesh would have cried out to be spared.
Commentators read the sign as a verdict passed on human nature itself.
But God speaks of the seal of circumcision. It is not now something outside him, as we saw in the dead animals of chapter 15... What does it mean? Flesh put to death before God. The sentence of death is put on man in His sight — on Abram himself, and on his descendants after him. Circumcision here is not introduced in a legal way... It is really the answer in man to the grace of God.
Yet the sign came to a man God had already counted righteous.
Romans 4 teaches that circumcision was "a seal of the righteousness that he had by faith." "Abraham believed God, and it was counted to him as righteousness." God counted him righteous, and then set His seal upon him.
Abraham did not treat this as a private matter between himself and God. Every male he had authority over came under it.
Abraham's obedience was blessedly prompt. It is a bright scene, though it is in the flesh. All that belonged to him, all his house, come under God's covenant.
The verse names two groups: those born in the house, and those bought with money. That line matters, and writers see a principle set here for the first time.
The sign was circumcision. Abraham had to keep it, and so did his descendants and all his household. That last term takes in everyone born in his house, and every bondservant he had bought. It left out the casual servant, who was only hired. Here for the first time in Scripture we find a household treated as one with the man who is its head. They are those over whom the head has authority, so that he can command them.
Ishmael is named first in the verse, which raises an obvious question: does bearing the sign make a man an heir? Commentators are clear that it does not.
Everyone born in Abraham's house, or bought with money, had to be circumcised. Circumcision was the seal of the promise made to Abraham. If one of the promised seed was not circumcised, he lost his title. But it was a seal he had a right to by birth. And the real blessing was by promise: circumcision did not bring anyone into it at all. God called Abraham's seed in Isaac. The covenant promises belong to that seed, not to Ishmael. Yet Ishmael was circumcised just as much as Isaac.
The outward rite has passed, but writers hold that the thing it stood for has not.
If God covenants to bless by His Almighty power, then on our side there must be no confidence in the flesh. We must give it no room to act. For the believer today, circumcision is "a matter of the heart, by the Spirit, not by the letter. His praise is not from man but from God" (Rom. 2:29). The refusal of the flesh is not to be merely an outward neglect of the body, which the world can see. It is the refusal of the flesh in all its inward workings in the heart — its self-confidence, self-righteousness, vanity and lusts — as that which has been condemned in the cross (Col. 2:11).
- Heard. God stopped speaking. Abraham now had the word, and the test was what he would do with it.
- Obeyed. That very day, without delay, he did the painful thing his nature would have argued against.
- Sealed. The knife was a sentence of death on the flesh, set on a man already counted righteous by faith years before.
- Household. Everyone under his authority — his son, servants born in the house, servants bought — came under the covenant with him. Here Scripture first ties a household to its head.
- Promise. Ishmael bore the sign, but he was not the heir. The sign never made the blessing. That came by promise, in Isaac alone.
And Abraham was ninety-nine years old when he was circumcised in the flesh of his foreskin.
God had just laid out His covenant with Abraham, and that same day Abraham cut its sign into his own body at ninety-nine. Why did God wait so long, and what did the mark mean for a man already counted righteous?
The number ninety-nine only makes sense against the years before it. Between Ishmael's birth and this chapter there is a long gap in the record.
Abram was eighty-six years old when Ishmael was born. The next chapter tells us that Abram was ninety-nine years old when the Lord spoke to him again. So for thirteen years Abram's life seems to have been empty of any communication from the Lord. What a harvest of the flesh.
The age is not a small detail. It marks the point where Abraham had nothing left to give, and that is when God moved.
Chapter 16 is a side note. Abram has a promise, and now tries to make it good independently of God. But when Abram is set aside, his body now dead at ninety-nine years old, God reveals Himself. He says, I am going to give you many descendants, and you must circumcise them, and so on. That is: now that you are viewed as dead, I can do something with you.
The New Testament explains what the cut meant. It points back to a righteousness already counted to Abraham, and forward to the death of Christ.
Circumcision was, therefore, the seal of the righteousness of faith. Some fourteen years earlier God had counted Abram righteous. Abram believed God, and God counted it to him as righteousness. First righteousness by faith, then the seal. The New Testament says that believers are circumcised: "In him also you were circumcised with a circumcision made without hands, by putting off the body of the flesh, by the circumcision of Christ" (Colossians 2:11). The circumcision of Christ is the death of Christ; in Him the body of the flesh is put off.
Verse 24 sits inside a paragraph that stresses speed. Faith here shows itself in what Abraham did.
The closing paragraph of the chapter shows how quickly Abraham's faith expressed itself in works. He accepted the outward sign of circumcision for himself and for his household. He wasted no time: the thing was done "that very day." The operation was not pleasant, and it ran against natural feelings. In each case the flesh would have cried out to be spared. How fitting, then, that it pictures the death to the flesh that the New Testament speaks of. There the question is not the material body of man, but the fallen nature belonging to that body, with its appetites and desires.
The order matters. Isaac was born only after his father carried the sign in his own body.
Abraham was circumcised at ninety-nine years old, so Isaac was to be born of a circumcised father. God would fulfill the promise only when the strength of the flesh is seen to be cut off, for the works of the flesh are refused altogether. The promise can be realized only by faith in the living God.
God counted Abraham righteous years before this day. So the mark could never be the ground of blessing, and that opened the door to people who never bore it.
Abraham was justified by faith centuries before the law was given through Moses. He was also justified by faith, and so he was certainly saved, years before he was circumcised (Genesis 15:6; 17:26). No one, then, needs to keep the law or be circumcised in order to be justified by faith. It was therefore plain that Gentiles could share in the grace of justification just as much as Jews.
- Waiting — Abraham tried to secure the promise his own way. Thirteen silent years followed — the harvest of the flesh.
- Death — God speaks again only when Abraham's body is as good as dead: now that he is set aside, God can work.
- Seal — The mark did not make Abraham righteous. It sealed a righteousness God had counted to him by faith fourteen years earlier.
- Obedience — Faith answered that very day. The act ran against natural feeling, and it pictures death to the fallen nature.
- Reach — Faith came first and the sign came after. So the blessing was never fenced in by circumcision, and Gentiles share the same justification by faith.
And Ishmael his son was thirteen years old when he was circumcised in the flesh of his foreskin.
Genesis 17 ends with Abraham obeying at once, and verse 25 records the age of Ishmael — thirteen years old, circumcised on the same day as his ninety-nine-year-old father. If the covenant was to run through Isaac, who was not yet born, why mark Ishmael at all?
Abraham did not wait for a better moment.
When God had finished this great communication, He stopped talking with Abraham. That same day Abraham is careful to keep the covenant by carrying out the rite of circumcision. He puts into practice the word he had heard, and acts in a way that matches the revelation God has made of Himself.
Abraham had prayed for this son. The mark placed on him admitted that the blessing would not come the way Abraham first asked.
When Ishmael was thirteen years old Abraham circumcised him, and all the men of his house. In this act Abraham acknowledged in faith that the blessing he had asked for his natural offspring could not come through the strength of the flesh. God secures all His mercies in resurrection.
Ishmael carried the same mark as everyone else in the house, yet the covenant was not transferred to him. Abraham's plea for him was heard — but God answered it His own way.
Abraham had received such favour, yet his heart went out to the child of the slave woman. He said to God, "Oh that Ishmael might live before you!" ... But no. God establishes His covenant with the child of promise, the son of the free woman. Ishmael, for Abraham's sake, does not go without His blessing: he fathers twelve princes and becomes a great nation. So the reasonings of a saint fall, and God's will alone stands, even in blessing outside the covenant of promise.
The rite and the promise are two different things, and only one of them carries the inheritance.
Everyone actually born in Abraham's house, or even bought with money, had to be circumcised. Circumcision was the seal of the promise made to Abraham... But, further, the real blessing was by promise: circumcision did not bring into it at all. Abraham's offspring was called in Isaac. The covenant promises belong to that offspring, not to Ishmael. Yet Ishmael was circumcised just as much as Isaac.
Age made no difference to who received the sign.
For Abraham, the first man to receive it, circumcision had been "a seal of the righteousness that he had by faith" (Rom. 4:11). That did not stop the thirteen-year-old Ishmael from receiving it, or the eight-day-old Isaac... Notice too that circumcision is the "putting off of the body of the flesh" (Col. 2:11), and that the true circumcision "put no confidence in the flesh" (Phil. 3:3).
Ishmael left that day bearing the covenant sign in his body. What he became later shows how little that sign did for him.
Abraham's heart yearned over Ishmael. He cried out that Ishmael might live before God. More than that, Abraham circumcised him, so Ishmael carried the mark of the covenant outwardly (Gen. 17:18, 25). All of it, however, was useless... He remained a wild, unmanageable and quarrelsome man — a fitting picture of the flesh.
The rite Abraham carried out that day had a meaning he was never told.
As far as Abraham was concerned, circumcision was just a rite to keep, since nothing shows that he was taught its spiritual meaning... The Messiah was cut off, as predicted. He was severed from His life down here in flesh and blood, so that He might take up life again in resurrection. As identified with Him, we put the sentence of death on the old life in the flesh that we once lived, and so put off the body of the flesh. So the meaning of the rite was the putting of the death sentence on the flesh and all its works. God's unconditional covenant of promise is not made good on the ground of the flesh.
- Same day. Abraham heard God and acted the same day, putting the word he had heard into practice.
- Same mark. Ishmael at thirteen received what Isaac would receive at eight days. The sign speaks of the flesh cut off, not of age or merit.
- Not the same place. Every male in Abraham's house carried the mark, but the inheritance came by promise, and the promise ran through Isaac.
- Not the same result. The sign on Ishmael's body did him no good. His later wildness pictures the flesh, which no outward rite improves.
- Same lesson for us. The rite pointed to the death sentence on the flesh. Christ was cut off and rose again, and those joined to Him put no confidence in what they are by nature.
In the selfsame day was Abraham circumcised, and Ishmael his son;
God has just finished speaking with Abraham. Before the day ends, the ninety-nine-year-old man and his son Ishmael have obeyed in their own bodies. Why the hurry? Why include Ishmael? And what does this painful sign really mean?
The verse gives a date, not a discussion. One writer notes how fast Abraham moved, and how far the command reached:
Abraham's obedience was prompt, and blessedly so. Though it is a scene in the flesh, it is still a bright one: all who belonged to him, his whole household, come under God's covenant.
Faith here showed itself in action, and the action cost something:
The last paragraph of the chapter shows how Abraham's faith quickly expressed itself in works. He accepted the outward sign of circumcision for himself and for his house. He lost no time; the thing was done "that very day." The operation itself was not a pleasant one. It ran against natural feeling, and in each man the flesh would have cried out to be spared. How fitting, then, that it pictures the death to the flesh that the New Testament speaks of. There it is not the physical body of man that is in question, but the fallen nature that marks that body, with its appetites and lusts.
Genesis 15 had already settled how Abraham stood before God. This chapter takes up something else — how he was to walk:
As Christians we are not asked, any more than Abraham was, to walk well in order to get the blessing. We are asked to walk in a way that suits God because we are blessed already. To walk like that, and to be perfect before God, calls for dependence on God and on His almighty power. But this means the complete refusal of the flesh. That is why God brought in circumcision: as a sign that the flesh must be put to death if the walk is to be perfect before God. In Genesis 15, death came in as the ground of justification. Here the refusal of the flesh, through the sign that speaks of death to the flesh, is for holiness of walk.
The order of events matters. The promised child had not yet arrived, and the father received the mark first:
When this wonderful meeting ended, Abraham took Ishmael and all his male servants, both those born in his house and those he had bought, and circumcised them... Abraham himself was circumcised at the same time, at 99 years old. So Isaac would be born of a circumcised father. God would fulfil the promise only when the strength of the flesh was seen to be cut off, for the works of the flesh are refused completely. The promise can be realized only by faith in the living God.
Ishmael was circumcised that day too. Yet the covenant itself was established with another son:
But no: the child of promise, the son of the free woman, is the one with whom God establishes His covenant. Ishmael, for Abraham's sake, is not left without His blessing; he fathers twelve princes and becomes a great nation. And that very day Abraham is circumcised, and Ishmael, and every male born in his house or bought with his money (vv. 25-27). So the reasonings of a saint fall away, and God's will alone stands, even in blessing outside the covenant of promise. Even there no flesh shall boast in His presence. The flesh is never improved; it passes under a sentence of death.
The mark cut into Abraham's body that day was not a badge of law-keeping. It answers to something God has made ours in Christ:
So circumcision here is not brought in as a matter of law... It is really man's answer to the grace of God. It is what God has made the Christian's portion in our Lord Jesus: that "circumcision made without hands," which God has given us in Him, for in Him we are circumcised. Now it is not a victim that dies; every child of Abraham takes the place of death by this sign. The sign pictures our death with Christ, the perfect deliverance of the person as dead with Him. Until you know what it is to be dead in this way, you cannot enjoy what it is to be free toward God.
- Same day. God speaks, and Abraham acts before the day ends — obedience that loses no time is the mark of real faith.
- Same house. The sign did not stop with Abraham. Sons and servants alike came under God's covenant.
- Same knife. The cut went against natural feeling, and that is the point. The flesh is put to death, not improved.
- Same rule for Ishmael. Blessing outside the covenant is still blessing. But even there the flesh cannot boast; God's will alone stands.
- Same lesson for us. What Abraham carried as a sign, believers now have in full: death with Christ, and freedom toward God.
and all the men of his house, born in his house, or bought with money of the stranger, were circumcised with him.
Genesis 17 ends in action: every male in Abraham's house took the covenant sign that same day. That raises two questions: why did the whole household share one man's sign, and what did the sign secure?
One writer links Abraham's speed to what he had just learned about God.
Having finished this great communication, God left off talking with Abraham. That same day Abraham is careful to keep the covenant by performing the rite of circumcision. He puts into practice the word that he had heard, and acts consistently with the revelation that God has made of Himself.
One writer draws the meaning out of the pain itself.
The closing paragraph of the chapter shows Abraham's faith turning at once into works. He accepted the outward sign of circumcision for himself and for his house. They lost no time. It was done "that very day." The operation was not pleasant. It went against natural feelings, and in each man the flesh would have cried out to be spared. So it is a fitting picture of that death to the flesh which the New Testament speaks of. Only there the subject is not the material body of man. It is the fallen nature that marks that body, with its appetites and desires.
The verse names two groups: men born in the house and men bought from outside. Together they make something Scripture had not shown before.
Though the fulfilment of this covenant depended upon God and not upon Abraham, there was a sign given in connection with it... The sign was circumcision. Abraham was to keep it, and so were his descendants and all his household. His household meant everyone born in his house and every slave he had bought. The casual servant, who was only hired, evidently did not come under it. Here for the first time in Scripture we find a household treated as one with its head. Its members are those the head has authority over, so that he can command them, as we see in verse 19 of the next chapter.
The men bought with money had no claim by birth. They received the mark anyway. One writer follows that through to what Christians have now.
So circumcision began with Abraham. It was to carry on in his descendants after the flesh, and even with any stranger born in their house. It was the required sign of the Lord's covenant in his flesh. But the Christian enjoys it in the better way of the spirit. He is circumcised with a circumcision not made by hands, in the putting off of the body of the flesh in the circumcision of Christ (Colossians 2:11)... It was a privilege granted to strangers, to slaves.
Because the mark covered everyone in the tent, it is easy to think the mark made the blessing. One writer notes that no one was left out, and that the sign sealed something already true of Abraham:
The covenant of circumcision is now introduced. Every member of the household of faith must bear in his body the seal of that covenant. There must be no exception... We are taught in Romans 4 that circumcision was a seal of the righteousness that Abraham had by faith. "Abraham believed God, and it was counted to him as righteousness." Because God counted him righteous, He set His seal on him.
Another writer makes the same point from the other side. He points to Ishmael.
Circumcision was the seal of the promise God made to Abraham. If one of the promised line was not circumcised, he lost his title; but it was a seal he had a right to by birth. Further, the real blessing came by promise: circumcision did not bring anyone into it at all. Abraham's line was called in Isaac, and the covenant promises belong to that line, not to Ishmael. Yet Ishmael was circumcised just as much as Isaac.
- Heard. God finished speaking, and Abraham did not wait. He put the word straight into practice, in line with the God who had revealed Himself to him.
- Hurt. The sign was painful and against natural feeling; every man's flesh would have asked to be spared. That is why it pictures death to the fallen nature.
- Household. Here Scripture first shows a household identified with its head. Sons, home-born servants and bought men all shared it. The hired servant did not.
- Strangers. Men bought from foreigners had no claim by birth, yet they carried the covenant sign. That privilege for strangers and slaves finds its answer in the circumcision of Christ, not made by hands.
- Seal. The mark sealed a righteousness Abraham already had by faith. It did not create the blessing. Ishmael was circumcised just as Isaac was, yet the promise ran through Isaac alone.
And Jehovah appeared to him by the oaks of Mamre. And he sat at the tent-door in the heat of the day.
Genesis 18 opens with an appearance unlike any before it: the Lord comes to Abraham as a traveller at his tent in the hottest part of the day. Why does He come in this form, and why to this man?
The chapter before ended with circumcision, the sign God gave Abraham. One writer sees the order of the two chapters as deliberate.
Look at the amazing scene in the opening verses of Genesis 18. We cannot escape the conviction that the truth of circumcision, presented in the previous chapter, must be learned and accepted before the high privilege described here can be enjoyed. Here God not only appears to Abraham. He openly links Himself with him, in a setting designed to show how great His pleasure is in doing so.
The same order runs on to what Abraham does later. Once he has the sign of death, he stops asking for himself.
God has made Himself known to him, and the result of this is communion. Abraham draws no strength of his own from this; he is on his face. But he has the blessed familiarity of relationship. Does He now ask Abraham what he wants? No! He gives him a sign of death and resurrection in circumcision. Then in the next chapter do we find him talking about himself? No! Instead he is pleading for others.
Three men stand before Abraham. Two of them go on to Sodom in the next chapter, where Scripture calls them angels.
The style of His coming is as noticeable as everything else: there is no distance, there is intimacy. It is three men who come — in fact, two angels, and One before whom the angels veil their faces. But they come as men, and they keep that place. This stands out all the more because the two who left Abraham as men are called angels when they reach Sodom in the next chapter. Clearly this difference has meaning in it. How sweet a foreshadowing of what was to take place in due time — the One in whom faith sees the glory of Immanuel came to live among us in flesh, and to faith He is no longer only a Visitor.
Another writer notes the hour of the visit and how Abraham received the strangers.
This appearance was unusual. It was unlike any earlier one, because "three men" approached, and it came "in the heat of the day," just when no one would pay a visit in the ordinary way. Abraham's hospitality rose to the occasion, and he entertained angels without knowing it, as Hebrews 13:2 puts it. It was even more than that, for one of the three was Jehovah Himself appearing to him.
Abraham sits at a tent door, not a house door. One writer sees great honour in that.
It teaches us a great deal to see the honour put here on the character and condition of the stranger. In the whole wide world there was just one spot where the Lord could accept hospitality and make Himself at home. That spot was the tent of a pilgrim and stranger. The Lord would not honour the splendid halls and princely palaces of Egypt with His presence. No. All His sympathies and all His affections hung around the stranger of Mamre. In the middle of an evil world, he alone could be persuaded to take God for his portion.
Nothing outward marked one visitor out from the other two. Abraham still knew who had come.
There seems to have been no outward sign by which Abraham, or anyone else, could have known that Jehovah was present. All the world would have seen was three men at his tent door. But Abraham had the discernment of a man of faith who walks near to God. He tells the LORD apart from the two angels, bows to the ground in reverence, and speaks to Him directly.
The visit has a purpose beyond the meal. After the promise of a son, the talk turns away from Abraham's own affairs.
God is about to judge the world, and He now appears to Abraham to give him the immediate promise of the son who is coming... Now Jehovah will deal with Abraham as a man deals with his friend. He speaks with Abraham about what concerned the world, not himself. It is not Abraham's wants, or even Abraham's walk, but the purpose of God which He would have him know, opening His thoughts and plans to him... What a place of privilege and blessing! It is not worship. It is not a call to follow where the Lord led. All of that had its place. It is communion — personal conversation with God about what concerns Himself and His ways.
- Prepared — Chapter 17 comes first. The sign of circumcision clears the way, and open fellowship follows.
- Near — God does not send a message from a distance. He arrives as a man among men, which writers read as a foreshadowing of God coming in flesh.
- Humble — The one place on earth where the Lord made Himself at home was a tent. A pilgrim's tent, not Egypt's palace, held His affections.
- Discerned — Nothing visible marked Him out. Abraham knew Him because he was already walking near to God, and he bowed to the ground in reverence.
- Outward — The visit ends with Abraham pleading for others, not for himself. Nearness to God turns a man's eyes toward the world God is about to judge.
And he lifted up his eyes and saw, and behold, three men standing near him. And when he saw [them], he ran to meet them from the tent-door, and bowed himself to the earth,
Abraham is resting at his tent door in the midday heat. Three travellers are standing there, and everything turns on Who they were and on how Abraham treated them before he knew.
The answer comes out slowly, as the account moves on into the next chapter.
The manner of His coming is striking. Abraham looks up and sees that "three men were standing in front of him." As the story goes on we learn that two of them were angels. Later they appear as angels in the gate of Sodom (Gen. 19:1). The other, we know, was none less than the LORD Himself, appearing in human form. It points forward to the time when the Son of God becomes man and lives among people.
Another writer notes how close He comes, and that He keeps the form He has taken:
The style of His coming is as noticeable as everything else. There is no distance; there is intimacy. Three men come: in fact, two angels, and One before whom the angels veil their faces. But they come as men, and keep this place.
There was no glory and no announcement — nothing to mark these three out as more than travellers.
Here again the Lord appears, though we may notice this special feature about it now, that He leaves it to Abraham to find out Who was visiting him. There is no outward token of the majesty of His presence — no special intimation betrays Who was there. Notice also that this time the Lord came Himself, with two others who no doubt looked much like Him.
Commentators differ on how quickly Abraham realised. Kelly finds no sign that Abraham knew, or even suspected, Who it was at the start. Others read his opening words as proof he already knew:
And Abraham's practiced heart knew under all disguises Him who stood there. We learn this plainly from the first words with which he welcomes One whom yet in this garb he has never seen before. "Lord," he says, distinguishing Him by a title only given to God…
An elderly man breaks into a run to meet them.
He ran to meet them, though he was not a young man. The energy of his faith and affection for the Lord is lovely to observe. He bowed himself to the earth and begged the Lord to stay and accept his hospitality. He offered water to wash their feet and asked them to rest in the shade of the tree.
Bending low did not make him small. The two things sit together in him:
See the character of Abraham: it is very lovely — genuine lowliness, but remarkable dignity.
The Bible's most common word for worship first appears in this bow.
The word used most often for worship is proskuneo. It comes from pros and kuneo, "to fawn or crouch," and "to kiss." Its first use in Scripture is in Genesis 18:2 in the Greek Old Testament, when Abraham bows to the ground… It covers every act of outward honour, such as kneeling or bowing low. People gave such honour to kings and other superiors, and also to a divine person, or to one they treated as such.
These two chapters set two believers side by side, and the difference is where each one sits.
In Genesis 18:1, Abraham comes before us as sitting in his tent door. In Genesis 19:1, Lot sits "in the gate of Sodom." One believer is outside the world as a true pilgrim, with his tent. The other is not only in the world; he takes a share in running it. He sits in the gate — the place of judgment.
Abraham gave his welcome before he knew Who his guests were.
It is plain therefore, that it was not in the least on the ground of previous knowledge, or of social equality. If he had treated the stranger with suspicion, that would have ruled out the whole welcome that God's word records from long ago and urges now. So in faith and love Abraham received into hospitality, not angels only, but Jehovah Himself in the guise of man. Hospitality like this was not meant to be shelved, or merely admired as a virtue of long-ago saints.
- Place — Abraham is at the tent door, not the gate of Sodom; the pilgrim position is what the visit finds.
- Disguise — Two angels and the Lord Himself come as ordinary men. Nothing marks out His majesty, so Abraham must find out Who has come.
- Discernment — He greets One of the three by a title given only to God. Commentators differ on when he knew.
- Response — An old man runs, bows to the ground, and offers water and food. The Bible's first use of the word for worship describes this bow.
- Welcome — Abraham welcomed strangers before he knew Who they were. That kind of hospitality is still asked of us, not just admired from a distance.
and said, Lord, if now I have found favour in thine eyes, pass not away, I pray thee, from thy servant.
Genesis 18 opens with the Lord appearing at Mamre while Abraham sits in his tent door. Abraham speaks his first words to one of them, not to all three — which raises two questions: who was standing there, and how much did he already know?
Abraham sees three visitors standing near him. Two of them turn up again in the next chapter. The third is no ordinary visitor.
Abraham looks up and sees that "three men were standing in front of him." As the story goes on we learn that two were angels. They appear as angels later, in the gate of Sodom (Genesis 19:1). The other, we know, was none less than the LORD Himself, appearing in human form. This points ahead to the time when the Son of God becomes man and lives among people.
The place where Abraham sits is not a small detail. Commentators set his tent door beside the spot where his nephew Lot is found in the next chapter.
The whole contrast rests on where these two men are placed. One is in the door of his tent at Mamre; the other is in the gate of Sodom. In the first we still see the persistent pilgrim. In the second we see a man who has been untrue to his pilgrim life, and has settled down among the pollutions of a sinful world.
One writer takes Abraham's opening word as proof that faith had already seen through the disguise.
Abraham's trained heart knew, under every disguise, the One who stood there. We learn this from the first words he uses to welcome One he has never seen in this form before. "Lord," he says, giving Him a title used for God alone, "if I have found favor in Your sight, do not pass by Your servant."
Commentators differ here. Others hold that Abraham did not yet know, and that he was careful not to break the disguise once he began to suspect.
At this time there seems no reason to suppose that Abraham had any knowledge, or even suspicion, of who it was. We shall find how soon he does work it out and knows it. But he behaves exactly as he should. He would not say it out loud. He does not break through the disguise that Jehovah had chosen to take on.
Abraham asks the visitor not to pass by, and He stays. Why does the Lord accept a welcome like this?
From Genesis 18 we learn the remarkable fact that the Lord seeks the company of those who, appreciating Him, are ready to accept an opportunity to minister to Him. We read, "refresh yourselves… since you have come to your servant." Abraham's moral fitness is most important to note. God had called him out. He obeyed. He lived as a stranger, looking for a city (see Hebrews 11:8-10). And he was circumcised — the flesh put to death (Genesis 17).
Abraham's next offer is water for the visitors' feet.
Here, too, we have the first mention of feet washing in Scripture. Here, as elsewhere, the point of washing feet is to refresh the one whose feet are washed. Abraham has the high privilege of washing the feet of the One who, in years to come, will become flesh. And in the greatness of the love that delights to serve others, He will stoop in grace to wash His poor disciples' feet.
The meal was not the end of the visit. After the welcome came a walk, and then words Abraham had never heard before.
The Lord comes to Abraham as he was sitting at the door of his tent near Hebron. Like one who knew Him well, Abraham rises and worships, and offers to get some refreshment ready for Him… So Abraham enjoys the grace in which he stood. The presence of God is his home… They rise together from under the tree where they shared the meal. As they walk on together, the Lord tells Abraham His secrets.
- Place — Abraham is at his tent door at Mamre, the pilgrim's position; Lot is in the gate of Sodom. Where a person settles decides what kind of visit God pays.
- Person — Three men stand there. Two are angels who reach Sodom in the next chapter. The third is the LORD Himself in human form, pointing ahead to the Son of God coming as man.
- Plea — Abraham addresses one of them by a title given only to God and asks Him not to pass by. Commentators differ on whether he knew at once or only inferred it as the conversation went on.
- Provision — Abraham offers water, rest and food, and the Lord accepts. The Lord looks for the company of those who value Him and are ready to serve Him.
- Privilege — The welcome opens the way to more. The meal ends, they walk on together, and the Lord tells Abraham His secrets.
Let now a little water be fetched, that ye may wash your feet, and rest yourselves under the tree.
Three travellers stop at Abraham's tent in the hottest part of the day. His first words to them are about water, feet, and shade — plain courtesy, yet one of these guests is the Lord Himself.
Washing a guest's feet was the ordinary custom of that part of the world.
Washing the feet was one of the duties of hospitality. The Lord rebukes His host in Luke 7 for neglecting it. See 1 Timothy 5:10. It gave the guest two benefits, I may say. It cleansed the traveller after the dirt of the journey, and refreshed him after the tiredness of it.
The same custom returns at the last supper, with the roles reversed.
It was the custom of the country. If a man invited you to his house, the first thing he would do was provide water for the feet. In Genesis 18:3-4 Abraham did this; in Luke 7 the Lord reproaches Simon because he did not. Here the Lord takes the place of host and provides the water, and He also takes the slave's post and washes their feet.
Abraham had spoken first to one of the travellers. His offer of water reaches all three.
He does not limit himself to the one he first spoke to. He is thinking of what was needed, not only out of courtesy but out of love.
Abraham senses more than he says. He does not force the matter into the open, and that restraint is itself treated as a mark of a spiritual mind.
The mystery here is clearly intentional. Abraham's perception of faith, and his already exercised spiritual mind, are instructive and divine. He knew he was dealing with One who visited him in this way. But until the Lord reveals Himself, Abraham acts towards Him in the way He comes. This was true deference and heavenly fitness. Because of it, he receives the fruit: the Lord's gracious familiarity with him.
The travellers accept the offer of rest. One of them is God Himself.
What lovelier picture do we have in Genesis than the visit of the three strangers to Abraham (Genesis 18:1-8)? He sat at the door of his tent in the heat of the day. The faithful patriarch sees these strangers draw near, and is quick to offer them the hospitality of his home. One of them is the living God; the other two are His angels, whom He will shortly send on other service. The holy God accepts the hospitality offered, and becomes a guest in the tent of Abraham the pilgrim.
Abraham is usually the one receiving from God. Here he gives instead.
Genesis 18 teaches us a remarkable fact. The Lord seeks the company of those who appreciate Him and are ready to take an opportunity to serve Him. Abraham's moral fitness is very important to notice. God had called him out. He was obedient. He lived as a stranger, looking for a city (see Hebrews 11:8-10). He was circumcised — the flesh put to death (Genesis 17).
Abraham offered this service to his guests. The Lord later asks it of His people.
Feet-washing is His own service at heart, yet He often carries it out through others. So He puts us under the obligation, and gives us the privilege, of washing one another's feet. It is a blessed service. It is not done by trying to correct one another (however necessary that is at times), still less by finding fault. It is done by ministering Christ to one another, for only a ministry of Christ will bring refreshment to a weary soul.
Three men came to Abraham's tent. The service cost him a little water and a meal, and what it brought him was far greater.
Their presence stirred him into activity at a time when he would usually have wanted quiet rest. Though three men appeared, it came out afterwards that two were angels and One was the Lord Himself. God rewarded the patriarch richly. He made known to him what He was about to do.
- Water — washing feet was the host's ordinary duty. It cleansed the traveller from the dirt of the road and eased his tiredness.
- Deference — Abraham senses who has come, yet serves Him as He chose to appear. The Lord answers with gracious familiarity.
- Shade — the holy God accepts the invitation to rest and becomes the guest of a man living in a tent.
- Reversal — the Lord looks for the company of people ready to serve Him, not only for people ready to receive from Him.
- Reward — kindness shown to strangers turned out to be kindness shown to God, and God told Abraham what He was about to do.
And I will fetch a morsel of bread; and refresh yourselves; after that ye shall pass on; for therefore have ye passed on towards your servant. And they said, So do as thou hast said.
Abraham offers three passing travelers water, bread and a rest under a tree. One of them turns out to be the Lord Himself. Two questions follow: did Abraham know who his guest was, and what does he mean when he says they had come to him for this very reason?
Note: the ESV says "refresh yourselves." Older translations say "comfort your hearts," and the quotes below use that older wording.
God does not only speak with Abraham here. He accepts his hospitality, and Abraham gains a name from it.
The special privilege here was that God Himself agreed to be the guest of Abraham. More than that, He treats him as His close friend. He stamps on Abraham forever that remarkable title, "the friend of God," which comes from this very chapter.
Commentators differ here. Some read Abraham's words as ordinary courtesy to travelers, with recognition coming later.
At this time there seems no reason to suppose that Abraham had any knowledge, or even suspicion, of who it was. We shall find how soon he does work it out and becomes conscious of it. But his behaviour is exactly right. He would not speak out openly; he does not break the disguise that the Lord chose to take.
Others read his opening words as proof that he had already seen through the disguise.
And Abraham's practiced heart knew, under every disguise, the One who stood there. We learn this plainly from the first words with which he welcomes One whom, in this dress, he has never seen before. "Lord," he says, marking Him out by a title given only to God.
The Lord answers by taking the offer. Abraham had made it without fear.
In beautiful confidence of faith, Abraham meets the One who has come to him as man, and as man gives Him a human welcome. He receives Him as He comes and puts before Him whatever he has — and the Lord accepts without hesitating.
Abraham treats the visit as a chance to serve, not an interruption.
From Genesis 18 we learn the remarkable fact that the Lord seeks the company of those who, valuing Him, are ready to take an opportunity to minister to Him. We read, "comfort your hearts … for this is why you have come to your servant." … Notice his readiness, and his household's too. "He ran," v. 2; "hastened," v. 6; "make ready quickly," v. 6; "ran," v. 7; "hurried to prepare it," v. 7.
The next chapter gives the contrast. Lot also takes guests in, but for a different stated reason.
Lot says the two men had come to his home for protection. Abraham's words in Genesis 18:5 are very different. He understood that his visitors had come to have their hearts comforted by his fellowship.
Abraham lives apart from the world around him. Yet three strangers at his door move him to act.
The most complete separation to the Lord does nothing to hinder the largest and most active kindness — not only to the people of God, but to all men. At this time Abraham did not know who or what his visitors might be. He only saw three men, and his heart went out to them at once.
The promised "morsel of bread" became fine flour and a calf. The food itself carries meaning.
We too can enjoy, in the simplicity of faith, communion with the blessed Lord in what speaks of Himself. These "three measures of fine flour" and the "calf tender and good" speak of none other than Christ Himself. Occupation with Christ is still the essential requirement for communion with Him.
The New Testament points back to this meal when it tells Christians to keep their homes open.
"Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for thereby some have entertained angels unawares" (Hebrews 13:2). … Richly was the patriarch rewarded. God made known to him what He was about to do, having first confirmed the promise of a son by Sarah, fixing now the date of his birth (Genesis 18:10). And when He told Abraham of the coming overthrow of Sodom, He let him plead with Him to spare it if only ten righteous people were found there.
- Saw — three strangers stop at his tent; Abraham does not know who they are, and his heart goes out to them anyway.
- Ran — every verb in the passage is hurry: ran, hastened, quickly, ran, hurried.
- Offered — he promises little, "a morsel of bread," and treats the visit as their errand to him, not his favour to them.
- Served — the fine flour and the calf speak of Christ Himself, and occupation with Christ is what makes such fellowship possible.
- Received — the host ends up the guest: God fixes the date of Isaac's birth, lets Abraham plead for Sodom, and stamps on him the title "friend of God".
And Abraham hastened into the tent to Sarah, and said, Knead quickly three seahs of wheaten flour, and make cakes.
Abraham sits at his tent door in the heat of the day. The visitor he welcomes turns out to be the Lord Himself. Verse 6 is the first move of the meal — one word of urgency to Sarah, and a household turned upside down to feed a guest.
Abraham lived in a tent, not a house. One writer sees the honour God put on that.
It is deeply instructive to see the honour put here on the character and condition of the stranger. In the whole wide world there was just one place where the Lord could accept hospitality and make Himself at home. That place was the tent of a pilgrim and a stranger. The Lord would not honour the splendid halls and princely palaces of Egypt with His presence. No. All His sympathies and affections gathered around the stranger of Mamre. In the middle of an evil world, he was the only man who could be persuaded to take God for his portion.
Here a man gives the Lord a meal. One writer lists what made Abraham fit to serve Him.
Genesis 18 teaches us a remarkable fact. The Lord seeks the company of those who appreciate Him and are ready to take an opportunity to minister to Him. We read, "refresh yourselves … since you have come to your servant." The moral fitness of Abraham is very important to notice. He was called out. He was obedient. He lived as a stranger in the land. He was looking for a city (see Hebrews 11:8-10). He was circumcised — the flesh put to death (Genesis 17). We also see his fitness to meet his Lord's desire in the way he serves and in the food he provides.
Abraham moves quickly, and he tells Sarah to be quick. One writer treats that speed as a mark of faith, and sets it against a different kind of hurry.
Let us not forget, dear Christian readers, that one of the marks of faith is to hurry. Abraham hurried when it was a matter of the Lord's service (Genesis 18:6-8); Zacchaeus did when the Saviour invited him to welcome Him into his house (Luke 19:6); Mary did when the Lord called her to come to Him (John 11:29). If it concerns Him and His Person, can we ever hurry enough? But on the other hand, should we not keep clear of the haste that so often marks the flesh and the old man? "Their feet run to evil, and they make haste to shed blood."
The instruction is homely and practical. Bread of this kind was made fresh, in the house, by the women of the household, exactly for a moment like this.
People made bread from wheat flour, or from wheat and barley mixed, or, if they were poor, from barley only. They usually made it in thin cakes, which could bake very quickly when a visitor arrived. Genesis 18:6; Genesis 19:3; 1 Samuel 28:24.
Commentators read the menu as a picture. The flour is the same fine flour used later in the grain offering, and the amount is not treated as an accident.
First, the three measures of meal tell of Christ personally. The "meal" is not merely that: it is the "fine flour" of the meal offering later on, which we all know represents Him. It is Christ as man, the Bread of life, the food of His people. But then what are the "three measures"? What is the measure of the Man Christ Jesus? Surely nothing less than this: "in Him the whole fullness of deity dwells bodily." Is this not what the number three speaks of — the number of the Trinity, that is, of divine fullness?
The same three measures appear again in one of Jesus' parables, and one writer sets the two scenes side by side.
The three measures of fine meal set out the Person of the Lord as the One in whom all the fullness of the Godhead dwelt. He was God manifest in the flesh. In contrast, the parable in Matthew 13 shows the same three measures of meal mixed through with leaven. That foretells the pollution of this mystery of godliness by the disobedient church.
The same food still draws the Lord in today.
But in fact, if we translate these figures, Abraham has something that may well bring the Lord in to have communion with us, wherever He finds it. These "three measures of fine meal," and this "calf, tender and good" — do you not recognise them? Surely wherever such food is found, the Lord will still keep company there. These things speak of Christ. Occupation with Christ is still the essential and only condition for communion.
- Tent — God passed by palaces and sat down with a man who lived as a stranger. The pilgrim's tent was the one place on earth where He could be at home.
- Quickly — Abraham's rush to Sarah is the energy of faith. Writers commend hurry for the Lord's service, but not hurry for self.
- Table — here a man serves God, instead of God serving him. Writers link Abraham's fitness to serve with his obedience and his life as a stranger.
- Meal — the three measures of fine flour speak of Christ Himself, the fine flour of the grain offering, in whom all the fullness of the Godhead dwells. The same measures come back in Matthew 13, there mixed with leaven.
- Communion — where Christ is the food on the table, the Lord stays for the meal. Occupation with Christ is the one condition of fellowship with Him.
And Abraham ran to the herd, and took a calf tender and good, and gave [it] to the attendant; and he hasted to dress it.
Scripture describes Abraham's meal for his three visitors in unusual detail: the running, the choosing, the handing to a servant. Why record the killing and cooking at all, and what does a calf "tender and good" say to readers today?
The scene looks ordinary from the outside, and that is part of its power. One writer notes that nothing marked these travellers out except to a man who lived close to God.
There was no outward sign, it seems, by which Abraham, or anyone else, could have recognised the presence of the LORD. All that the world would have seen were three men at his tent door. Abraham had the spiritual discernment of a man of faith who walks near to God. So he distinguishes the LORD from the two angels, bows to the ground in reverence, and speaks to Him directly.
The preparations that follow were, on the surface, nothing special. What lifted them was the identity of the visitor.
Outwardly it was simple patriarchal preparation for passing strangers. Some, not forgetting to entertain strangers, have entertained angels without knowing it. It was Abraham's honour to entertain the LORD.
Abraham ran, and the servant hurried. One writer treats that pace as a mark of faith, and sets it beside a warning about the wrong sort of hurry.
Let us not forget, dear Christian readers, that one of faith's characteristics is to hasten. Abraham made haste when it was a matter of the Lord's service (Gen. 18:6-8). Zacchaeus did so when the Saviour invited him to receive Him into his house (Luke 19:6). Mary did so when the Lord called her to come to Him (John 11:29). If it is a matter of Him and of His Person, can we ever hasten enough? But on the other hand, should we not keep ourselves from the haste that so often marks the flesh and the old man? "Their feet run to evil, and they make haste to shed blood."
Commentators read the food itself as a picture of Christ.
The "calf" — not necessarily what the word suggests to us, but a young, fresh animal — reminds us just as clearly of Him who was the true and perfect Workman for God. And here that mystery is told out once more. We saw God begin to press it on man after the flood: life given up must sustain life.
Another writer weighs "tender and good" against the fattened calf in the story of the lost son.
Abraham then calls for a calf tender and good. This speaks of the work of the Lord Jesus and His character as a servant. In Luke 15 a fattened calf is the food of the Father and His now-living son. How precious is the communion suggested there! They feed on the gathered excellencies of the One who so willingly undertook the will of God, even to death. But if Luke gives us the thought of "fattened", in Genesis we have the ideas of tender and good. The order Abraham takes shows spiritual growth: first the meal pictures His Person, then the calf His work, then the milk the riches of the inheritance.
Abraham does not do it all alone. A young man prepares the calf. One writer links that ordered home to what God says about Abraham a few verses later.
In that patriarchal household there was simple, unquestioning, swift and willing obedience everywhere. The Lord delights to visit such homes, for He is a God of order. No wonder then that He, having seen Abraham's well-ordered household, where everybody and everything was in its proper sphere, should say, "Shall I hide from Abraham what I am about to do?"
One writer traces Abraham's actions step by step, then names what he received.
Their arrival stirred him into action at a time when he would normally have wanted quiet rest. He first ran to meet them. Next he hurried to Sarah's tent to order preparations for entertaining them. Then he himself ran to the herd and took a calf to be killed for the meal. After that, when it was ready, he waited on them. Readiness to show hospitality marked him that day. And though three men had appeared, it later came out that two were angels, and One was the Lord Himself. Richly was the patriarch rewarded. God made known to him what He was about to do. First He confirmed the promise of a son by Sarah, and fixed the date of his birth. Then He told Abraham of the coming overthrow of Sodom. He even allowed him to plead with Him to spare it, if only ten righteous people were found in it.
What Abraham had in his tent is what still draws the Lord near.
These "three measures of fine meal," and this "calf, tender and good" — do you not recognise them? Surely the Lord will still keep company wherever such food is found. These things speak of Christ. Being occupied with Christ is still the essential and only requirement for communion.
- Discerned — nothing outward marked the visitors out. Faith living near to God saw the Lord among three travellers.
- Hastened — running to the herd is faith's speed. The same hurry spent on self is the haste Scripture warns against.
- Given — the calf, a fresh young animal, pictures the perfect Workman for God, and life given up to sustain life.
- Shared — Sarah at the flour, a young man at the calf: a whole household in swift obedience, the home God confides in.
- Rewarded — this food still keeps the Lord's company, because being occupied with Christ is the one thing communion needs.
And he took thick and sweet milk, and the calf that he had dressed, and set [it] before them; and he stood before them under the tree, and they ate.
Genesis 18:8 closes a scene of hurried hospitality: Abraham serves the meal and stands by while his guests eat. Everything hangs on who those guests are — one of them is the LORD Himself, and He accepts a man's meal.
Where the ESV reads "curds," older translations say "butter."
This was curdled milk... Curdled milk is a common drink in the East, and when mixed with honey it is very pleasant.
The guests ate. Sharing a table is what people do when they belong together.
Here God comes as near to taking flesh as was possible beforehand. If there is one thing that marks a man as one with others, it is sitting at the same table in social company. This is what the Lord does here. It is one of the very things in which an unbeliever finds enormous difficulty: but what is poison to an unbeliever is the food and joy of faith. Where faith receives it, we rejoice that God is at Abraham's table, sharing his hospitality, with His angels around Him — all in the appearance of men.
Critics have pressed exactly that difficulty:
To this objector, God's gracious closeness and fellowship with Abraham is nothing but a physical question of eating. Yet that closeness won Abraham the glorious title "friend of God." It is astonishing how this way of thinking cheapens everything it touches... Abraham was not yet able to know the high spiritual privileges that God's stooping so low prepared the way for. But in this God did the main thing that was needed. He assured His servant's heart, in a way he could grasp and feel, of His interest in him, His affection and, I may say, His confidence.
Abraham does not shrink back. He welcomes his Guest as He has chosen to come.
The faith that recognises Him entertains Him with the same simplicity. There is none of the unbelieving cry so often heard, "We have seen God, and we shall die." In beautiful confidence of faith he meets Him who has come to him as man, and as man gives Him a human welcome. If He stoops to come this way, Abraham will not say, "Far be it from You, Lord." He receives Him as He comes. He puts before Him whatever he has, and the Lord accepts it without hesitation.
The same writer notes what Abraham did not do first:
I cannot find that Abraham even straightened his clothes before appearing in front of the Lord Almighty. His best and his worst were not so far apart as to make him think of it. There was no getting himself ready to appear before the One who knew him through and through. Just as he was, whatever he was, the love that met him was worth receiving, then and there. It was all the sweeter and more wonderful the more unworthy he was.
Writers read the food itself as a picture.
The calf speaks of Christ in His patient, lowly service, and His blood shed in sacrifice. Milk symbolises the word of God in its simplest form. Butter is the cream of that milk, churned and made solid. So butter pictures the word of God becoming solid and real to someone who is exercised by it. How good such food is! Let us always keep in mind, too, that the heart of God is delighted with whatever speaks to Him of His beloved Son.
The meal is not the end of the visit.
Abraham enjoys the grace in which he stands. The presence of God is his home... But being there, he is ready to take a further walk in the company of his divine Master. And so he does. They rise together from under the tree where the feast was shared; and as they go on together, the Lord tells Abraham His secrets.
This closeness is not locked in the past.
Today we may walk in the still deeper knowledge of God revealed as Father. If we do, is it not possible for believers to enjoy this sweet and intimate fellowship with divine Persons? Not in the particular way the LORD appeared to Abraham. But by the Spirit, who has come from the Father, we can be led into the most blessed communion. We may know little of it, but it can be known.
- He came. God came to Abraham as a man, with His angels around Him, and let Abraham host Him — as near to taking flesh as was possible beforehand.
- He ate. Sitting at the same table marks people as belonging together. What an unbeliever stumbles at, faith feeds on.
- He was received. Abraham did not tidy himself up first. He came just as he was, and love met him there.
- He was fed with Christ. The calf pictures Christ in His lowly service and His blood shed; the milk and curds picture God's word. God's heart delights in whatever speaks to Him of His Son.
- He walked on. They rise from the meal and walk on together, and the Lord tells Abraham His secrets. The Spirit offers that same closeness now.
And they said to him, Where is Sarah thy wife? And he said, Behold, in the tent.
Abraham has just served a meal to three passing strangers. Now they speak first, and they ask about his wife. The question sounds like ordinary politeness. In fact it opens the promise of a son, and it shows Abraham who his guest really is.
Nothing so far has looked unusual. This question is the turning point: Abraham stops serving a stranger and knows whom he is serving.
Outwardly it was simple preparation for passing strangers. Some people have welcomed strangers and, without knowing it, have entertained angels. It was Abraham's honour to entertain Jehovah. In due time he hears the question put to him, which I think is the point where he enters into the spirit of the divine action: "Where is Sarah your wife?" … Could Abraham be ignorant any longer whose voice this was? Even so, Abraham does not speak before the right time. If Jehovah was pleased to appear there with two of His servants, and to put them in the ordinary form of men, it was certainly not for the faithful to break the silence Jehovah kept.
The question is not for information. It sets up the promise that follows, and that promise belongs to her as much as to Abraham. The writer quotes that promise from an older translation, which says, "I will certainly return."
The Lord uses this moment of holy closeness to confirm Abraham's faith. He assures him that his son will be born. This concerns Sarah, so the LORD asks, "Where is Sarah your wife?" Then the LORD says, "I will certainly return to you at this time of the year; and look, Sarah your wife shall have a son." Only a Divine Person could have spoken like that. From anyone else it would have been mere presumption. We cannot count on a single day. God can say, "I will certainly return."
Sarah is out of sight, but she is within hearing. One writer reads the question as a deliberate way of making her listen.
But the Lord had a message for Sarah too. He asks Abraham where she was. He surely meant this to catch Sarah's attention, especially when He named her (v. 9). So she understood well what the Lord then said to Abraham.
Abraham's short answer places her indoors, out of sight. Yet she is the one the visitors ask for.
But we return to Sarah, for she, not Abraham, is just now the sweet and attractive object of our attention. She stayed modestly and quietly inside the tent. That did not rob her of the attention and honour given by her heavenly master and His two companions.
Others draw a practical lesson from where Sarah is found, and set it against how the same choice is judged today.
Many women say, "This does not satisfy me. Why should I stay at home? My career is out there." … Genesis, the book of beginnings, gives us an example in chapter 18 where we read of Abraham's three visitors. We find him outside the tent when they visit, but Sarah is inside, because that was her place.
The promise reaches Sarah, and she is no longer simply in the tent. She listens behind the door. Kelly finds that place out of keeping with Abraham's openness before God.
But the one most closely concerned did not have Abraham's sense of God's presence. Her heart was not as ready for it. … We hear of her during this conversation behind the door. I dare say she ought not to have been there, but there she was. She was where she should not have been. Need we wonder that she gave way to feelings that little suited her? She laughed in doubt of the word. Could any of us imagine Abraham behind a door? Was there not a simple dignity in him that could never hide and listen behind a door?
Von Poseck's stress falls elsewhere — on how the New Testament remembers her.
Sarah then betrays her weakness of faith in Him for whom nothing is too hard, and receives a gentle rebuke from the Lord for her unbelief. But I find something wonderfully beautiful here. Scripture never mentions Sarah's failure. It is not in that most instructive eleventh chapter of Hebrews, where Sarah has obtained a good report. It is not in that beautiful passage in Peter's first letter either. And why? … because Sarah's obedience was that "of a meek and quiet spirit"; it was an obedience of the heart.
- Recognised. The guest asks for Sarah by name. From that question on, Abraham could not be ignorant whose voice he was hearing.
- Included. The promise concerns Sarah, so the Lord names Sarah. The question brings her into the announcement of the son.
- Overheard. The Lord asked Abraham, but He meant Sarah to hear. The word about the son reached the one who had to believe it.
- Honoured. Her quiet place inside the tent did not hide her from her visitors. They asked for her, and they honoured her.
- Remembered. She laughed in unbelief, and the Lord gently rebuked her. Yet Hebrews and Peter's first letter record her good report and her meek and quiet spirit, not her failure.
And he said, I will certainly return to thee at [this] time of the year, and behold, Sarah thy wife shall have a son. And Sarah was listening at the tent-door, which was behind him.
Three visitors have eaten at Abraham's tent, and now one of them makes a promise with a date on it: a son for a couple far too old to have children. Two questions follow. Who is this speaker? And can Sarah's worn-out body stop what He says?
The Lord opens by asking where Sarah is. One writer sees this question as the moment Abraham entered into what God was doing.
On the surface it was simple, ordinary hospitality for passing strangers. Some people, you know, welcoming strangers, have welcomed angels without knowing it. It was Abraham's honour to welcome the LORD. In time he hears the question put to him. That, I think, is the point where he enters into the spirit of what God is doing: "Where is Sarah your wife?" And He said, "I will surely return to you about this time next year, and Sarah your wife shall have a son." Could Abraham still not know whose voice this was?
God aimed the question past Abraham at the listener inside the tent. Naming her was how He caught her ear.
He asks Abraham where she is, surely meaning to catch Sarah's attention, especially by naming her (v. 9). So she understood well what the Lord said to Abraham.
The promise of a son is remarkable, but the opening clause is the giveaway. No traveller can guarantee his own return.
The Lord uses this moment of holy closeness to strengthen Abraham's faith. He assures him that his son will be born... For anyone but a Divine Person to speak that way would have been sheer presumption. We cannot count on a single day. God can say, "I will surely return." So the LORD's own words settle Abraham's faith. And the Lord still delights to steady our trembling hearts with the sure word of the One who can say, "I will." "I will come again and will take you to myself." "I will not leave you as orphans; I will come to you" (John 14:3, 18).
Older translations read "according to the time of life" where the ESV has "about this time next year." Long years of waiting now shrink to a fixed date.
"I will surely return to you." Was this lost on Abraham? Certainly not — all the more now that his long-held hope is about to enjoy a promise that is specific and, I might say, dated. If it seemed vague before, from then on it was clear and defined.
Abraham and Sarah hear identical words. What separates them is not information but their sense of who is speaking.
Abraham hears this great promise fully aware of the glory of the One who speaks. So he shows no surprise, raises no objections, and voices no doubt. Sarah stands in sharp contrast. Her faith and discernment do not match her husband's. She hears the words, but she has little sense of the glory of the Speaker. She doubts them because of what she finds in herself.
Sarah's doubt is not crushed. The Lord answers it with a question, and in the end she comes to the faith she lacked.
Sarah was now to be tested. The promise of a son came where she could hear it. She laughed too, but she thought her laugh was hidden from others. It clearly held unbelief in it, so she tried to deny it. The Lord knew, however. Her unbelieving question only drew from Him the great question, "Is anything too hard for the LORD?" Nothing was too hard, for He had lately revealed Himself to her husband as "God Almighty," though she had not yet grasped it... and later Sarah did grasp it, or we would not have the words: "By faith Sarah herself received power to conceive" (Heb. 11:11).
This sentence is picked up centuries later to settle an argument about who really counts as Abraham's family.
With Isaac we see the blessing secured on the principle of God's own sovereign choice and grace, for the word is, "Through Isaac shall your offspring be named." Ishmael was the child of the flesh, but Isaac was the child of promise. The words "About this time next year I will return, and Sarah shall have a son" make it perfectly plain that this promise came by sovereign grace.
Later Scripture revisits this same tent scene — and leaves something out.
Sarah shows here how weak her faith is in Him, for Whom nothing is too hard, and the Lord gently rebukes her unbelief. But I find something very beautiful in a simple fact. The eleventh chapter of the letter to the Hebrews says nothing at all about Sarah's failure, and neither does that lovely passage in the first letter of the apostle Peter.
- Promise: The Lord puts a date on a hope that had long been vague — "specific and, I might say, dated."
- Person: Only God can promise His own return. The same "I will" comes back in "I will come again and will take you to myself."
- Problem: Sarah measures the promise by what she finds in herself, and laughs. Abraham measures it by who is speaking, and stays quiet.
- Power: Her doubt draws out the question that answers it — "Is anything too hard for the LORD?" — and she is later listed among those who believed.
- Principle: This promise, not natural descent, marks out Abraham's true family. Isaac was the child of promise.
Now Abraham and Sarah were old [and] advanced in age it had ceased to be with Sarah after the manner of women.
Genesis 18:11 drops a medical fact into the middle of a promise: nature had shut the door on children for Abraham and Sarah. Everything that follows — Sarah's laugh, the Lord's question in verse 14, the birth of Isaac — turns on it.
"The way of women" means the monthly cycle. For Sarah it had stopped, and with it every natural hope of a child. Commentators see that closed door as the ground God chose to work on. The son would be His gift, not a human achievement.
God's purpose, or secret, or covenant, rested on resurrection. It rested on setting aside the flesh in its strength and resources. It rested on doing something beyond and above nature. That is the same thing as resurrection — life given to Sarah's dead and powerless body. And so Isaac is born out of the dead bodies of Abraham and Sarah.
Sarah listened from behind the tent door and drew her own conclusion. Her mistake was the direction she looked.
She hears what is said, but has little sense of the glory of the Speaker. She doubts what is said because of what she finds in herself. She is old and her body is worn out. So she argues that what the Lord has said cannot come true. In her heart she laughs in unbelief at the very idea of having a son.
Another writer names what she was looking at, and what her unbelief drew from God:
Sarah's laughter when the son is promised to her is the laughter of unbelief. She looked to her womb, which was a grave. Her laughter became the occasion of that wonderful word the Lord spoke: "Is anything too hard for the LORD?"
The Lord answered Sarah with a question of His own. One writer treats it as the standing answer to every difficulty.
He was on the other side of the door. He soon showed that no door could keep Him from knowing what passed in Sarah's heart, or where she was. How surprising it must have been to her, and how sharp the rebuke, though it was given without a harsh word! "Is anything too hard for the LORD?" How good it is to train ourselves in this one answer to every difficulty! This is why we are called to walk by faith, not by sight. God never intended a Christian, or His church, to be exempt from difficulties.
The question had a history behind it and a result ahead of it.
Nothing was too hard. He had just revealed Himself to her husband as "God Almighty," though she had not yet grasped it. Jeremiah grasped it in his day (Jer. 32:17), and in time Sarah did too, or we would not have the statement: "By faith Sarah herself received power to conceive" (Heb. 11:11).
Abraham faced the same facts as Sarah. He did not build on them.
The promise of God was beyond hope, and contrary to it, if he reasoned from himself and Sarah. Yet he believed in hope, because God had declared that he would have offspring as many as the stars and the sand. Faith reasons from God and His word, not from self or circumstances.
Genesis does not leave Sarah where verse 11 finds her. When the child came she laughed again — the same act, a different source.
So Isaac's birth was the occasion of joy, as his very name implies. Sarah laughed no more in unbelief, as she once had (Gen. 18:12-15), but with gladness of heart, sharing it with all who hear of the goodness of the Lord. It is a lovely witness to the power of grace when faith gives the victory in what had been one's weakness, and sin, and shame.
One writer weighs what came of her trust:
Here is fruit beyond calculation, and certainly beyond the limits of Sarah's own hopes. Natural hope was dead, so that long before this she had given up any such expectation. In this way God teaches that He alone is the true Resource of His saints. The fruit of faith's submission is far greater than it appears at the time, or perhaps for years afterwards.
- Dead first. The verse records the end of natural possibility on purpose. God's covenant rested on setting the flesh aside and doing what only He can do.
- Looking inward. Sarah's laugh came from measuring the promise by herself instead of by the glory of the One speaking.
- One answer. "Is anything too hard for the LORD?" is the settled reply to every difficulty. We are called to walk by faith, not by sight.
- Reasoning from God. Abraham faced the same facts and still believed. Faith reasons from God's word, never from self or circumstances.
- Fruit beyond hope. The unbelieving laugh became a laugh of joy. Sarah's trust bore fruit beyond counting.
And Sarah laughed within herself, saying, After I am become old, shall I have pleasure, and my lord old?
Visitors are at Abraham's tent, and the Lord promises him a son. Sarah, listening inside, answers with a laugh nobody else could hear — and with words spoken only in her heart. Two questions follow: what was wrong with that laugh, and what was right in the words that went with it?
Abraham and Sarah heard the same promise. One writer sets their two responses side by side:
Abraham hears this great promise, and he fully realises the glory of the One who is speaking. So he expresses no astonishment, raises no difficulties, and expresses no doubt. In sharp contrast, Sarah's faith and discernment are not equal to her husband's. She hears the words, but has little sense of the glory of the Speaker. She doubts them because of what she finds in herself. She is old and her body is worn out. So she argues that what the Lord has said cannot come true. In her heart she laughs in unbelief at the very suggestion of having a son.
She laughed "to herself." That was the whole point of it — and it failed:
Sarah was now to be tested, and the announcement of the birth of a son came where she could hear it. Her response was also a laugh, but one she thought nobody else knew about. It clearly did have an element of unbelief in it, since she tried to deny it. It was known to the Lord, however. Sarah's unbelieving question only drew from Him the great question, "Is anything too hard for the LORD?" Nothing was too hard. He had recently revealed Himself to her husband as "God Almighty," though she had not yet grasped it. Sarah did grasp it in time, or we would not have the statement: "By faith Sarah herself received power to conceive" (Hebrews 11:11).
Sarah calls Abraham "my lord." This verse is where that Hebrew word first appears in the Bible:
Adon (lord) first occurs in Genesis 18:12, where Sarah speaks of Abraham as "her lord." And 1 Peter 3:6 says, "as Sarah obeyed Abraham, calling him lord." This sense is acknowledged deference to the one addressed. The superiority may belong to a position within a relationship, as of a husband addressed by a wife, or of a servant to a master, or of a subject to a king. That is the common use.
The setting proves the sincerity. Nobody was meant to hear this:
It is clear from these words that Sarah's words as well as her laughter were within herself, that is, not spoken aloud. So Sarah's words "my lord," used of her husband, were not said out loud at the time. She only said them inside herself. What a proof, then! With her those words were not a meaningless confession of the lips. They came from the thoroughly submissive and obedient heart of a truly godly wife.
Read Genesis alone and Sarah looks like a failure here. Yet Hebrews lists her among people of faith. One writer faces the gap directly:
It is only in Hebrews 11 that we find mention of Sarah's faith. You look in vain in the Old Testament narrative for any evidence of faith on her part. How good it is to remember that God's eye can detect what we cannot! ... She laughed; and when the Lord spoke to her, she denied it. So the two things that marked her at that time were unbelief and untruthfulness. This seems most unpromising soil for any plant of faith to grow in; and yet God could see there the elements of a faith which in His sight was of great price.
Sarah's story does not end at the tent door. When the child arrives, the same word comes back with the opposite meaning. The older translation this writer used ends the verse "will laugh with me," and that is the sense he draws from it:
"And Sarah said, God has made laughter for me; everyone who hears will laugh over me." She had laughed at first when Jehovah announced the set time for her to become a mother. She added the shame of untruth when charged with it (Genesis 18). But here grace changes everything. God, she owns, made her laugh now. It was no longer within herself, but from Him; and others who heard would share her joy.
- Inward. Sarah's laugh was silent and meant to stay silent. She weighed the promise by her own worn-out body, not by the glory of the One speaking.
- Inward, but heard. The Lord knew the laugh she thought was hidden, and her denial afterwards exposed the unbelief in it.
- Inward, and honest. She said "my lord" only in her heart. So it proves real submission, not a polite phrase for other people's ears.
- Inward, and sifted. Unbelief and untruthfulness marked her. Yet God's eye saw faith of great price there, and He recorded it.
- Inward turned outward. The private laugh of doubt became public joy at Isaac's birth. God made her laugh, and those who heard shared her joy.
And Jehovah said to Abraham, Why is this, that Sarah laughs, saying, Shall I indeed bear, when I am become old?
Commentary for this verse has not been generated yet.
Is [any] matter too wonderful for Jehovah? At the time appointed I will return to thee, at [this] time of the year, and Sarah shall have a son.
A visitor at Abraham's tent has promised a son to a couple far too old for children. Sarah, listening behind the door, laughed. The reply she gets is not an argument but a question, and everything turns on who is asking it.
No one tells Abraham who his guest is. He hears it in the wording of the promise — words no ordinary man could use.
Perhaps it was then that the first word, showing the divine power of Him who chose to be there, fell on Abraham's attentive ear. "I will surely return to you." It does not suit man to talk of surely returning. Was this lost on Abraham? Of course not. His long-cherished hope was now to enjoy a promise with a stated and, I may say, dated fulfilment: "I will surely return to you about this time next year, and Sarah your wife shall have a son." If it seemed vague before, it was now clear and fixed.
Husband and wife hear the same sentence and react in opposite ways. The difference is not information but the weight each of them gives to the One speaking.
Abraham hears this great promise with a full sense of the glory of the One who speaks. So he shows no astonishment, raises no objections, and expresses no doubt. In sharp contrast, Sarah's faith and discernment are not equal to her husband's. She hears the words, but has little sense of the glory of the Speaker. She doubts them because of what she finds in herself... She is rebuked for her unbelief, and Abraham is reminded that nothing is too hard for the Lord, however impossible the promise looks on natural ground.
The question was not new truth. God had already given Abraham a name for Himself that answered it, and Sarah caught up later.
Sarah's unbelieving question only drew from Him the great question, "Is anything too hard for the LORD?" Nothing was too hard. He had just revealed Himself to her husband as "the Almighty God," though she had not grasped it yet. Jeremiah grasped it in his day (Jer. 32:17), and Sarah soon did too. Otherwise we would not read: "By faith Sarah herself received power to conceive" (Heb. 11:11).
The same challenge comes to Jeremiah, who buys a field in land the enemy already holds. He and Sarah stumble at the same point.
"Is anything too hard for the Lord?" is the Lord's challenge to Jeremiah on that occasion, as it is to Sarah in Genesis 18. Sarah did not know how she could have a child, for her body was then dead. She did not know the resurrection-strength of God. Jeremiah was spending his money on a piece of ground then held by the enemy. He did not know how he could ever get its value back, for, like Sarah, he did not know the resurrection-strength of God.
Power is only half the promise. The Lord also fixes the date, and the birth record shows He kept it.
Everything on man's side having broken down, we learn that the "set time of which God had spoken" has come and the promised heir is born. He is called Isaac, meaning "laughter"... Everything takes place in God's set time, and according to God's Word.
Sarah's laugh was silent, and she thought no one heard it. What follows exposes a second failure and names its cause.
But Sarah laughed in her disbelief. Then, once found out, she denied it: "I did not laugh." She denied it for the same reason that some of us may have had to blame ourselves for something no better. "She was afraid!" How often these sad departures from the truth come from nothing but a lack of moral courage! One thing would train the soul in unflinching and most careful truthfulness. It is what Abraham cultivated and Sarah failed in: being at home in the presence of God day by day.
Scripture's later verdict on Sarah mentions none of this. That silence is deliberate, and it turns the Lord's question into an invitation.
But all this makes the grace of God so marked and cheering. We find her early failures entirely forgotten, and only the later triumph recorded here. What undeniable proof that He loves to speak well of His own! "Is anything too hard for the LORD?" He overturned all the thoughts and reasonings of her mind. Her doubts and her evasions deepened her self-judgment. His own word carried its own convincing light. From then on she "considered Him faithful who had promised." May we not ask, Is anything too good for the Lord?
- Nothing hidden — Sarah laughed to herself, and He answered that laugh. Then fear pushed her into denial, a failure that came from not living in God's presence.
- Nothing too hard — the answer to the question is a name. He had already shown Himself to Abraham as the Almighty, and His strength is resurrection strength.
- Nothing vague — "I will surely return" is language no man can use. The promise moved from open-ended to dated.
- Nothing early — Isaac arrives at "the set time of which God had spoken," so power and timing are both His.
- Nothing too good — the record drops Sarah's doubts and keeps only her faith. So the question can be turned round and asked of His grace.
And Sarah denied, saying, I did not laugh; for she was afraid. And he said, No; but thou didst laugh.
Sarah laughed to herself behind the tent door. Then the Lord named that laughter out loud, and she denied it. Why would a woman standing this close to God's promise lie about what she felt?
The verse gives the reason for her lie: she was afraid. That failure is not hers alone.
But Sarah laughed in her disbelief. Then, convicted, she denied it, saying, "I did not laugh." She denied it for the same reason that some of us may have had to blame ourselves for doing the same. "She was afraid!" How often these sad departures from the truth come from nothing but the lack of moral courage! One thing trains the soul to be truthful without flinching: being at home in the presence of God, day after day. That is what Abraham cultivated, and what Sarah failed in.
Her laughter and her lie grow from one root.
There is also the laughter of unbelief. It fills our mouths when God's promises are too great for our narrow hearts to take in. Or when the visible means look too small, in our judgement, to carry out His grand designs... "But Sarah denied it, saying, 'I did not laugh,' for she was afraid." Unbelief makes us cowards and liars; faith makes us bold and truthful.
Her denial had a grain of truth in it. She had laughed in her heart, not out loud. That defence is what fails.
Charged with her unbelief, Sarah is ashamed to own the truth. As so often, fear of consequences leads to lying and deceit. She "denied, saying, I did not laugh." It may have been true that she did not laugh aloud. But she laughed in her heart. She has to learn that she is in the presence of One who can read the heart and see behind tent doors.
The God who reads the hidden heart does more than expose it.
As soon as Sarah knew that God could see her heart, she was afraid and said that she did not laugh. Such a lie is no use before God. So He said, "No, but you did laugh." Oh, friends! please remember that God can see your inner hearts. Yet He loves you. He wants to take away your sins and to give you everlasting life.
He contradicts her to her face. One writer weighs what that cost her afterwards.
In this particular case there was a lesson to be taught, and so God does not pass it by. He does not allow Sarah to simply say, "I did not laugh." So He says, "No, but you did laugh." His unmistakable voice brings the sin home. Oh, what a thought for Sarah afterwards, and how humbling! Not only did she lie — she dared to lie to God Himself. And her one meeting with Him left her this to reflect on! It was the last word that passed between her and God Himself.
Yet God corrects her with patience, and the lesson holds.
What a God we have to do with! What patience, long-suffering, goodness! and this with (not merely a human being, but) a child of His! And His way is to let a word from Him act on her conscience. Never do we hear of any repetition of the evil on Sarah's part. It was a lesson not to be forgotten, yet how gracious!
Here Sarah's record is unbelief and lying. God saw something else in her.
The heavenly visitors came to the door of Abraham's tent. Sarah was listening behind the door to the astounding promise the Lord was giving to Abraham... She laughed; and when the Lord spoke to her, she denied it. So the two things that marked her at that time were unbelief and untruthfulness. This seems most unpromising soil for any plant of faith to grow in. Yet God could see there the makings of a faith that in His sight was of great price.
What God later recorded of her shows how He treats the failures of His own.
All this makes the grace of God stand out and cheer us. He completely forgets these early failures, and records only the later triumph here. How undeniable the proof that He loves to speak well of His own!... Her doubts, her evasions, deepened her self-judgment. His own word carried its own convincing light. From then on she counted the One who had promised to be faithful.
- Fear. The verse names the motive itself: she lied because she was afraid. Departures from truth often come from nothing worse than a lack of moral courage.
- Cover. She had not laughed aloud, so her denial had cover. It still failed before One who reads the heart and sees behind tent doors.
- Confrontation. God will not let the half-truth stand. He answers her outright, and His own unmistakable voice brings the sin home.
- Grace. The rebuke carries no harsh word, and the evil is never repeated. His way is to let one word from Him act on the conscience.
- Record. Unbelief and lying looked like unpromising soil. Yet God kept only the later triumph on record — He loves to speak well of His own.
And the men rose up thence, and looked toward Sodom; and Abraham went with them to conduct them.
The meal at Mamre is over, the three visitors stand up, and their faces turn toward the city where Abraham's nephew lives. A host walks his guests a little way down the road. That short walk opens the door into God's plans for judgment.
Abraham does not just receive his guests. He walks with them. One writer contrasts that with the polite generosity of an important man.
Here is another beautiful feature in Abraham, which also had its reward. His was not a mere hospitality that receives like a patron without going any further. In Abraham there was nothing of what we may call the condescension of a great man. We can scarcely call that true hospitality, or at least Christian hospitality... Genuine humility was there. With it came an unmistakable dignity of character, and no less true kindness, and lowly, persevering love. So he stays close to their steps, and no wonder. It was not merely a ready heart for a stranger. He felt the glory of his visitors, and of One among them especially.
This look is not a casual glance. God looks at a place before He acts against it.
It is not simply that everything is under the eye of God, which is always true, but this is the look that comes before judgment. The Lord came down to see before the judgment at Babel. Again He looked toward Sodom before its destruction (Gen. 18:16); and again we read that the Lord looked on the host of the Egyptians before their overthrow (Ex. 14:24).
Yet the approach to the city comes in stages. Those stages show God's patience.
God waits and bears long with the wickedness of men, but He is not indifferent to sin. It cries out to Him until at last it is ripe for judgment. But even so, the Lord is slow to judge. First we read of the two angels that they "looked down toward Sodom" (v. 16). Then they "went toward Sodom" (v. 22). Finally, "the two angels came to Sodom in the evening" (Gen. 19:1).
Abraham sets out beside men on an errand of judgment, and that shared road is where God begins to speak.
The Lord directed them in judgment, and Abraham went with them to show them the way. He is here the companion of the Lord and the confidant of His thoughts. And to us the Lord is not only the eternal spring of blessing to our souls, but He makes His saints His companions; not always, it is true, but still He does so. He makes us His companions by what He tells us. There is no happier or surer way to show love to someone than to share your thoughts and feelings with them.
Another writer notes what changes once the guests rise.
But now the Lord has spoken that word of present fulfilment, and they rise up to go on their way. Now the Lord will deal with Abraham as a man deals with his friend. He speaks with Abraham about what did not concern himself but the world. It is not Abraham's needs, or even Abraham's walk, but the intention of God which He would have him know... It is communion, personal fellowship with God about what concerns Himself and His ways.
Abraham walks toward the doomed city with nothing of his own at stake there.
"Abraham went with them to set them on their way." That was all. He was entirely apart from the judgment about to fall on Sodom.
Lot, not Abraham, was the man with everything at stake in Sodom. Yet see who was told.
Here Abraham is seen as "the friend of God." "The servant does not know what his lord does." But the Lord told Abraham what He was about to do to Sodom. Lot was the one most deeply affected by that solemn event, yet he knew nothing of it.
The party that rises here will soon divide. Notice who deals with Abraham, and who deals with Lot.
One thing has struck me. Messages from angels never teach or help Abraham. The Lord Himself teaches him, or, what amounts to the same thing, the angel of the Lord does. But contact with Lot comes only through angels. So with the destruction of Sodom: the Lord appeared to Abraham, and the Lord spoke to Abraham. Only two angels visited Lot.
- The walk — Abraham's hospitality did not stop at the tent door. He stayed close to his guests' steps, and that persevering love had its reward.
- The look — before God acts in judgment, He looks: at Babel, at Sodom, at Egypt's army.
- The pace — looked down toward Sodom, then went toward Sodom, then came to Sodom in the evening. God is not indifferent to sin, but He is slow to judge.
- The confidence — as the Lord's companion, Abraham became the confidant of His thoughts. He heard about God's plans for the world, not about his own needs.
- The contrast — the friend outside the city hears everything, and hears it from the Lord Himself. The man inside learns nothing until angels shake him awake.
And Jehovah said, Shall I hide from Abraham what I am doing?
Judgment is about to fall on Sodom. Before it does, God pauses and asks whether He should keep His plan from Abraham, who stands outside the city with Him.
The question assumes a relationship. One writer shows what kind by comparing two ways of talking.
Through this faith we have fellowship with God, with the Father, and with His Son Jesus Christ our Lord. He is not ashamed to call us His friends, as Abraham was called the friend of God. In business with the world, we say what has to be said about the matter in hand, as politely as we can. Once that is said, it is finished. With a friend, we open our minds. We speak of things that have nothing to do with business, of everything that is in our hearts. When Abraham was called the friend of God, God was not talking with him about the promises made to him. He was telling him all His intentions about the judgment of Sodom and Gomorrah.
Notice what God shares. It is news about a city Abraham has nothing to do with.
So the Lord makes His ways and thoughts known to Abraham, as a man would to his friend. He reveals secrets to him that do not concern him. If they did concern him, Abraham would in a sense have a right to hear them, and the Lord would surely tell him. But he has no personal interest in the matters communicated. They are the Lord's thoughts and purposes about a city and a people Abraham had no contact with whatever. They were strangers to him and he to them — and that quite deliberately. So the Lord now deals with Abraham as a friend — not even as a disciple, much less as a sinner, but as a friend.
God then gives His reason, and it is a household one.
Here it is not a question of salvation, but of communion with the mind and purposes of God. Let Christian parents notice and seriously weigh this. When God was looking for a man to whom He could disclose His secret counsels, He chose one marked by the simple trait of "commanding his children and his household."
Another writer sees the same trait linking Abraham to a whole line of men God spoke to in advance.
Do we not also see the connection between the man of God and the prophet? Men of God was their standing title, and Abraham too is called "a prophet." Amos says, "For the Lord GOD does nothing without revealing his secret to his servants the prophets." To be with God is the way to see into the reality of things — even of the world itself.
Knowing God's plan does not leave Abraham a spectator. It turns into prayer for others.
Abraham enjoys the most intimate communion with the LORD, who reveals His counsels to him as to His friend. Intercession is the fruit of this revelation. Judgment falls on the world. Abraham stands on the top of the mountain and talks with God about the judgment that was to fall on the world below, where he was not. Lot had taken his place in that world, and he is saved, but only as through fire.
God holds no such conversation with Lot. One writer gives the reason.
Lot could not intercede with God as Abraham did. He did not know what it was to draw near to God. He was too deeply caught up in Sodom's affairs to have communion with God. We cannot intercede with God on behalf of wrongdoers unless we are separate from them and know the intimacy of communion with God.
One writer treats God's question as a standing principle, not a one-off favour, and applies it to what God has told us about the future.
Man is naturally a great planner for the future down here. Knowing God's plan for the future is a fine antidote to man's planning and plans. And "Shall I hide from Abraham what I am about to do?" contains one of God's ways in His dealings with the members of the household of faith, as much as with the father of the faithful. If the things which must soon take place are known to you and stay with you, the flesh will be judged. The world will be spoiled for you, and the very hope of the coming glory will break its gripping power over the natural mind.
- Friendship. God speaks to Abraham the way a person speaks to a friend, not the way we handle business. He opens His mind about matters that do not concern Abraham at all.
- Ground. God's reason is that Abraham will command his children and household after him. The issue is not salvation but who can be trusted with God's counsels.
- Height. Abraham hears because he is outside Sodom, on the mountain. Lot settled inside, and he gets no such visit — God only rescues him.
- Fruit. The secret turns into intercession. Knowing what God is doing makes Abraham plead for others instead of watching.
- Reach. One writer applies the same question to us. God still tells His friends what He is about to do, and that knowledge loosens the world's hold.
Since Abraham shall indeed become a great and mighty nation; and all the nations of the earth shall be blessed in him.
God is about to destroy Sodom. First He asks whether He should hide the plan from Abraham, and the reason He gives is the promise He had made to him.
Commentators point to the difference between a servant and a friend.
The heavenly visitors set out toward Sodom, and Abraham went with them for some distance. That led to the incident in which we see Abraham as the friend of God. A mere servant does not know what his Lord is doing, as the Lord showed in John 15:15. A friend, though, has access to things kept secret from others.
Friendship shows in what people talk about. Notice what God chose to talk about here — not Abraham's own affairs.
In business with the world, we say what has to be said about the matter in hand, as politely as we can. Once that is said, it is over. With a friend, we open our minds. We speak of things that have nothing to do with business, of everything that is in our hearts. When Abraham was called the friend of God, God was not talking with him about the promises made to him. He was telling him all He intended to do in the judgment of Sodom and Gomorrah.
This is not a new promise. It is one link in a chain that runs through Abraham's life, and the chain has a destination.
God gave the promise of blessing when His call first reached Abraham. That is in Genesis 12:3. Then in Genesis 18:18 He confirms it to him. Again, in Genesis 22:16-18 He enlarges the promise, and we find that it will be carried out through "the Seed," who is Christ... Once the Seed is introduced, He is never left out, because everything in the way of fulfilment depends on Him.
The promise has two halves. One is about a nation. The other reaches past that nation to everyone.
He was given the privilege not only of becoming a great nation, but also of being the forefather of the Messiah, in whom all the nations would be blessed.
The blessing travels in a set order, and much of it is still future.
God gave the promise to Abraham, and He will carry it out in his seed on earth in days to come. "I will make of you a great nation … and in you all the families of the earth shall be blessed." Here room is left for blessing to go out to the Gentiles. But note this: they are to be blessed in Abraham, and afterwards in his seed.
Later Scripture tells us what God was doing through this promise.
We know the use that the Spirit of God makes of this promise. He says, "The Scripture, foreseeing that God would justify the Gentiles by faith, preached the gospel beforehand to Abraham, saying, 'In you shall all the nations be blessed'" (Galatians 3:8). Abraham did not, and could not, foresee how far the faith he acted on would reach when he answered God's call. But God foresaw that it was the one way of blessing for all the families of the earth. So now, in our small measure, only God can foresee how far the blessing to others may reach when one soul answers the call of God in simple, whole-hearted faith.
God's reason was an ordinary one: the way Abraham ran his own home.
This is not a question of salvation, but of sharing the mind and purposes of God. Let the Christian parent notice this fact and weigh it. When God was looking for a man to whom He could reveal His secret counsels, He chose one who had this simple mark: he was "commanding his children and his household."
Abraham could have used this nearness to God for his own advantage. He did not.
So he did not spare a thought for himself or his house. Like a true man of faith, he used his place in the presence of God to plead for a brother — a man whose love of the world had plunged him into the very middle of the place that God was about to give over to everlasting destruction.
- Friendship — a master does not tell a servant his plans. God told Abraham, because He treated him as a friend.
- Promise — Genesis 18:18 confirms what God first said in Genesis 12:3. Later chapters name "the Seed," who is Christ, as the one who carries it out.
- Reach — the blessing travels in order. Abraham first, then his seed, then all the families of the earth.
- Reason — God chose a man who commanded his own household. The door into His secret counsels was faithfulness at home, not high position.
- Result — Abraham used his nearness to God to plead for someone else in danger, not to secure his own future.
For I know him that he will command his children and his household after him, and they shall keep the way of Jehovah, to do righteousness and justice, in order that Jehovah may bring upon Abraham what he hath spoken of him.
God has just promised Abraham a son. Now, on the road toward Sodom, He asks Himself whether to tell His friend what He is about to do. The reason He gives is not Abraham's greatness but his home.
The phrase does not mean God had gathered information about Abraham. It carries warmth, and it explains why the coming judgment on Sodom was disclosed to a man rather than kept among angels.
"For I know him": was that ever said about Lot? It would have had a sorrowful meaning in Lot's case; it has a blessed one in Abraham's. For this is the knowledge of approval, of divine delight. It is the knowledge that prepared the way for Jehovah to trust him with His secrets. Abraham was the one to whom He could tell what no angel knew. Only the angels who had their orders from Him knew, and they were about to carry out His judgment.
God let one man into His plans, and the reason He gives is plain and ordinary. Notice what He did not name.
Here it is not a question of salvation, but of communion with the mind and purposes of God. Christian parents should note and weigh this. When God was seeking out a man to whom He could disclose His secret counsels, He chose one with the simple mark of "commanding his children and his household."
The word "command" can sound like barking orders. What God notices in Abraham runs deeper than that.
More than this, the Lord knew Abraham well, and knew that Abraham would command his children and his household. This is just what God Himself does. Great numbers of people, by contrast, act irresponsibly in so serious a matter. And Abraham did not merely give orders to his children. His character and conduct were such that they respected him.
A household in Abraham's day included servants as well as children. The verse covers all of them, and it does not wait until everyone believes.
The Lord does look for the household to reflect the ways of God with the head of it… And I do not mean only the children, though the children have the nearer place. I mean servants too, if there are any in the house… where there are such servants, the same should be true of them. For what brings blessing among the children secures blessing among the servants. At any rate there should be godly order, even if the children or servants have not yet come to know God.
The verse sets the aim of Abraham's rule. His household is to keep the LORD's way "by doing righteousness and justice." A parent has a model to copy here, not a style to invent.
When I look at the whole record of God's dealings with His house, I find one constant mark. He uses power on the principle of righteousness. He set up His holy authority and has carried it out without ever backing down… Now the servant must always take his Master as his model. If God rules His house with power used in righteousness, so must I. If I differ from Him in any single detail of my conduct, I am wrong in that detail.
The verse ends by linking Abraham's household to God bringing about what He had spoken. Does a parent's faith then cover the children?
A believer's family is not exempt from the need of faith. The father's faith cannot stand in for the child's… Here is not a promise but an assurance. It rests on what his faith produced in practice, in this Old Testament example of faith. God had called him out of the idolatry around him to keep the way of the Lord. So he owned Him as the God of his household, and not only as his own God. With such purpose of heart, his house would prove the wise man's proverb true: "Train up a child in the way he should go; even when he is old he will not depart from it."
- Known. "I know him" is approval, not information. God could never have said it of Lot.
- Trusted. That approval is what opened God's secret counsels to Abraham; God confides in the man whose home He can point to.
- Chosen. God did not look for greatness. He looked for one plain thing: a man who commanded his children and his household.
- Copied. The way of the LORD in a house is righteousness. God rules His own house that way, and the servant copies his Master.
- Fulfilled. The closing clause is assurance, not a bargain. Faith that trains a household is never wasted.
And Jehovah said, Because the cry of Sodom and Gomorrah is great and their sin is very grievous,
God has just renewed His promise of a son to Abraham. Now He speaks about the cities on the plain below, and His words raise two questions: how does sin reach God's ears, and why does a God who knows everything say He will go down and see?
The verse does not say God noticed Sodom's sin. It says a cry came up from it. One writer finds the same cry before Sodom and long after it:
It is a solemn truth, reader, that sin has a voice which cries to heaven for God's righteous retribution. The word of God, in both the Old Testament and the New, confirms it. God says to Cain, "What have you done? The voice of your brother's blood is crying to me from the ground." God then pronounces judgment on Cain. … Further, in the New Testament: "Behold, the wages of the laborers who mowed your fields, which you kept back by fraud, are crying out against you, and the cries of the harvesters have reached the ears of the Lord of hosts" (James 5:4).
Sodom sat in rich farmland. Scripture names that wealth as the root of its ruin.
With such a rich hinterland, Sodom no doubt became prosperous, and its prosperity was the cause of its downfall. The Lord makes this clear through the prophet Ezekiel. He says to Israel, "Behold, this was the guilt of your sister Sodom: she and her daughters had pride, excess of food, and prosperous ease, but did not aid the poor and needy" (Ezekiel 16:49). God in His goodness had given them prosperity to relieve those in need. Instead, they used their wealth to gratify themselves in gross wickedness.
Genesis had already described the men of Sodom. What is new is that their sin now calls for a verdict — and even then God is in no hurry:
Already we have learned that "the men of Sodom were wicked, great sinners against the LORD" (Genesis 13:13). Now we learn that their sin cried out to the Lord for judgment, for it was "very grave." God waits and bears long with the wickedness of men, but He is not indifferent to sin. It cries out to Him until at last it is ripe for judgment. But even so, the Lord is slow to judge. First we read that the two angels rose up and looked toward Sodom (v. 16). Then they "went toward Sodom" (v. 22). At last we read, "the two angels came to Sodom in the evening" (Genesis 19:1).
God does not need to investigate anything. So why does He talk this way?
He is speaking here just as men speak. The Lord adopts the familiar language of everyday life, and stoops to fit Himself to what anyone could understand in a man. How God knows all things at once, without inquiry or investigation, is far beyond us. He condescends to speak this way so that Abraham might be fully at ease in His presence.
The same writer draws a lesson for us from God's unhurried manner:
God would give us the serious lesson of never being hasty in judging evil; He knows well how quick we often are. Even God Himself will go down and see. Appearances deceive men at least, and God would teach us how to guard against mistakes. He loves patience in judgment.
God did not owe Abraham this news. See what it produced in the man who received it:
When a soul is confident before God, He shares His thoughts, as here He treats Abraham as a friend, telling him even what concerns the world. With a friend we do not speak of mere business, but of what we have on our heart. Intercession is the fruit of divine revelation and fellowship. Abraham, separate from the world and with the Lord on the mountain, talks over the judgment that was about to fall on the world below.
Abraham's first reaction was not detached interest. He had family down there:
In a moment Abraham had the sense — that is a doomed place. I must get my nephew Lot out of it. He had relatives there. If you have Christian relatives, dear unsaved sinner, do not be amazed when they press you hard about the salvation of your soul. Why? Abraham knew in his day that Sodom was doomed. He knew the judgment of the Lord was about to fall on that godless place. In the same way, we Christians know that the very next thing for the world is judgment.
- The cry. Sin is not silent. A brother's blood, Sodom's outcry, wages held back from workers — each sends up a voice that reaches God.
- The cause. Sodom's outcry grew out of plenty — prosperity, ease and pride spent on self instead of on the poor and needy.
- The patience. God is neither indifferent nor hasty. He bears long, and moves toward judgment step by step, only when evil is ripe.
- The manner. "I will go down and see" is God speaking in human terms. He stoops so Abraham can be at ease with Him, and teaches us never to be quick in judging evil.
- The friendship. God tells a friend what is on His heart, even what is about to fall on the world. The friend's answer is intercession — and urgency for those still inside the doomed city.
I will go down now, and see whether they have done altogether according to the cry of it, which is come to me; and if not, I will know [it].
Commentary for this verse has not been generated yet.
And the men turned thence, and went towards Sodom; and Abraham remained yet standing before Jehovah.
The men who had eaten at Abraham's tent now set off for Sodom, and one of the three stays behind. Abraham is left standing before God while judgment moves toward a city — so who is this One who stays, and what does a person do with such a moment?
Earlier in the chapter God hides who He is. Yet Abraham's own words show he already knew his guest.
The Lord was there incognito, as we say, until the tent scene is over and the angels are gone, and then it is all open. While in the tent, Abraham speaks to Him with deep respect, but the Lord does not tell the secret until He is alone with him... Abraham says, My lord, not My lords. He is fully aware that One of them is greater, and his faith sees through it all... He sends on these two angels, and we find them at Sodom right afterwards.
With the messengers gone, Abraham and God are left in each other's company.
The two men go on towards Sodom; and Abraham and the Lord remain together. What a place of privilege and blessing! It is not worship. It is not a call to follow when the Lord led. All of that had its place. It is communion — personal fellowship with God about what concerns Himself and His ways.
Scripture uses the same words of Elijah, Elisha and other men of God. That place brings something with it.
Above all, Elijah stands before God. "The LORD, the God of Israel," he says, "before whom I stand"... Like Elijah, Abraham "stood yet before the Lord" (Gen. 18:22). Elisha likewise (2 Kings 3:14), and so many other prophets and men of God. When someone stands before God, God shares His thoughts with him. "Shall I hide from Abraham what I am about to do?" says the Lord.
God had a purpose in telling Abraham what He was about to do.
And now Abraham takes the place of intercession. Surely one part of the purpose of this gracious message was to put him there. Our characters are to be formed by understanding Christ, and we know Him now in this very place of intercession. So how important it is to realize what is before us here! It is His people for whom the Holy Spirit intercedes below.
The pleading that follows steps down from fifty to ten, and God grants every step. What stops the descent is worth noticing.
Each time God, in His grace, gives him what he asks. At last it is Abraham's faith that fails to draw on that grace of God — for where sin abounds, grace abounds much more.
The next chapter opens with Lot sitting in the gate of Sodom, and only the two angels arrive there.
In the preceding chapter the LORD appeared to Abraham accompanied by two angels. Here it is only the angels that come to Sodom. Abraham, in the outside place with his tent, enjoys sweet communion with the LORD. Lot, sitting in the gate of Sodom, will have no visits from the LORD. His soul may be troubled by the filthy conduct and lawless deeds of the wicked, but he will enjoy no communion with the LORD.
Yet Abraham's separation was not indifference.
We observe in it a man pleading with God in a most urgent way for one who had turned his back on him, and chosen Sodom as the place to live. Abraham's soul must have been lifted far above "the things that are seen." He could forget the strife and the departure, the worldliness and evil of Lot, and still plead for him as "a righteous soul."
The exchange changed Abraham himself, and the next morning found him back on that spot.
Abraham persevered in intercession, though he stopped short of the fullness of God's mercy. We do not know, as God knows, all He is going to do. Still, we may intercede with faith. Abraham grows bold as he goes on; his confidence increases. As a result he knows God much better than before. The peace of God kept his heart. The fruit of it all is seen in Genesis 19:27-28, where Abraham gets up early in the morning and goes to the place where he stood before the Lord, and looks down on the plain, now smoking like a furnace.
- Stand. Abraham stayed where he was when the messengers left. Scripture says the same of Elijah, Elisha and other men of God.
- Hear. God tells His thoughts to the one who stands before Him. "Shall I hide from Abraham what I am about to do?" belongs to that place.
- Plead. Knowing God's mind put Abraham in the place of intercession. Believers now know Christ in that same place, and the Spirit intercedes for them.
- Reach. His pleading reached the man who had turned his back on him. It stopped when his faith stopped drawing on God's grace, not when the grace ran out.
- Rest. He came back to that same spot and looked down on the smoking plain — bolder in prayer, knowing God better, and kept in peace.
And Abraham drew near, and said, Wilt thou also cause the righteous to perish with the wicked?
God has just told Abraham what He is about to do with Sodom, and instead of walking away he stays and pleads. His question raises two of ours: what gave Abraham the freedom to speak like this, and who did he mean by "the righteous"?
One writer reads the words "drew near" as the peak of Abraham's closeness to God. God had already trusted him with His plans.
Chapters 18 and 19 record a most elevated and striking example of the intimacy of Abraham's communion with God. There he is let into the secrets of God's governmental dealings with the cities of the plain, and the Lord Himself says, "Shall I hide from Abraham what I am about to do?" ... What in the Old Testament speaks of greater intimacy than the further record, "But Abraham still stood before the Lord, and Abraham drew near and said …"?
God shares His mind first, and intercession grows out of that.
With a friend I speak of what I have on my heart, not just of my business with him. And then, as he has received these messages from God, so he intercedes with God. He is a stranger in the place of promise, and on high in communion with Him. ... His faith associates him with the mind and character of God.
Earlier in the chapter God had promised Abraham a son. That settled matter leaves his heart free.
"He drew near" and says, "Will you indeed sweep away the righteous with the wicked?" Note this: it is no longer a question about himself, or about the son. The son was soon to come. All this was settled. He rests upon it, his heart is perfectly free. He has no longer a single want for himself; not one request remains to be spread before Jehovah. His heart is drawn out in a spirit of grace, which answers to the grace of the Lord towards himself.
Abraham names no one in his plea. So who are "the righteous" he is pleading for?
Like a genuine man of faith, he takes advantage of his place in the presence of God to intercede for a brother. That brother's worldliness had plunged him into the very middle of the place God was about to give over to everlasting destruction. "Then Abraham drew near and said, 'Will you indeed sweep away the righteous with the wicked?'" (v. 23) "The righteous!" To whom can he refer? Can it be to the man who had so deliberately turned aside out of the path of faith to make his home at Sodom? Yes; he speaks of Lot — he calls him "righteous."
That verdict meant setting aside everything Lot had done to him.
How high above "the things that are seen" Abraham's soul must have been lifted! He could forget the strife and the departure, the worldliness and evil of Lot, and still plead for him as "a righteous soul."
One writer finds a doubt hidden inside the plea, and turns it back on us.
How strange the implied doubt here in Abraham's mind! ... An Abraham praying the Judge of all the earth to do right! Is it not a first principle that of course He must? How could he doubt? we say. Beloved, do we never? And how much more do we know of God than Abraham possibly could! How much of our praying, if we looked closely at it, comes down to this — asking God to do right!
The prayer ended because Abraham stopped, not because God did.
He intercedes on the ground that it is impossible to destroy the righteous with the wicked. So he pleads with God to spare the city if fifty righteous men are found in it. Then he comes down to forty-five, forty, thirty, twenty, and at last to only ten. Each time God, in His grace, grants what he asks. At last it is Abraham's faith that fails to draw on the grace of God — the grace that, where sin abounds, does much more abound.
Notice who is not praying: Lot, inside the city.
Lot could not intercede with God as Abraham did. He did not know what it was to draw near to God. He was too deeply involved in Sodom's affairs to have communion with God. We cannot intercede with God for evildoers unless we are separate from them and know the intimacy of communion with God.
- Draw near first. God confides in Abraham before Abraham pleads. Intimacy is the soil intercession grows in.
- Draw near empty. God had settled his own future, so he had nothing left to ask for himself. A satisfied heart is free to spend itself on others.
- Draw near for the undeserving. The "righteous" he pleads for is Lot, the relative who walked out on him and settled in Sodom.
- Draw near honestly. His question to the Judge of all the earth carries a hidden doubt — the same doubt that fills much of our own praying.
- Draw near further. God granted every step down from fifty to ten. The limit was Abraham's faith, never God's grace.
There are perhaps fifty righteous within the city wilt thou also destroy and not forgive the place for the sake of the fifty righteous that are therein?
God has just told Abraham what He is about to do to Sodom. Abraham stays and begins to plead. He starts at fifty righteous people who might be inside the city. His question is whether judgment sweeps away the good with the guilty. Can a few righteous people hold back destruction from a whole place?
Abraham stands unusually close to God. Notice what he does with that place: he asks nothing for himself.
How does Abraham use his favoured position? Does he use it to strengthen and secure the future of his own family? The natural heart would have pushed him at once to use his advantage that way... Instead, he gave not a thought to himself or his house. Like a true man of faith, he uses his place in God's presence to plead for a brother. That brother's love of the world had dropped him into the very middle of a place God was about to give over to everlasting destruction.
Another writer treats this as a pattern.
Whenever God reveals His plans to faith, it brings out the spirit of intercession... So here Abraham pleads with the Lord to spare the city.
Abraham never says the name "Lot." Commentators agree he means his nephew, who lived in Sodom.
Note how persistent Abraham is about Lot and Sodom. I wish we Christians were half as persistent! ... The Lord replies that if there are fifty righteous, the city will be saved. And if there are only forty, Lord? Yes! And if there are only thirty? Yes! And if there are only twenty? Yes! And if there are only ten, Lord? Yes! And then he stops. ... All the while he was thinking of Lot. The thought in his heart was: Lot is a righteous man, though in a wrong position, and there are sure to be a few more like him to make up the necessary ten.
Abraham's opening figure was not random.
As Abraham pleads with the Lord, we know he has Lot chiefly in mind. Yet he clearly could not bring himself to think that Lot might be the only righteous person in Sodom... He cannot imagine the Judge of all the earth making the righteous suffer along with the wicked. The Judge will surely do right. Fifty would be a very small share of the city. Yet Abraham probably remembered that God saved only eight people out of the whole world when He destroyed it by a flood.
Abraham's plea rests on a principle. Commentators apply it to the world today.
God had to provide for Lot before the fiery storm could fall... For the sake of the righteous, God spares the wicked. "You are the salt of the earth."... And God preserves the world today because His children are in it.
Another writer weighs what one godly life is worth to God — and how Sodom actually ended.
See how much weight one godly person carries with God. Here was this big wicked Sodom. Its sins were too terrible to speak about, crying out to heaven for vengeance. Yet ten godly people in that mass of sin and wickedness would have saved the guilty city. But there were not ten. The few in it were thrust out — four people in all — and one died just outside its walls. So the city was destroyed.
God says yes at every step down. What ends the conversation is not God's patience but Abraham's nerve.
Why "this once"? Sadly, our faith never reaches up to the grace of God. We grow weary and fail, not He. We receive enough, through His grace, for our blessing, but we rarely go deep into it... God's grace went far beyond what Abraham asked. It reached down after all to that one person who lay on Abraham's heart, though Abraham had not the courage to say so.
The ceiling on this prayer points forward to One whose pleading has no ceiling.
He said, "I will speak yet but this once," and there he stopped short. It was as if he feared he had drawn too large a sum from the treasury of infinite grace — or had forgotten that God's bank has never yet refused faith's cheque... He stopped asking, and God stopped giving. Not so our blessed Intercessor. Of Him it can be said, "He is able to save to the uttermost... since he always lives to make intercession."
- Nearness — Abraham used his closeness to God for someone else's rescue, not his own gain.
- Number — fifty was Abraham's hopeful guess. Behind every figure he named stood one man: Lot.
- Value — God would spare a whole wicked city for a few righteous people. That is how believers act as salt today.
- Answer — God said yes at every step down, from fifty to ten.
- Limit — the prayer stopped because Abraham's faith gave out, not God's grace. That ceiling points to an Intercessor who saves to the uttermost.
Far be it from thee to do so, to slay the righteous with the wicked, that the righteous should be as the wicked -- far be it from thee! Will not the Judge of all the earth do right?
Abraham stands before the LORD and pleads for a city already under sentence. He does not argue that Sodom deserves better. He appeals to what God is — and troubled people have asked his question ever since.
(Some quotes use an older translation, where "do right" stands for the ESV's "do what is just.")
Nothing in the world around Abraham showed God openly ruling it. The title he uses is something faith saw, not something the eye could see.
It was faith in Abraham that recognised God as the Judge of all the earth, for then, as now, God was not openly the Judge of all the earth. He was acting behind the scenes, yet dealing with evil in His government when He judged it necessary. The day is coming, in the world to come, when it will be shown openly that God is the Judge of all. He will not let evil raise its head as it has done down the centuries.
"Judge" here is not a picture of a final courtroom scene at the end of all things. It has to do with God's rule over the earth itself.
This surely does not refer to God sitting in formal judgment, as at the great white throne, but as the One who will govern the earth in righteousness. So Abraham speaks of God as Judge, when he says, "Shall not the Judge of all the earth do right?"… Under man's rule righteousness is too often separated from judgment. Under God, the Judge of all, righteousness will return to judgment.
The two sides of this conversation are not the same, and one writer sets them side by side.
Jehovah comes down in grace to find, if possible, some reason why mercy might still hold back justice. "I will go down now, and see whether they have done altogether according to the cry of it, and if not, I will know." Jehovah comes in grace, Abraham urges righteousness — "Will you destroy the righteous with the wicked? … far be it from you. Shall not the judge of all the earth do right? Let not the Lord be angry."
The question is famous for its confidence. One writer noticed the opposite — that a man had to ask it at all.
How strange the implied doubt here in Abraham's mind! What poor weak questions do not these minds of ours raise! An Abraham praying the Judge of all the earth to do right! Is it not a first principle that of course He must? How could he doubt? we say. Beloved, do we never?… If we looked closely at our prayers, how much of them would come down to this — asking God to do right!… when everything on earth seems as if it were going wrong… has the bitter question never sprung up in our hearts, even if it never reached our lips?
Abraham lowered his number step by step, then closed with "let me speak but this once." He never named the one man he was really praying for.
Why "this once"? Alas! our faith never reaches up to the grace of God. We weary and fail, not He… Jehovah answered in full all that Abraham's faith and confidence in His grace attempted. Yet His grace went far beyond that, for it came down after all to the one person who lay on Abraham's heart, though Abraham had not the boldness to say so. But Jehovah knew it; and while He surely did not spare that wicked place — and His righteous government meant it had to stand as an example of divine judgment — He still rescued that righteous soul despite his faults.
Abraham's question has gone on steadying people long after Sodom.
Abraham had boldly said to the Lord, "Shall not the Judge of all the earth do right?" — words for which we have all been deeply thankful, words that give us peace of mind as to God's governmental dealings in this sad world.
- Right — recognised. Abraham's title for God was an act of faith. God was governing the earth from behind the scenes. One day that rule will be open for all to see.
- Right — not final. This is God's rule over the earth in righteousness, not the final courtroom. Under His rule, righteousness and judgment come back together.
- Right — invited. God came down in grace, looking for a reason to spare. Abraham pressed the standard of righteousness, and God met him at every step.
- Right — doubted. Even a man of faith had to ask the question. Much of our praying is the same request: that God would do what is right when life looks wrong.
- Right — exceeded. Abraham's faith stopped at ten. God's grace went lower still and rescued the one man he never dared to name.
And Jehovah said, If I find at Sodom fifty righteous within the city, then I will forgive all the place for their sakes.
Abraham has just asked whether the Judge of all the earth will sweep away the righteous with the wicked. Here God answers him. A whole city is held back from ruin because of a handful of people inside it. The answer raises the question that runs through the rest of the chapter: how far will God's grace go, and who sets the limit?
Abraham's plea was not cool argument. It came from a heart stirred by what was about to fall on the plain where his relative lived. God's reply meets that earnestness without a word of correction.
He pleads as one whose heart felt deeply. When our hearts are engaged, we do not do the work badly. That is the real secret of it... It was so with Abraham. He intercedes earnestly, and he keeps on. He puts that thought into words: "Shall not the Judge of all the earth do what is just?" Of course He will. And here we have the answer of grace: "If I find at Sodom fifty righteous in the city, I will spare the whole place for their sake."
Fifty people in a wicked city is a tiny fraction. Yet God says that fraction would be enough to spare everyone around them. Commentators read it as a picture of what believers do in the world right now.
The Lord gives Abraham full assurance that He would not destroy the city if He found fifty righteous there. This surely reminds us that believers are "the salt of the earth" (Matt. 5:13). Their presence protects the world from the judgment that looks so near. At the Rapture, the Lord will take all believers into His presence. Then this preserving character will be gone, and judgment will fall in all its terror on the ungodly world.
The phrase "for their sake" points to a principle in how God governs the world. The rescue in view is rescue from disaster in this life. It rests on God's delight in the godly.
It is true that the atoning sufferings of Christ are absolutely necessary for the blessing of men. Still, in the way God governs the earth, He gives earthly deliverance and blessing because He delights in the godly. We see this principle illustrated in the history of Sodom. Abraham asks God to spare Sodom from destruction in this life if ten righteous men are found in the city. And God was ready to do it.
Abraham can plead like this because God confided in him first. He is not bargaining with a stranger.
God then treats him as a friend. He tells him, not what concerns Abraham himself, but what concerns the world. With a friend I speak of what I have on my heart, not just of my business with him. And because Abraham has received these communications from God, he now intercedes with God — a stranger in the place of promise, yet on high in communion with Him. And this is even more the place of the saints now, through the Holy Spirit: they have the full communication of God's mind and ways in the word, and the Lord is coming to take them up. That is the scene they live in by faith, and intercession is founded on it... His faith associates him with the mind and character of God.
Each time Abraham lowers the number, God agrees. Nothing here shows God growing reluctant. The conversation ends because Abraham stops.
Divine power waited on faith — faith measured the active resources of God on the occasion... For as long as Abraham stood interceding, the Lord stood promising.
God did not spare the city in the end. Yet His mercy reached further than Abraham's asking did. It reached the one man Abraham had in mind but never dared to name.
Alas! our faith never reaches up to the grace of God. We weary and fail, not He... The Lord answered in full everything that Abraham's faith and confidence in His grace attempted. But His grace went far beyond that. It came down after all to that one person who lay on the heart of Abraham, though Abraham had not the boldness to say so. The Lord knew it. He did not spare that wicked place. In His righteous government it was made an example of divine judgment. Yet He still rescued that righteous soul, despite his faults.
- Friendship first. God told Abraham His plans before Abraham said a word. Intercession grows out of being let into God's mind, not out of pressure put on Him.
- Grace answers. God answers a bold plea with agreement, not rebuke. His first "I will spare" sets the tone for every answer that follows.
- Few for many. Fifty would have covered a whole city. God's people are the salt that holds back judgment from the world around them.
- For their sake. On earth God delivers people because He delights in the godly. The atoning sufferings of Christ are another matter — they are necessary for any blessing at all.
- Faith stops first. Abraham ran out of boldness before God ran out of mercy, and grace still reached the one man he never named.
And Abraham answered and said, Behold now, I have ventured to speak unto the Lord; I, who am dust and ashes.
Abraham has just heard what God plans to do with Sodom, and he keeps pleading instead of falling silent. Here he says what he is while he speaks: a man who dares to address the Lord, and a man who is only dust and ashes.
Abraham has nothing left to ask for himself. Alone with God, his tone is confidence, not fear.
Abraham does not ask anything for himself here; he pleads for others. Indeed, what could he ask for? He was enjoying conversation with God, and the promises about the son were sure and already given. He is in the place of blessing, walking in the spirit of communion with the God he now knows. This began with the revelation of Himself by God. Now that Abraham is alone with Him all is boldness, though reverence, with one well known.
Abraham does not hang back at a distance. The Christian has the same access, and that raises a question about how we pray.
How precious is this access to Him who had come down! Abraham shows no shrinking behind the door. He has confidence in God. "Abraham drew near." The Christian can understand it all, now that redemption has been accomplished, and sin has been judged. God's word and the work of Christ have left us without a single spot or stain to catch the eye of the Judge. But is there always in us, as here in Abraham, a real readiness to draw near and speak to our God? Are we glad to make proper use of the privileges we have?
Abraham did not invent this phrase. Ashes already had a fixed use in the Bible, and Job used the same words of himself.
Ashes, mostly from burnt wood, were used as a sign of sorrow or mourning, either put on the head... or on the body with sackcloth... To eat ashes expresses great sorrow, Ps. 102:9; and to be reduced to them is a figure of complete destruction... "Dust and ashes" was the figure Abraham used of himself before Jehovah, Gen. 18:27; and Job said he had become like them by the hand of God. Job 30:19.
Being at ease about himself leaves Abraham free for other people. He spends the whole conversation on a city that is not his.
He had no confession to make and no requests to bring for himself, but as the Lord had spoken to him about Sodom, he now speaks to the Lord about it. He intercedes, as one near to God, as one who was at ease about himself, and so at leisure to attend to others.
Closeness to God does not puff a person up. It does the opposite, and Abraham stands first in a long line of people who prove it.
Abraham knew such liberty in the Lord's presence. Yet we find him deeply aware of his own sin and nothingness, like everyone else who has real dealings with God. We hear Job saying: "Behold, I am vile"; Isaiah saying: "I am undone"; Peter saying: "I am a sinful man, O Lord"; Paul saying: "I am chief" of sinners. Abraham says, "I am but dust and ashes," and, as far as the Scripture record goes, he heads the list, the first to condemn himself in the presence of God.
Calling yourself dust and ashes is a beggar's language, not a negotiator's. That is what lifts prayer.
A spiritual prayer is a humble prayer: "Lord, You have heard the desire of the humble" (Ps. 10:17, older translation). Prayer is asking for charity, which takes humility. It is fitting to see a poor nothing lie at the feet of its Maker... The lower the heart descends, the higher the prayer ascends. God accepts broken expressions, when they come from broken hearts.
- Draw near. Abraham does not shrink back but comes close; the question is whether we use the access we have.
- Speak boldly. Alone with God, Abraham is bold and reverent at once. He knows the One he speaks to.
- Own the dust. Ashes stood for mourning and total ruin. Abraham uses that word of himself, out loud, before God.
- Go lower, not higher. Nearness to God does not inflate a man. Abraham heads the list of those who condemned themselves in God's presence.
- Be heard. With nothing left to ask for himself, he is free to plead for others. The lower the heart descends, the higher the prayer ascends.
Perhaps there may want five of the fifty righteous wilt thou destroy all the city on account of the five? And he said, If I shall find forty-five there, I will not destroy [it].
Abraham has just called himself dust and ashes, and now he takes his first step down from fifty. His question tests two things: what God will do for the sake of a few righteous people, and how far a man may go in asking Him.
The drop from fifty to forty-five is small. But how Abraham asks matters as much as what he asks for.
When Abraham lowers the number to forty-five (v. 28), he takes the humble place. He recognizes that he is only a creature of dust speaking to his infinitely great Creator. Yet he asks out of confidence in the living God. Again God gives His word that He would not destroy the city if forty-five righteous were found there... Each time he shows that he feels unworthy to ask at all, but the Lord loves to encourage confidence in His grace.
Abraham speaks in numbers. But writers agree that one person stands behind every number: Lot, his nephew, who had settled in Sodom.
Notice how persistent Abraham is about Lot and Sodom. If only we Christians were half as persistent!... The Lord replies that if fifty righteous are found, the city will be saved. And if there are only forty, Lord? Yes! And if only thirty? Yes!... All the while he was thinking of Lot. The thought in his heart was — I believe Lot is a righteous man, though in a wrong position. And there are sure to be a few more like him to make up the necessary ten.
What makes this striking is who Lot had been to Abraham.
Abraham's conduct in this chapter gives us one of the most important results of a holy and separated walk. We see in it a man pleading with God in a most urgent way for one who had turned his back on him and chosen Sodom as the place to live. How completely Abraham's soul must have been lifted above "the things that are seen"! He could forget the quarrel and the parting, the worldliness and evil of Lot, and still plead for him as "a righteous soul."
Each time Abraham lowers the figure, God agrees. One writer sets the scene beside a miracle worked through the prophet Elisha.
For as long as the poor widow brought out her jars, the pot kept giving its oil. The oil waited on the jars. The jars were the measure of the oil. In other words, divine power waited on faith — faith measured the active resources of God on the occasion. This was like the Lord long ago, standing with Abraham. For as long as Abraham stood interceding, the Lord stood promising.
God's care for one righteous man shapes what happens to a whole city. One writer follows that pattern from Lot's rescue down to the world we live in now.
God had to provide for Lot before the fiery storm could fall. The Lord said He could do nothing until Lot had gone out of the city. And the little city of Zoar was spared for his sake, because he asked for it. For the sake of the righteous the wicked are spared. "You are the salt of the earth." Had there been ten righteous men found in those five cities, they would have been spared. And the world is now preserved because the children of God are in it.
The same mercy shows again in the next chapter — the small town of Zoar was spared because one righteous man ran into it.
Sodom would have been spared if only ten righteous persons had been in it. Zoar was spared because only one righteous man entered it. Such is the abounding mercy of our God, and His slowness to judge.
Abraham stops at ten and asks no more. One writer finds the limit in Abraham, not in God.
Alas! our faith never reaches up to the grace of God. We grow weary and fail, not He. We get enough, through His grace, for our blessing, but we rarely venture into its depths... The Lord answered in full everything Abraham's faith and confidence in His grace attempted. Yet His grace went far beyond it. It reached down at last to that one person who lay on Abraham's heart, though he had not the boldness to say so. But the Lord knew it. He did not spare that wicked place — His righteous government required it to be made an example of divine judgment. Even so, He rescued that righteous soul in spite of his faults.
- Ask. The step from fifty to forty-five is dust speaking to its Creator — and still asking. God welcomes that confidence.
- Ask for someone. Every number stands for Lot, the man who had walked out on Abraham. Abraham spends his nearness to God on someone else, not on himself.
- Keep asking. As long as Abraham kept interceding, the Lord kept promising. His asking, not God's supply, set the measure.
- A few can shelter many. God was ready to spare a whole city for the sake of ten; one righteous man saved Zoar. The presence of God's people holds back judgment.
- Grace outruns faith. Abraham stopped at ten, and Sodom still fell. But God reached below that number and rescued the one man Abraham never dared to name.
And he continued yet to speak with him, and said, Perhaps there may be forty found there. And he said, I will not do it for the forty's sake.
God has just told Abraham what He is about to do to Sodom. Abraham does not fall silent — he keeps asking: fifty, then forty-five, now forty. Two questions follow: what gives a man the right to press God like this, and who decides when the pressing stops?
This boldness is not a sudden burst of daring. It grows out of where Abraham already stands with God.
This was a happy and a holy use to make of his place of nearness to God. It is always so. Some souls can "draw near to God" in the assurance of faith, with heart and conscience fully at rest, resting in God about the past, the present and the future. Such a soul will be able and willing to intercede for others.
The tone is what makes this scene unusual.
We think this case stands alone among all the Old Testament records of men meeting God face to face. No other shows such closeness and such freedom, with no fear at all. Abraham, secure in his own standing before the Lord, took the place of an intercessor.
Each yes from God does not end the conversation. It fuels the next ask.
When God tells him what He is going to do, he says, "Will You spare the place for fifty righteous?" and God says, "I will." Then he says, "For forty-five?" God says that if there are forty-five He will not destroy it. This makes Abraham bolder, and he goes on until he is ashamed to trespass any more on God's power.
Abraham keeps owning how small he is, even as he asks for more.
Each time he shows that he feels unworthy to ask. But the Lord loves to encourage confidence in His grace.
Abraham never names Lot. But Lot is why the numbers keep falling.
All the while he was thinking of Lot. The thought in his heart was this: I believe Lot is a righteous man, though he is in a wrong position. There are sure to be a few more like him to make up the necessary ten.
Notice the shape of the exchange. Every lower number comes from Abraham, and each promise answers it.
Divine power waited on faith — faith measured the active resources of God on the occasion. It was the same when the Lord stood with Abraham long ago: as long as Abraham stood interceding, the Lord stood promising.
The dialogue stops at ten, and it stops because Abraham stops. The limit was never on God's side.
He said, "I will speak yet but this once," and there he stopped short, as if afraid of having presented too large a request at the treasury of infinite grace, or forgetting that faith's cheque was never yet refused at God's bank. God did not hold him back. By no means. There was abundance of grace and patience in Him to have listened to His dear servant, had he gone on even to three or one. But the servant was limited. He was afraid of overdrawing his account. He ceased to ask, and God ceased to give.
Faith runs out before grace does. Yet God still went past where Abraham stopped.
Why "I will speak yet but this once"? Our faith never reaches up to the grace of God. We weary and fail, He does not. Through His grace we get enough for our blessing, but we rarely venture into its depths. Although the Lord answered to the full all that Abraham's faith and confidence in His grace attempted, His grace far exceeded it, for it came down after all to that one person who lay on Abraham's heart, though he had not the boldness to say so. But the Lord knew it.
Abraham's whole plea rests on finding enough righteous people to save a city. God later set the number at one.
Later God could say to Jeremiah about the doomed city of Jerusalem, "See if you can find a man, one who does justice and seeks truth, that I may pardon her." We know that Man has been found. Christ is the "one mediator between God and men, the Man Christ Jesus, who gave Himself as a ransom for all." Through this Man we are told to intercede for all men.
- Nearness first. Rest in God about past, present and future, and you can plead for others. Intercession grows out of a settled place before God, not out of nerve.
- Nearness emboldens. Every answer God gave made Abraham braver. The Lord "loves to encourage confidence in His grace," so the humble tone and the rising boldness belong together.
- Nearness measures. As long as Abraham kept interceding, God kept promising; faith set the size of what came back.
- Nearness has a ceiling — ours. The pleading ended at ten because Abraham stopped, not because God did. He feared overdrawing an account that cannot be overdrawn.
- Christ has no ceiling. Abraham's forty was too small, yet God still reached the one man on his heart. God has provided the Man Jerusalem could not supply — Christ — and through Him we are told to pray for all.
And he said, Oh, let not the Lord be angry that I speak! Perhaps there may be thirty found there. And he said, I will not do it if I find thirty there.
Abraham has already asked God to spare Sodom for fifty righteous people, then forty-five, then forty. Now he lowers the number again, and he opens by apologising for daring to speak at all.
Abraham does not use the name Jehovah here. He uses "Adonai," a word that means Master. The ESV renders it "the Lord." One writer notes the title, and also where Abraham was standing when he used it:
The Lord shows His own most patient grace in judgment, both in verse 21 and in the intercession. Abraham never says "Jehovah," but "Adonai." When he pleaded with the Lord, Abraham was not in his own place, at home on earth. He was with Jehovah in the way of faith — we may say a heavenly way. Afterwards he returned to his place, the home of nature. There he had welcomed the Lord. But in his communing and intercession he stood before the Lord, where the Lord had taken him.
Abraham keeps lowering the figure, and God keeps agreeing. One writer sees that repeated yes as God's own encouragement:
When Abraham lowers the number to forty-five, he takes the humble place. He recognises that he is only a creature of dust speaking to his infinitely great Creator. Yet he asks out of confidence in the living God. Again God gives His word that He would not destroy the city if forty-five righteous were found there. Then Abraham reduces the number to forty, and receives the same gracious assurance… Then to thirty, and lower yet to twenty, and finally to ten. Each time he shows that he feels his own unworthiness in making these requests. But the Lord loves to encourage confidence in His grace, and declares that He would not destroy the city if even ten righteous were found there.
Abraham's "let not the Lord be angry" sounds nervous, yet he keeps speaking. And what he asks for has nothing to do with himself:
Notice how Abraham's remarkable pleadings blend deep reverence with simple familiarity. Then remember what he is pleading for. Nothing he says concerns himself or any personal interest of his own. His first concern is the reputation and glory of the great "Judge of all the earth." His second is the deliverance of Lot and his family, and the plight of the sinners of Sodom.
Why did God not state His terms at the start, instead of waiting for Abraham to ask again and again? One writer compares this scene with the widow whose oil kept flowing while she kept bringing jars:
As long as the poor widow kept bringing out her jars, the pot kept producing its oil. The oil waited on the jars. The jars were the measure of the oil. In other words, divine power waited on faith. Faith measured what God's power did that day. It was the same long ago when the Lord stood with Abraham. For as long as Abraham stood interceding, the Lord stood promising.
Two verses later Abraham says he will speak only once more, and then he stops. So how far could he have gone? One writer says the limit lay in the man, not in God:
We see in this scripture that Abraham's intercession, however blessed it may have been, had a limit. The intercessor was only a man. It did not reach the need. He said, "I will speak yet but this once," and there he stopped short. It was as if he feared he had drawn too large an amount on the treasury of infinite grace. Or he forgot that faith's cheque was never yet refused at God's bank. God was not the one who limited him. Far from it. There was plenty of grace and patience in Him to listen to His dear servant, even if he had gone down to three or one. But the servant had a limit. He was afraid of overdrawing his account. He ceased to ask, and God ceased to give. Not so our blessed Intercessor. Of Him we can say, "He is able to save to the uttermost… since he always lives to make intercession."
- Place — Abraham prays where God had brought him, not on his own home ground.
- Permission — he calls God Master and fears He may be angry. God's reply shows no anger at all.
- Pattern — every lower number meets the same yes. God loves to draw out confidence in His grace.
- Proportion — Abraham received what he asked for. Faith set the measure of what God's power did that day.
- Point — the prayer stopped because the man stopped asking, not because God's grace ran out. It sends us to the Intercessor who saves completely.
And he said, Behold now, I have ventured to speak with the Lord. Perhaps there may be twenty found there. And he said, I will not destroy [it] for the twenty's sake.
Abraham has already asked God to spare Sodom for fifty righteous people, then forty-five, forty and thirty. Now he steps down to twenty — a man who knows he has no standing to speak at all, and who keeps on speaking.
His pleading is not a stray impulse. It is what he does with the nearness he already has.
Intercession for others before the Lord. God enabled him to plead for those who were mixed up in Sodom's defilement, and in danger of sharing Sodom's judgment. This was a happy and a holy use to make of his place of nearness to God. So it always is. Think of the soul that can "draw near to God" in the assurance of faith. Its heart and conscience are at perfect rest, and it can rest in God about the past, the present and the future. That soul will be able and willing to intercede for others.
He speaks like a man who knows the gap between himself and the One he addresses. That is exactly the kind of person God hears.
A spiritual prayer is a humble prayer: "O LORD, you hear the desire of the afflicted" (Psalm 10:17; older translations read "the humble"). Prayer is the asking of alms, which requires humility. It is fitting to see a poor nothing lie at the feet of its Maker: "Behold, I have undertaken to speak to the Lord, I who am but dust and ashes" (Genesis 18:27). The lower the heart descends, the higher the prayer ascends. God accepts broken expressions, when they come from broken hearts.
Nothing in this conversation is about Abraham's own safety. He is outside the danger, asking on behalf of people inside it.
Abraham's prayer had no relation to Abraham's own wants. He was safe from the judgments about to fall on the wicked. Still he pleads earnestly for the righteous who were mixed in among them, in danger of sharing their judgment. … This is a high order of prayer. It is prayer where a servant of the Lord rises above private or personal needs and cares deeply about Christ's interests in His people.
Twenty is granted as readily as fifty was. The limit in this exchange never comes from God's side.
How great the intimacy, how strong the confidence — we might almost say, what familiarity he uses in his pleading! And how pleasing to God his anxiety that righteous men should not be caught up in the judgment — indeed more, that even the guilty cities should be spared if only ten righteous men should be found there! God goes as far as Abraham's faith. It was he that ceased to ask before God ceased to grant. What a mighty power with God is faith! He in grace would have gone further, if Abraham's faith had.
The falling numbers say something about God, not only about Abraham. He takes no pleasure in destroying.
The sins of the cities of the plain were great, and cried out for judgment. But judgment is God's strange work. He does not will the death of any, and in Abraham He found a man after His own heart. So Abraham pleaded. He had a care for God's honour, for he had no doubt that the Judge of all the earth would do right. His plea was that the cities might be spared for the sake of the righteous in them. How gladly God would have shown mercy if fifty righteous men had been found in them, or forty-five, or forty, or thirty, or twenty, or even ten. And as long as Abraham interceded, God answered and stayed the judgment.
Abraham stopped a few verses later, at ten. One person was on his heart the whole time, and he never dared to name him.
Alas! our faith never reaches up to the grace of God. We weary and fail, not He. We get enough, through His grace, for our blessing, but rarely do we venture into its depths. … The Lord answered to the full all that Abraham's faith and confidence in His grace attempted. Yet His grace far exceeded it. It came down after all to that one person who lay on the heart of Abraham, though Abraham had not the boldness to say so. But the Lord knew it. He did not spare that wicked place, yet He still rescued that righteous soul in spite of his faults.
Abraham's pleading ran out. There is an Intercessor whose pleading never does.
He said, "I will speak yet but this once," and there he stopped short. It was as if he feared he had presented too large a cheque at the treasury of infinite grace — or as if he forgot that faith's cheque was never yet refused at God's bank. It was not that God limited him. By no means. … But the servant was limited. He was afraid of overdrawing his account. He ceased to ask, and God ceased to give. Not so our blessed Intercessor. Of Him it can be said, "He is able to save to the uttermost … since He always lives to make intercession."
- Nearness first. Abraham prays from the place where he already stands with God. Intercession is the holy use of that nearness. It belongs to a heart at rest about itself.
- Lowness rises. He calls himself dust and ashes and keeps speaking. The lower the heart descends, the higher the prayer ascends.
- Others only. He is safe from the coming judgment, and he asks nothing for himself. That is a high order of prayer: it is all about someone else.
- God's yes. Fifty, forty, thirty, twenty — God grants each one. Judgment is His strange work, and He would gladly have spared the city. Abraham stopped asking before God stopped giving.
- Grace beyond. He never dared name the one man on his heart, yet God rescued him. Our pleading has limits. The Intercessor who "always lives" has none.
And he said, Oh, let not the Lord be angry, that I speak yet but this time! Perhaps there may be ten found there. And he said, I will not destroy [it] for the ten's sake.
Abraham's sixth and last request drops the number to ten, and he prefaces it with an apology for asking at all. God agrees again. Yet the next chapter shows there were not even ten. So why did Abraham stop here, and what became of the one man he had in mind all along?
Abraham feels his smallness at every step down, and the last step is the most careful. His hesitation never once slows God's answer.
When Abraham lowers the number to forty-five, he takes the humble place. He is only a creature of dust speaking to his infinitely great Creator. Yet he asks out of confidence in the living God... Then to thirty, and lower yet to twenty, and finally to ten. Each time he shows that he feels unworthy to ask. But the Lord loves to encourage confidence in His grace. He declares that He will not destroy the city if there are even ten righteous people in it.
The number is not random. Abraham had one household in view, and ten is likely what he counted in it.
He reasoned before the Lord in the assurance that the Judge of all the earth would do right, and in his pleadings he doubtless had Lot and his family in view. In the next chapter we read of Lot's sons-in-law. So he probably counted his wife, his unmarried daughters, his married daughters and their husbands. Together they might come to as many as ten in Sodom who could be counted righteous. So, starting at fifty, and going down to forty-five, forty, thirty, twenty, he stopped satisfied at ten. The next chapter shows that even ten were not there.
The man sets the limit here, not God. And what Abraham never dared to ask, God went on to do.
Why "this once"? Our faith never reaches up to the grace of God. We grow weary and fail; He does not. We get enough, through His grace, for our blessing, but we rarely venture into its depths. The Lord answered in full all that Abraham's faith dared to ask, yet His grace went far beyond it. It came down after all to that one person who lay on Abraham's heart, though Abraham did not have the boldness to say so. But the Lord knew it. He did not spare that wicked place, yet He still rescued that righteous soul despite his faults.
In the next chapter God rescues Lot — an answer to something Abraham never actually asked for.
Abraham had not definitely asked for this. Still, he kept pleading until he had the promise that God would spare the cities if only ten righteous people were inside. He surely had Lot and his family in mind. There were not ten righteous there. All the same, God answered the spirit of Abraham's prayer. He rescued the one man who could be called righteous.
Where Abraham's asking ended, the giving ended too. Christ's intercession has no such limit.
We see, in this scripture, that however blessed Abraham's intercession might be, it was limited, because the intercessor was only a man. It did not reach the need. He said, "I will speak again but this once," and there he stopped short. It was as if he feared he had asked too much from the treasury of infinite grace... There was plenty of grace and patience in God to have listened to His dear servant, had he gone on even to three or one. But the servant was limited... He stopped asking, and God stopped giving. Not so our blessed Intercessor. Of Him it can be said, "He is able to save to the uttermost... since He always lives to make intercession."
God would have spared a whole city for ten people. The same reason holds back judgment on the world today.
For the sake of the righteous the wicked are spared. "You are the salt of the earth." Had there been ten righteous men found in those five cities, they would have been spared. And the world is now preserved because the children of God are in it, for He is "not wishing that any should perish."
Judgment fell only when that margin was gone.
It is beautiful to see that the Lord does not judge Sodom until it has all become so bad that there were not even ten righteous persons there.
- Asking. Abraham comes as dust before his Creator, yet he keeps asking. Reverence and boldness belong together in prayer.
- Counting. Ten was likely Lot's household counted up. The next chapter shows even that number was too high.
- Stopping. "This once" was the limit of Abraham's faith, not of God's grace. God stopped giving because Abraham stopped asking.
- Exceeding. God answered the prayer's spirit rather than its letter, saving the one man Abraham never dared to name.
- Continuing. A human intercessor runs out. Christ never does. He saves to the uttermost, because He always lives to make intercession.
And Jehovah went away when he had ended speaking to Abraham; and Abraham returned to his place.
The chapter ends quietly: the pleading stops, God leaves, and Abraham walks home. The verse turns on who stopped the conversation, and on how much grace was still on offer when Abraham's words ran out.
God did not cut the exchange short. He kept answering as long as there was anything left to ask. He left only when Abraham had finished.
As long as Abraham stood interceding, the Lord stood promising.
Darby reads the ending as the close of a rare privilege.
It closed this wonderful conference. Abraham's words ran out, and the Lord had answered him to the end. Then He went His way, when He had finished speaking with Abraham. What a place for the child of faith to be in!
Abraham came down step by step: fifty, forty-five, forty, thirty, twenty. Then he said he would speak just once more. Kelly reads that "once more" as the point where the asking gave out, not the giving.
Why "this once"? Sadly, our faith never reaches up to the grace of God. We grow weary and fail; He does not. We get enough, through His grace, for our blessing, but we rarely venture into its depths. Measure it as we may, we certainly never reach the bottom.
The same limit is described as a failure to draw on what was on offer.
Each time God, in His grace, grants his request; until at last it is Abraham's faith that fails to draw upon that grace of God, that where sin abounds, grace abounds much more.
Abraham never got below ten. The next chapter shows what God did with what Abraham had asked.
Abraham is silent (v. 33): "And the LORD went his way, when he had finished speaking to Abraham." But He did more than Abraham asked. He withdrew Lot from Sodom and saved him. Nothing could be done until Lot was safe (Gen. 19:16, 22). God's eye was upon him. What blessedness to be able to count on His love for the righteous!
Kelly follows that grace past Abraham's last request, down to the man he never dared to name.
Jehovah answered in full everything Abraham's faith and confidence in His grace attempted. Yet His grace went far beyond that. It came down at last to the one person who lay on Abraham's heart, though he had not the boldness to say so. But Jehovah knew it. He did not spare that wicked place, for His righteous government made it an example of divine judgment. Even so, He rescued that righteous soul, in spite of his faults.
The pleading did not start with Abraham. It started when God told him what He was about to do, and treated him as someone worth telling.
When a soul is in this confidence, God shares His thoughts. Here He treats Abraham as a friend, telling him even what concerns the world. With a friend we do not speak of mere business, but of what we have on our heart. Intercession is the fruit of divine revelation and fellowship.
Losing that nearness shows up first in what we can no longer pray for.
If we cannot intercede for a person, the sin is stronger than our faith. When we are near God in practice, the Spirit which sees the sin intercedes for the sinner.
Darby reads the last clause as a step down — back to ordinary life, off the ground where Abraham had been praying.
Abraham was not in his own place, at home on earth, when he pleaded with the Lord. He was with Jehovah in the way of faith — we may say a heavenly way. He returned to his place, the home of nature. There he had received the Lord. But in his fellowship and intercession he was before the Lord, where the Lord had taken him.
Sodom had no ten righteous men. Later God narrowed the search to one.
Later God could say to Jeremiah about the doomed city of Jerusalem, "if you can find a man, one who does justice and seeks truth, that I may pardon her" (Jer. 5:1). We know that Man has been found. Christ is the "one mediator between God and men, the man Christ Jesus, who gave himself as a ransom for all." Through this Man we are told to intercede for all people (1 Tim. 2:1-6).
- Friendship first. God told Abraham what He was about to do, because He treated him as a friend. The praying grew out of that friendship, not the other way round.
- Faith measures. God kept answering as long as Abraham kept asking — the asking set the limit, not the supply.
- Faith stops early. Abraham reached ten and stopped. Our faith fails to reach the depth of grace; grace never fails us.
- Grace goes further. God went further than the asking. He spared no city, but pulled Lot out before judgment fell.
- One Man found. Sodom lacked ten righteous men, and God later looked in Jerusalem for a single man. That Man is Christ, and through Him we now pray for others.
And the two angels came to Sodom at even. And Lot was sitting in the gate of Sodom. And Lot saw them, and rose up to meet them; and he bowed down, the face toward the ground,
Genesis 19 opens with Abraham still interceding with God for the city. His nephew Lot is sitting in the gateway of that same city, and God is about to destroy it. That one detail — where Lot is sitting — raises the question commentators keep coming back to. What has this believer's chosen place cost him?
In the chapter before, the Lord Himself was among the visitors who came to Abraham. Here the group is smaller. One writer sees every detail of the arrival marking a contrast:
How every circumstance seems designed to bring out the contrast! Two angels come, not men: there is distance, not familiarity; and the Lord Himself does not come near. So communion there is not and cannot be. Evening, too, has fallen; they come in gloom, and as if not to be seen.
Another writer links the hour to their errand:
While the Lord came to Abraham in the full light of day, the two angels come to Sodom "in the evening." They come, not to give a public witness to Sodom, but, as it were, in the secrecy of the evening gloom to pull a falling saint out of the fire of judgment (Gen. 18:1; Gen. 19:1).
In an ancient city the gate was where elders sat to judge and to govern. So the phrase is not describing a man resting by the roadside:
As they approached, Lot was sitting in the gate of Sodom. That means, of course, that he had accepted the office of a magistrate in that extremely wicked city. He not only saw and heard terrible evils as a private person, but came into contact with it all as a magistrate.
More than one writer takes Lot's motive kindly. He settled in Sodom hoping to improve it. But one writer questions the method:
Lot was sitting in the gate, the place of a judge.
Lot rises, bows, and urges his guests to come home with him. Yet they refuse at first, and one writer weighs both facts:
The Lord no longer stoops to accompany His messengers, nor visits Lot as He visited Abraham. At last they yield to his pressure, enter his house, and accept his unleavened bread.
One writer opens this chapter by looking ahead:
The history that now opens before us is one of contrast, and it is full of instruction for us, who stand on the eve of a judgment far larger in scale. Our Lord Himself applies it, as He applies the disaster in the days of Noah, as a warning for the present… It will be a judgment of God… and as none of the wicked will understand, so none will escape.
This is also where the visitors are first called angels. One writer links that name to the reason Lot is saved at all:
Those who appear in Genesis 18 as "men" to Abraham go on to Sodom as "angels" in Genesis 19. They go there to deliver Lot, but they cannot show him the closeness they show to Abraham. Righteous as he is, and "greatly distressed by the sensual conduct of the wicked," he is still one who is "saved, but only as through fire." He is found, not in his tent door at Mamre, but in the "gate of Sodom." He is one of those righteous men in an evil place, for whom Abraham intercedes with God. When he is delivered, it is said of him: "God remembered Abraham, and sent Lot out of the midst of the overthrow, when He overthrew the cities in which Lot lived." (Gen. 19:29.)
- Place decides everything. Abraham is at his tent door outside; Lot sits in the city gate. The same day brings one man communion and the other a warning.
- The gate is an office. Lot had taken a seat of authority in Sodom, so he met its evil not just as a neighbour but as a magistrate.
- Position replaced testimony. Settled in Sodom hoping to improve it, he made himself unable to warn it of the judgment coming.
- Distance shows in the details. Two angels came, not the Lord. Evening, not full daylight. They refused Lot's invitation before accepting it. Courtesy survived; nearness did not.
- Grace reaches even there. God pulled Lot out of the fire of judgment because He remembered Abraham, who was interceding while Lot sat in the gate. Jesus later used that day as a warning.
and he said, Behold now, my lords, turn in, I pray you, into your servant's house, and lodge, and wash your feet; and ye shall rise up early, and go on your way. And they said, No; but we will pass the night in the open place.
Two angels reach Sodom in the evening, and Lot presses them to spend the night at his house. They refuse, and their answer raises a sharp question: why is Lot met so differently from Abraham, who welcomed heavenly guests one chapter earlier?
Lot's welcome is real, but it is stiffer than Abraham's, and he already suggests an early start for his guests.
Lot met the angels with great respect, though not with Abraham's refreshing warmth. Abraham had run to meet his visitors and bowed to the ground. Lot rose and bowed with his face toward the earth — a stiffer, more formal greeting. As a believer, he invited the men into his house for the night. He suggested they rise early and go on their way. Perhaps he felt it would not be very safe for the men to stay long... Lot urged them strongly. No doubt he realized the danger they would be in if they were outside.
The word "house" carries weight. Abraham lived in a tent, ready to move; Lot's address had become a fixed one inside the city he once only camped near.
Poor, selfish Lot! He had gone down to Sodom. From the tent pitched toward Sodom, he had ended up living in Sodom. There he no longer had a tent — he had a house. He had settled down and given up his character as pilgrim. His daughters were fully at home in Sodom, and they married unbelieving men of Sodom. More than that, Lot had taken a position in Sodom. He "was sitting in the gate of Sodom," and the mob said, "This fellow came to sojourn, and he has become the judge!"
The angels' answer is more than a polite decline.
The angels' word to Lot is an outright condemnation of his position in Sodom. They would rather spend the night in the town square than enter under the roof of one in a wrong position. Indeed, their only object in coming to Sodom seems to have been to rescue Lot, and that because of Abraham.
Commentators differ on where the fault lies. Mackintosh points to Lot's position in the city. Another writer points to the house itself.
They would not enter Lot's house. You say, Why not? I think the reason is very simple. They did not think Lot's house was of good repute. The behaviour in his house made the two messengers prefer to stay outside rather than go in. Christians, what a lesson for you and me. What is the atmosphere of your house and mine? Is the atmosphere of your house such that God would like to come into it?
Small details in this scene mark the distance between the guests and their host.
How every circumstance seems designed to bring out the contrast! Two angels come, not men: there is distance, not familiarity; and the Lord Himself does not come near. So there is no communion, and there cannot be. Evening has fallen too; they come in gloom, as if not to be seen. And although Lot's hospitality is as ready as Abraham's, there is no such readiness in the response... Off the path of faith, he does not master his circumstances; they master him.
The wording of the earlier visit sharpens the difference.
In chapter 18 we are told that when Abraham looked up, he saw three men standing near him. The true rendering of that word is "stationed themselves." It carries the sense of wanting to stay, in surroundings that suited them in every way. Is this not in sharp contrast to the two angels, who answered Lot's urgent pleading, "No; we will spend the night in the town square"?
Lot will not take no for an answer, and the refusal gives way. The messengers had their own reason for being in Sodom.
Lot's urgent pleading, however, wins the angelic messengers over. As we learn further on, God in His providence had sent them to keep Lot safe when the guilty cities were finally overthrown... Here was a man who tormented his righteous soul day after day over the lawless deeds of wicked men. He kept himself apart from the corruption around him, and could provide what suited his heavenly guests in every way. But he had no power to hold on to what pleased God, because of his unholy and defiling ties.
- Position. Lot no longer has a tent but a house, and a seat at the gate — he has traded the pilgrim's life for a settled place inside Sodom.
- Politeness. His welcome is real and respectful, yet formal, and he already wants his guests gone by daybreak.
- Refusal. Choosing the town square is rebuke, not rudeness. They would sooner sleep outdoors than under the roof of a man in a wrong position.
- Distance. Two angels instead of men, evening gloom, no visit from the Lord Himself — the setting leaves Lot no room for communion.
- Rescue. They give in to his pressing. But they came to get him out, and he had no power to hold back the evil he had settled among.
And he urged them greatly; and they turned in unto him, and entered into his house. And he made them a repast, and baked unleavened cakes; and they ate.
Two angels arrive at Sodom in the evening, and Lot has to beg them to come under his roof. Their hesitation, his feast, and his flat bread all reveal the man who once travelled with Abraham.
Lot has to press them because the messengers first refused. One writer explains that refusal from what Lot's home was like.
They would not enter Lot's house. You say, Why not? I think the reason is very simple. They did not think Lot's house had a good name. The way his household lived made the two messengers feel they would rather stay outside than go in. Christians, what a lesson for you and me. What is the atmosphere of your house and mine?
The contrast with the chapter before is hard to miss. Abraham's guests came in at once; Lot had to force his.
The Lord stayed to talk with Abraham, and only sent His angels to Sodom. Lot could barely persuade these angels to enter his house or accept his hospitality: they said, "No, we will stay in the street all night." What a rebuke! How different from Abraham's invitation, which they gladly accepted with the words, "Do as you have said."
They did come in at last. One writer says that this does not soften the rebuke.
The angels of the Lord would rather stay all night in the streets of guilty Sodom than go in to a child of His who was not walking in obedience. Their later agreement to go in does not weaken the point. Their answer teaches us something most solemn and practical. They do enter Lot's house, it is true; but if they do, it is only to undo the sad effects of Lot's sin.
Another writer sees fear behind Lot's pressing, and traces the visit itself back to Abraham's prayer.
Lot no doubt offered the angels hospitality partly because he knew all too well what kind of men the Sodomites were. Angels had no need of human protection, and they were very unwilling to accept what he offered. God's messengers had not come to be entertained in the doomed city. They came to carry out divine judgment. Their entry into his house, and their eating of his meal, showed God's mercy to him because Abraham had prayed, "Will you indeed sweep away the righteous with the wicked?"
Lot's table is not empty. What is missing is the Lord Himself.
The Lord no longer sees fit to accompany His messengers, nor visits Lot, as He visited Abraham. He would have been ashamed to be called the God of Lot. Lot "sat in the gate of Sodom," while his relative the pilgrim ran to meet them "from the tent door." Yet much was the same: no less courtesy, perhaps, but only a little hospitality.
Others compare the two meals.
Abraham's meal was simple, wholesome food, though he called it only "a morsel of bread." Lot clearly prepared city food, perhaps quite fancy, to make an impression.
The one detail the verse pauses on is the bread. One writer asks what it said about the man who baked it.
Leaven stands for evil, so unleavened bread in Scripture teaches separation from evil. Was Lot telling his visitors that he believed in separation from evil? If so, his lifestyle did not back it up.
Another writer looks at Israel eating unleavened bread in Egypt, and finds a warning there.
Their obedience to God's command was not, sadly, the fruit of a spirit of obedience. It came from necessity: they were forced out of Egypt… In the same way, when disaster and distress fall, men wake up to reality… There are times when even Lots become real. Yet this is only the fruit of circumstances. Nothing in it has to last, and it has no power to lift a man who is in fact so low.
For all the rebuke, Lot's kindness is not despised. Scripture later points back to this night to urge hospitality on us.
Scripture urges hospitality, and it encourages its readers by pointing them back to their own past: by welcoming strangers, some have entertained angels without knowing it. Lot showed his readiness to entertain the two angels who appeared as men at the gate of Sodom. He urged them strongly to enter his house, and they accepted. He feasted them, and then learned that his visitors were angels. Under God, he owed them his rescue the next morning (Gen. 19). Neither Abraham nor Lot had cause to regret his hospitality.
- Address — Lot lived in Sodom, and his house had Sodom's name. The messengers preferred the street to his door.
- Pressure — Abraham's guests came at once. Lot had to force the same welcome, yet it still brought his rescuers indoors.
- Mercy — They came in to undo the damage of his choices. That was an answer to Abraham's prayer, not a reward for Lot's table.
- Bread — Unleavened bread speaks of separation from evil; Lot could bake it, but his life did not match it.
- Reality — Hard times can make even a Lot real for a night. What circumstances give, circumstances take away.
Before they lay down, the men of the city, the men of Sodom, surrounded the house, from the youngest to the oldest -- all the people from every quarter.
The two visitors have barely stepped inside Lot's house when the whole town arrives at his door. This is not a gang or a fringe group. It is the whole male population, young and old, from every part of the city. Such complete corruption raises a hard question — about the city, and about the believer who chose to live in it.
The verse sets the stage. The next verse gives the demand. One writer sums up what the crowd came for:
But many men of Sodom, both young and old, rudely interrupted their visit. They boldly demanded that the two men who had come to Lot's home come out to them, to suffer the horror of homosexual relations (vv. 4-5).
The arrival of God's messengers did not create this evil. It brought the evil into the open, where Lot could say nothing to excuse it:
The presence of the angels exposed the wickedness of Sodom at Lot's very door. It only magnified the guilt of "both old and young, all the people from every quarter." What could Lot say to lessen such unbridled lust?
The phrases in this verse are the point. No age group is exempt and no district of the city is missing. One commentator reads the wording as the moment when the city's real character finally speaks for itself:
Their visit brings out the open and unnatural depravity of the people of the city — "both old and young, all the people from every quarter" (v. 4). They pour out their shame without shame (v. 5).
Just before this, Abraham had pleaded for the city. He asked God to spare it if ten righteous people could be found there. Verse 4 gives the answer, and the timing matters:
It is beautiful to see that the Lord does not judge Sodom until it has become so bad that not even ten righteous people are left there. If there had been ten, God would have spared the cities. Abraham keeps interceding until this comes to light.
One writer traces such evil back to its root:
The first chapter of Romans puts this before us. There we find a list of crimes that shames us even to read, given not as some rare result of man's sin, but as the natural fruit of his departure from God. God gives them over to evil like the evil that brought judgment on Sodom and Gomorrah. He gives them over to evil so corrupt that no one can even speak of it. It is as though the Spirit of God set the root and the fruit side by side and said to men: cut loose from God, and you give free rein to every form of evil the flesh can produce.
Lot had a seat in the gate of Sodom — a place of civic authority. The mob at his door shows what that position was worth:
The shameless proposal Lot made to his fellow citizens showed how powerless he was. The man who sat in Sodom's gate could not restrain their corrupt and lawless ways. If he had ever thought he could improve the people of Sodom by his influence and advice, this moment must have brought the truth home to his poor deceived heart. His life among them had been wasted, and all his efforts were useless.
Another writer explains why Lot could do nothing:
Off the path of faith, he does not master his circumstances; they master him. The men of Sodom break in on him. His very effort to host the heavenly guests only stirs up the lusts of the flesh.
Jesus pointed back to this night. One writer reads the scene as a picture of what is still ahead:
Lot holds an honoured place as a city official. But the city is doomed, and the time has come when it is ripe for judgment. From the Lord's own words in Luke 17, we know that this solemn scene foreshadows the judgment about to fall on this present evil world. There we read, "As it was in the days of Lot… so will it be on the day when the Son of Man is revealed."
- Exposed. The angels' arrival did not cause Sodom's sin. It drew that sin out into the open at Lot's door, where old and young alike stood condemned.
- Complete. "Both young and old, all the people to the last man" — the corruption had no exceptions. The search for ten righteous people had its answer.
- Patient. God waited until the evil was complete; ten righteous people would have saved the city.
- Powerless. Lot's seat in the gate gave him no power to stop anything. The world masters the believer who settles in it.
- Prophetic. Jesus pointed back to this night as a picture of the world's state on the day He is revealed.
And they called to Lot, and said to him, Where are the men that have come in to thee to-night? bring them out to us that we may know them.
The whole town — every man, young and old — comes to Lot's door and states its intention out loud. An evening of hospitality turns into a public display of Sodom's guilt — and it settles a case heaven had already opened.
The verse does not soften what the crowd wanted, and neither do the commentators.
But many men of Sodom, both young and old, rudely interrupted their visit. They boldly demanded that Lot bring out the two men who had come to his home, to subject them to the horror of homosexual relations.
The angels did not cause the evil. Their arrival brought it into the open.
The presence of the angels fully exposed the wickedness of Sodom at Lot's very door. It only increased the guilt of "both young and old, all the people to the last man." Lot might plead with the sinners to hold back from the gross evil planned in their wicked hearts... but he could not plead with the angels to spare the men of Sodom. Nothing but divine judgment could meet the evil.
God had said He would come down and see whether the reports matched the reality. That night at the door settled the question.
The Lord said, "Because the outcry against Sodom and Gomorrah is great and their sin is very grave, I will go down to see whether they have done altogether according to the outcry that has come to me." Sadly, when the angels came into Lot's house, they found that Sodom's grievous sin matched the cry the Lord had heard in heaven.
God's delay was never ignorance:
Of course the Lord knew every detail of the evil in those cities. But He is always slow to judge until the wickedness proves beyond remedy.
Commentators trace the outburst back to comfort. Sodom sat in a rich, easy place, and ease left the men time on their hands.
There was also "abundance of idleness," which gave the men of Sodom plenty of time for their pleasures. When Adam was driven from Eden, he was to eat of the ground with sorrow all the days of his life. God added, "By the sweat of your face you shall eat bread." ... With all their idleness, the men of Sodom had clearly managed to eat their bread without the sweat of Adam.
Lot sat in the gate, the seat of a judge. The crowd at his door showed what that was worth.
Lot's position as judge now counted for nothing. In fact they threw it back at him as though he had no right to the office at all. If he had flattered himself that he could exercise an influence for good, he was now undeceived.
The root of the failure was where Lot had chosen to live:
Lot settled in Sodom with apparently some hope of improving it. He was a righteous man, but he "tormented his righteous soul from day to day by seeing and hearing their lawless deeds" (2 Peter 2:8). He was simply in the wrong place, and made himself incapable of warning the people of God's judgment against evil.
The New Testament looks back at these cities and names the kind of sin it was.
Jude says: "Just as Sodom and Gomorrah and the surrounding cities, which likewise indulged in sexual immorality and pursued unnatural desire, serve as an example by undergoing a punishment of eternal fire." Here it is clear that this was a breaking out. It was not merely into sin, but into what was flagrant beyond measure — not evil alone, but contrary even to fallen nature.
Two things outlived the city — a word, and a warning:
The memory of the evil and its judgment has lasted. Our language still uses the word "sodomy" for sin of an especially vile and unnatural kind. This judgment, moreover, was a sample of what is yet to come on a much greater scale in "the day of judgment and destruction of the ungodly" (2 Peter 3:7).
Jesus Himself used this night as a preview of His return.
The city where Lot holds an honoured place as a magistrate is doomed to judgment. The time has come when it is ripe for judgment. From the Lord's own words in Luke 17 we know what this solemn scene means. It foreshadows the judgment about to fall on this present evil world. There we read, "As it was in the days of Lot... so will it be on the day when the Son of Man is revealed."
- Cry. Sodom's sin had already reached heaven as an outcry. God came down to see, and the demand at Lot's door matched the report.
- Cause. Plenty and idleness fed the appetite. These men ate their bread without Adam's sweat, and had spare time for their pleasures.
- Collapse. Lot sat in the gate as a judge. When the mob came, his office counted for nothing. Settling in the world gives a believer no power to restrain it.
- Condemnation. Scripture treats this as evil beyond ordinary sin, against even fallen nature. The ruined cities remain an example of judgment.
- Coming. The Lord makes that night a preview: as it was in the days of Lot, so will it be on the day when the Son of Man is revealed.
And Lot went out to them to the entrance, and shut the door after him,
Genesis 19 opens with two angels arriving at Sodom's gate, where Lot is sitting as a man of standing in the city. The crowd outside demands his guests, so Lot steps out and shuts the door behind him — an act that shows both what was good in him and how far he had drifted.
Going outside was in Lot's favour. He put himself at risk for the men under his roof. What he offered once he was outside was not to his credit.
Lot's concern for his guests was commendable. He even went outside, closing the door after him, to plead for the two men who had come under the shelter of his roof (vv. 6-8). But his offer of his daughters was far from commendable. How could he offer them to men of such vile character? He had no right to offer them to anybody, and they were already engaged to be married. He says the men had come to his home for protection. Abraham's words in Genesis 18:5 were very different. Abraham knew his visitors had come to have their hearts comforted by his fellowship.
The shut door had a second purpose. Lot was uneasy about the city he had chosen. He did not want his guests to see what he had settled into.
On the whole this is a sad scene. A believer in the world would have importance in it, and do good. He sits in the gate — the gate of Sodom! But Lot is not easy at being found there. He acts as though he were at ease, but he would keep the strangers from knowing what a place they had found him in. It is no use. He takes it on himself, uses atrocious means — for what could he do against them? Power delivers him, that is all.
Standing outside, Lot addresses the mob as his brothers. One writer links that word to something Lot had lost.
Lot goes out to plead for his guests and to reason with his fellow-townsmen. Sadly, he calls them "brothers." He even offers them his two daughters (vv. 6-8). He has lost the simplicity of faith. In this scene of difficulty, danger and surrounding wickedness he no longer looks only to the Lord. Instead he uses worldly wisdom, choosing what he thought was the lesser of two evils.
Lot meant to protect. What the scene proves is that he had no strength to do it.
We also see that Lot is a true believer. He recognises the heavenly visitors and treats them with due reverence. He seeks to honour them and to shelter them from the insults of the men of the world. Sadly, he only finds that he has no power to restrain their wickedness.
Lot did not arrive at this night in one move. One writer traces the steps that brought him to this door.
Bearing this in mind, our chapter is full of the most solemn warning for us all. He may have regarded his election as a judge as a step up; it was in truth a sad fall, bringing dreadful consequences. We saw him at first pitching his tent toward Sodom. Then he dwelt in it, and shared in its defeat, as recorded in Genesis 14. Now he has become a leader in it. And with what effect? Has he cleaned up its degraded morals? Has he improved its ethical standards? Not in the least! He has, as we shall see, only involved himself and his family in its evils.
Lot's pleading achieves nothing. The crowd turns on him, and the door he shut behind him becomes the door that saves him.
Lot argues with them. He pleads with them. He is even ready to degrade his own children to cover and protect these strangers. In the end the riot gets so bad that they say to him, "Stand back!" Their anger is roused, and they cry, "This fellow came to sojourn, and he has become the judge!" What moral power has he over them when their passions and lusts are roused? None. They tell him plainly, "Now we will deal worse with you than with them." They would have broken the door in. But at that moment the door opens, and the men pull Lot inside.
- Door out. Lot's going outside to plead for his guests was good — he put himself between them and the mob.
- Door shut. He also wanted to hide from the strangers what a place they had found him in. The closed door hid nothing.
- Door word. He called the mob "brothers." He had lost the simplicity of faith, and he now chose what he judged the lesser of two evils.
- Door powerless. Tent toward Sodom, then living in it, then leading in it. He improved nothing there, and he could not restrain the city's wickedness for a single night.
- Door opened. His pleading saved no one, including himself. Hands reached out from inside and pulled him in — power delivered him, and that was all.
and said, I pray you, my brethren, do not wickedly!
Lot steps out of his own front door, pulls it shut behind him, and addresses a mob bent on violence as family. He calls them "my brothers." That one word raises the question of the whole chapter. What happens to a believer's voice once he has settled down inside the place he is trying to correct?
Commentators fasten on that single word. It shows where Lot had come to belong.
Verses 6, 7. What a picture of the falseness of his position. How strange that he could have settled there — and my brothers!
That word was not his starting point. One writer traces the slow drift behind it.
Lot's speech plainly shows how deeply he had become involved in the affairs of Sodom. He intended to stay only a little while. Instead he became a judge among them, and he looked on them as his brothers. Many a Christian has become thoroughly immersed in the world in the same way. He has touched the world in some small way, meaning to get away again. But he has gone further and further into its ties, until he found himself helpless, or unwilling, to break them.
Lot puts himself between the crowd and his guests. Then he offers something no father had the right to offer.
Lot's concern for his guests was commendable. He even went outside, closing the door after him, to plead for the two men who had come under the shelter of his roof (verses 6-8). But his offer to sacrifice his daughters was far from commendable. He had no right to offer them to anybody. Children are not the property of their parents, and his daughters were already engaged to be married (verse 14).
Lot begs the men to hold back. His plea could go only so far.
Lot might plead with the sinners to hold back from the gross evil planned in their wicked hearts. He might propose a lesser evil, as he saw it, to spare the guests he had brought under the shelter of his house. But he could not plead with the angels to spare the men of Sodom. Nothing but divine judgment could meet the evil. Lot's shameless proposal to his fellow citizens showed how powerless he was. The man who sat in Sodom's gate could not restrain their corrupt and lawless ways. Perhaps he had once thought he could improve the people of Sodom by his influence and advice. If so, this moment must surely have shown his poor deluded heart that his life spent for them had been wasted.
Why did a righteous man reach for such a proposal? He had stopped looking to the Lord.
Lot goes out to plead for his guests and to reason with his fellow townsmen. Sadly, he calls them "brothers." He also offers his two daughters (verses 6-8). For he has lost the simplicity of faith. In this scene of difficulty, danger and surrounding wickedness he does not look only to the Lord. Instead he chooses by worldly wisdom what he thought was the lesser of two evils.
The crowd answers that this newcomer has made himself their judge. The taunt exposes his position.
If a man mixes with the world to get ahead, he must make up his mind to bear the sad consequences. We cannot profit from the world and testify effectively against its wickedness at the same time. "This fellow came to sojourn, and he has become the judge!" This will never do. The true way to judge is to stand apart, in the moral power of grace, not in the superior spirit of the Pharisees.
Lot's message that night was a plea for better behaviour. He had a better one to give.
Lot was sitting in the gate, the place of a judge. He was a believer making an effort to control the evil natures of ungodly men... the Christian is "not of this world." He has a message of grace with power to deliver people "from the present evil age" (Galatians 1:4)... Lot settled in Sodom with apparently some hope of improving it. He was a righteous man, but he "was tormenting his righteous soul over their lawless deeds that he saw and heard" (2 Peter 2:8). He was in the wrong place, and he made himself incapable of warning the people of God's judgment against evil.
- Wrong place. Lot meant to stay in Sodom a little while. He ended up seated in its gate, and that position cost him the power to warn anyone.
- Wrong word. Calling the mob "my brothers" exposed his false position. The men he rebuked were the company he had made his own.
- No power. He could ask them not to act wickedly; he could not stop them. His plea showed how little the man in the gate could restrain.
- No credibility. A believer cannot profit from the world and testify against it at the same time. True judging means standing apart in the power of grace.
- No resource. He had lost the simplicity of faith. So he weighed two evils instead of looking to the Lord, and the message that rescues people out of a doomed world went unspoken.
Behold now, I have two daughters who have not known a man let me now bring them out to you; and do to them as is good in your sight only, to these men do nothing; for therefore have they come under the shadow of my roof.
Lot stands outside his own door, bargaining with a mob, and the price he offers is his two daughters. It raises two questions: how could a man the Bible calls righteous say this, and what had brought him to it?
Lot's words come out of a mind that has stopped looking upward. One writer traces the offer to that failure.
Lot goes out to plead for his guests and to reason with his fellow-townsmen. Sadly, he calls them "brothers". He offers his two daughters (vv. 6-8). He has lost the simplicity of faith. This is a scene of difficulty, danger and surrounding wickedness. Instead of looking only to the Lord, he chooses by worldly wisdom what he thought was the lesser of two evils.
Protecting his guests was right; the means was not. A commentator points out that Lot had no authority over his daughters to give in the first place.
Lot's concern for his guests was commendable. He even went outside, closing the door behind him, to plead for the two men who had come under the shelter of his roof (vv. 6-8). But his offer to sacrifice his daughters was far from commendable. How could he offer his virgin daughters to men of such vile character? In fact, he had no right to offer them to anybody. Children are not the property of their parents. Besides, his daughters were already engaged to be married (v. 14). As for the two men, Lot says they had come to his home for protection. How different were Abraham's words in Gen. 18:5! Abraham realized that his visitors had come to have their hearts comforted by his fellowship. We may be sure that the two angels would not have allowed Lot to give his daughters to the men of the city.
The offer measures two things: what years in Sodom had done to Lot's thinking, and what his standing in the city was worth.
Lot tried to calm them by sacrificing his two unmarried daughters. That shows how low he had sunk in his own mind through Sodom's contamination. His position as judge now counted for nothing. They threw it back at him as though he had seized the office with no right. If he had flattered himself that he could have a good influence, he was now undeceived.
The men of Sodom threw Lot's position back in his face. One writer says their reply was fair.
He was troubling his righteous soul over their unlawful deeds. Yet the men of the city have a right to say to him, "What business have you here?" They said, "This fellow came to sojourn, and he has become the judge!" (v. 9). You are quarrelling with sin in the place of sin. They have a perfect right to judge like that. Association with the world destroys all power of testimony. He ought to be witnessing to his total separation from the world. There is vexation of spirit, but no power.
The end of the chapter shows what Lot's public office produced — including for the daughters he tried to bargain away here.
When Lot "sat in the gate of Sodom" (v. 1), he was acting as a magistrate. Being a righteous man, he must have longed to help improve its terrible state of unrighteousness and immorality. He achieved nothing. He only wrecked his own power to witness against it, and destroyed his family. "He seemed to his sons-in-law to be jesting" (v. 14). He himself barely escaped at the last moment, with no power to deliver others. He even lost his own wife. The angels did rescue his two unmarried daughters, but they soon drew their father, who had drifted away from God, into drunkenness and immorality — the very sins of Sodom itself.
Nothing in this chapter would lead you to call Lot a good man. Yet the New Testament does.
We cannot see any redeeming feature in the sad history. Yet the Holy Spirit is quick to discern anything of Christ in any one of us. He says that God "rescued righteous Lot, greatly distressed by the sensual conduct of the wicked (for as that righteous man lived among them day after day, he was tormenting his righteous soul over their lawless deeds)." How refreshing that verse is! It is like an oasis in the desert, a silver lining on a gloomy cloud.
(The quotation is from 2 Peter 2:7-8, given here in the ESV; the writer used an older translation.)
- Place. Lot's shocking offer is not an isolated lapse — it is the harvest of where he chose to live, "quarrelling with sin in the place of sin."
- Loss. Living inside Sodom cost him the simplicity of faith. In a crisis he weighed the lesser of two evils instead of looking to the Lord.
- Powerlessness. He had no right to offer his daughters. He had no strength to protect anyone. The mob turned on him instead.
- Family. He took office to improve the city. It wrecked his witness and ruined his family: wife lost, sons-in-law scornful, daughters corrupted.
- Mercy. Despite a record with no redeeming feature, God calls Lot righteous and rescues him. That is the one bright line in the story.
And they said, Back there! And they said [again], This one came to sojourn, and he must be a judge? Now we will deal worse with thee than with them. And they pressed hard on the man -- on Lot; and drew near to break the door.
The mob at Lot's door does not just refuse his plea — they turn on him. In one line they throw out the man who had set himself up as a judge among them, and the taunt shows what living in Sodom had cost him.
Lot spoke against their sin, but he spoke from inside their city. One writer grants the mob's objection its full force:
"The Lord knows how to rescue the godly from trials," and He delivers "righteous Lot." But while he was tormenting his righteous soul over their lawless deeds, the men of the city have a right to say to him, "What business have you here? This fellow came to sojourn, and he has become the judge" (v. 9). You are quarrelling with sin in the place of sin. Association with the world destroys all power of testimony, when he ought to be witnessing to his total separation from it. There is vexation of spirit, but not power.
"Sojourn" means a short stay. The sneer measures how far Lot had drifted from it — and what he ended up calling the men of Sodom:
And how very solemn to hear one who had been a companion of the man of faith speak to these debased Sodomites and call them "Brothers," only for them to revile, rebuke and threaten him. This was the world's reward to the righteous man who had given his life in service for them. Lot's address shows how far he had gone into the affairs of Sodom: his intention was to sojourn, to stay for a little while, but he became a judge among them and looked on them as his brothers.
Lot had made himself a judge in Sodom. That standing now bought him nothing:
Lot tried to calm the mob by offering them his two unmarried daughters. That shows how low he had sunk in his own mind through Sodom's corruption. Lot's position as judge now counted for nothing; in fact they flung it back at him as though he had been a mere usurper of the office.
Lot had an argument for staying: a good man's duty is to improve the place he lives in. One writer traces his slide back to that reasoning:
Step by step Lot drew nearer to guilty Sodom. How often he flattered and excused himself that his was the wise and right course, unlike his exclusive uncle Abraham! What is the use, what the duty, of a good man in the world, if not to improve it? ... Lot had no such clearness of vision. He had more confidence in human nature, more assurance of the moral influence of a good man like himself. He hears too late the rebuke of his folly from the lips of the most unclean Sodom: "This fellow came to sojourn, and he has become the judge."
The threat was not bluster. It turned at once into action against Lot:
He had judged them often. Day by day their abandoned way of life tormented his righteous soul, and his presence among them had no doubt curbed their lawless ways to some degree. But their resentment at his interference now comes out in their threat: "Now we will deal worse with you than with them." It was no idle threat, for "they pressed hard against the man Lot, and drew near to break the door down." If the angels had not stepped in, they would have carried out their wicked threat.
Can a person take profit from the world and correct it at the same time? One writer answers no, and gives the alternative:
If a man mingles with the world to get ahead, he must make up his mind to endure the sad consequences. "This fellow came to sojourn, and he has become the judge." This will never do. The true way to judge is to stand apart, in the moral power of grace, not in the superior spirit of self-righteousness.
Abraham stayed a stranger among his neighbours. The same world that told Lot to stand back had different words for him:
He confesses before the sons of Heth, "I am a sojourner and foreigner among you." As such he gains the respect of the world, for they say, "You are a prince of God among us." How striking the contrast to poor Lot — the believer who gave up his pilgrim character to dwell in Sodom. The world treats such a man with well-deserved contempt. In the day of his trouble they say, "Stand back… this fellow came to sojourn, and he has become the judge."
- Sojourn. Lot meant to stay a little while. The mob's own word for him shows he never planned to settle there.
- Settle. In the end he called the men of Sodom his brothers. That shows how far in he had gone.
- Judge. He became a judge, hoping a good man could improve the city. The men of Sodom flung the office back at him as if he had stolen it.
- Stand back. Nobody can profit from the world and rebuke it at the same time. Commentators say the mob's objection was fair — and its threat was real.
- Rescued. The door held only because the angels acted. Lot escaped the judgment, but with no power left to deliver anyone else.
And the men stretched out their hand, and brought Lot into the house to them, and shut the door.
The crowd of Sodom had turned on Lot and was pressing hard at his own door. His words and his standing in the city saved nothing; the guests he had taken in reached out and pulled him inside.
Lot had tried everything. He welcomed the visitors, appealed to the crowd, and even offered his own daughters. None of it held the men of Sodom back.
Lot is a true believer. He recognises the heavenly visitors and treats them with reverence. He seeks to honour them and to shelter them from the insults of the men of the world. Sadly, he only finds that he has no power to restrain their wickedness. In his desperation he is even ready to stoop to the shameful step of handing his two daughters over to the mob's lust, to quiet the uproar. His efforts only make the men of Sodom angrier. They tell him to "stand back." They argue that this man, who came among them as an outsider, now takes it on himself to act as their judge. With these threatening words they press hard on Lot. Only the angels' action saves him from the violence of the mob.
Lot also held office in Sodom. Another writer weighs what that was worth.
Lot's position as judge now counted for nothing. In fact they threw it back at him, as though he had seized the office with no right to it. If he had flattered himself that he could exercise an influence for good, he was now undeceived.
The angels pull Lot in and shut the door. What they do next is more than an escape plan.
The men of Sodom threatened to treat Lot worse than they had meant to treat his guests. Then the two men quickly pulled Lot back into the house and closed the door. But they did more than that. They used the power of God to strike the attackers blind, and this thwarted their wicked intentions. It is a picture of the way God will inflict judicial blindness on the ungodly. They have willingly blinded themselves to the truth of His word, and so they have laid themselves open to His dreadful judgment. Such blinding is a warning of greater judgment to come.
The order of events matters. The blindness came first, and the fire came after.
The world is left to its blindness and the next thing is that judgment falls.
The same visitors who blinded a city also drew one man out of it to safety.
We may gather from Scripture that the service of angels has a twofold character. On one hand they carry out judgment. On the other hand they are "ministering spirits sent out to serve for the sake of those who are to inherit salvation" (Ps. 104:4; Heb. 1:14). We see them in this twofold service at Sodom. They had come in judgment, to destroy the city. In God's providence they were also there to rescue a true believer from a false position!
Genesis 19 opens by calling the visitors "two angels." From this verse on, the account calls them "the men" again. One writer sees grace in that change.
How touching it is to see how, in the troubles that surround Lot in Sodom, these angels begin to appear as "men" again! (Gen. 19:10, 12, 16.) Sweet grace of God, shining out in the very middle of the trial from which it could not exempt us, because we needed that trial!
The angels pulled Lot inside. That was a rescue, not a victory — and when he went out to warn his family, nothing he said carried weight.
The believer in a false position has no power in testimony. Lot went out and warned his sons-in-law of the coming judgment, but to them he seemed to be joking. It was indeed a witness to the truth, but it condemned him. Had he not claimed to be a righteous man? Yet he was so drawn to Sodom that he chose to live there, and even took a leading part in its affairs. Did he really believe the LORD was about to destroy the city? His whole life flatly contradicted his testimony.
Another writer sets Lot beside Abraham.
On the heights, Abraham interceded as a friend with God. Down in the worldly cities of the plain, Lot was defiled and powerless. That contrast is worth careful thought, and it should sink into all our hearts.
- Powerless. Lot pleaded, bargained and pulled rank on the crowd. Nothing worked. Only the angels saved him.
- Pulled. The hand that reached out was not his own — the rescue came from outside the door, not from anything inside the house.
- Blinded. The angels blinded the attackers first, and judgment followed. It pictures the judicial blindness God sends on people who blind themselves to His word.
- Twofold. The same visitors came on two errands: to destroy a city, and to serve one believer as ministering spirits.
- Saved, yet loss. The angels brought Lot out alive, but his own family heard his warning as a joke. Rescue is not the same as a life that counts.
And they smote the men that were at the entrance of the house with blindness, from the smallest to the greatest; and they wearied themselves to find the entrance.
The men of Sodom are clawing at Lot's door. His two visitors answer the mob with a stroke of blindness that leaves the whole crowd fumbling in the dark. Two questions follow. Why blind these men instead of destroying them? And why did they keep hunting for the door once they were blind?
By this verse, everything Lot tried had failed: his appeal, his offer, his place in the city. He had nothing left. The rescue was not his doing.
Lot is a true believer. He recognizes the heavenly visitors and treats them with the respect they are due. He tries to honour them and to shelter them from the insults of the men of the world. Sadly, he only finds that he has no power to restrain their wickedness. In his desperation he is even ready to stoop to the shameful act of handing his two daughters over to their lust, to quiet the crowd. His efforts only rouse the anger of the men of Sodom. They tell him to "stand back." They argue that this man, who came among them as an outsider, now takes it on himself to act as their judge. With these threatening words they press hard on Lot. Only the action of the angels saves him from the violence of the mob.
The blow fell on the whole crowd, small and great alike. These men had already blinded themselves to God's word, and now God blinded their eyes.
The two men used the power of God to strike the attackers with blindness, and this stopped their wicked plans. It is a picture of how God will inflict judicial blindness on the ungodly. They have willingly blinded themselves to the truth of His word and laid themselves open to His dreadful judgment. Such blinding is a warning of greater judgment to come.
But if God takes a man's sight, how is the man still to blame? One writer answers.
God never made any man bad. But He may, and in certain cases does, give people up to the consequences of their own folly and evil. That is, He hardens in judgment those who treat His grace lightly and reject it... All are responsible. Sin destroys the ability to obey God, but not the responsibility.
Blind and worn out, they still groped for the door. God's hand had touched them, and they did not stop.
I suppose this shows very persevering wickedness; no sense of God's hand on them.
The blindness bought one night, no more. It stopped the crime without changing the criminals.
As the struggle reached its climax, the angels stepped in and took charge. Their power blinded the evildoers, and it left them baffled for that night, just before their destruction the next morning.
This blindness did not end at Sodom. One writer sees it in people who hold the Bible and still cannot see what is in it.
God is striking this land with blindness, you may be certain... Only the Holy Spirit gives a right understanding of Scripture. The natural person does not understand the things of the Spirit of God, and that is the lesson one learns from Sodom in Lot's day. God leaves the world in its blindness, and the next thing is that judgment falls.
Lot had lived in Sodom for years and disapproved of what he saw. Now the mob turns on him.
Some Christians think they can help the men of this world do what is right by joining hands with them. They would do well to study how the men of Sodom treated Lot at this point. He had often judged them. Day by day their shameless way of life distressed his righteous soul. His presence among them had no doubt curbed their lawless ways to some degree. But their resentment at his interference now comes out in their threat: "Now we will deal worse with you than with them." It was no idle threat... If the angels had not stepped in, they would have carried it out.
- Light refused. The blindness fell on men who had already shut their eyes to God's word. God gives people up to the results of the evil they choose.
- Light removed. Judicial blindness takes away the ability to obey. It never takes away the responsibility. The blind man is still accountable.
- Sin persists. Struck blind, they still searched for the door: wickedness that keeps going with no sense of God's hand on it.
- Judgment falls. The blindness only baffled them for one night; it was a warning of the greater judgment that came at dawn.
- Lot's lesson. A believer who joins hands with the world loses the power to restrain it. Lot became the mob's target, and only the angels saved him.
And the men said to Lot, Whom hast thou here besides? a son-in-law, and thy sons, and thy daughters, and all whom thou hast in the city -- bring [them] out of the place.
Two visitors are in Lot's house in Sodom. They turn to him with a question and a command. The city is about to be destroyed, and there is still time to get people out.
The command comes with a reason. The outcry against Sodom had reached God, and He sent the visitors to destroy the city. One writer notes that its guilt was beyond doubt.
The men then speak to Lot with great urgency. No doubt at all remains about how great Sodom's wickedness was. They have shown it in public, without shame. The only answer to this whole matter is the well deserved judgment of God. They would destroy the city because its iniquity had passed all bounds and the Lord had sent them to destroy it. What news of terrible weight for Lot!
That outcry had been building for a long time.
We have already learned that "the men of Sodom were wicked, great sinners against the Lord" (Genesis 13:13). Now we learn that their sin cried out to the Lord for judgment, for it was "very grievous." God waits. He bears long with the wickedness of men, but He is not indifferent to sin. It cries out to Him until at last it is ripe for judgment.
The first words to Lot are a question about other people. One writer sees a principle here: God's mercy reaches the whole family of a righteous man.
We call attention here to Lot's own family. Not only Lot, but his family too were spared, or had the opportunity of being spared, in that day of destroying judgment. Remember that Lot, in spite of his grievous position, was a "righteous man" (2 Peter 2:8). God linked the family of His servant with him. His mercy and grace went out and embraced everyone connected with the righteous man, offering them salvation from the judgment about to fall on that doomed place.
The call to leave hit Lot hard. His whole life was inside those walls.
It was hard for Lot to leave the city. In it were all his possessions, all his associations, everything he had worked for, everything he had found his life in, and perhaps some of his relatives (see Genesis 19:12). Poor Lot and his wife and daughters were almost dragged out of Sodom. Their hearts were tied to the evil city by many strong bonds. What did they have outside it?
Lot carried the warning out to his family. Writers point to why it carried no weight: his own choices had said the opposite.
A short pause is allowed. In it Lot carries a message to his son-in-law, a testimony about the judgment coming fast. But what power could that testimony have? It came from a man who had chosen to come in and settle among them… How could Lot expect his words to carry any weight when his ways had so sadly contradicted them?
Another writer goes further. Lot was a righteous man, and that did not repair the damage.
And then we see how complete the wreck of his testimony had been, in a man who was himself righteous. That very character of his would only help them reject so strange a story. Would God bring striking judgment on a place for its wickedness, when Sodom had proved so attractive to righteous Lot?
Who exactly was in the list? Commentators differ, and the Hebrew leaves room for both readings.
Very able scholars agree with the Latin translation here. The two daughters were only engaged and still living in their father's house, not yet taken to their future homes. The Hebrew allows the Revisers' marginal reading in verse 14, "were to marry"; the word means "the takers of." The older English translation follows the Greek. If they were right, it would mean there were other married daughters who died in the judgment that fell on Sodom.
One writer turns the question to the reader today:
Are you the only one in your family? Have you any still unsaved? "Bring them out," says God. "Get them out of the world. Break the fatal spell that ties them to the world of the dead. Loosen the chain that holds them. Bring them out to Jesus." He wants your faith to pierce the clouds, make its way to the very throne of God, and leave your loved ones there at the feet of Jesus.
- Cry — Sodom's sin had been crying out to God for a long time; He bears long with wickedness but is never indifferent to it.
- Command — the outcry reached its limit. The answer was judgment, with an order attached: bring them out.
- Circle — the first word to Lot asks about everyone else. His family had the same offer of rescue he had.
- Cost — everything Lot owned and loved was in the city. That is why he had to be almost dragged out.
- Credibility — the warning was true. But Lot's own life had contradicted it, so his words carried no weight.
For we are going to destroy this place, because the cry of them is great before Jehovah, and Jehovah has sent us to destroy it.
The two visitors at Lot's door came as guests, but now they speak as executioners. They name who sent them, why they came, and how little time is left.
The reason given for Sodom's destruction is a sound — an outcry that has grown loud in God's hearing. One writer follows this idea through the Bible. Sin itself has a voice.
It is a solemn truth, reader, that sin has a voice, which cries to heaven for God's righteous retribution. The word of God, both in the Old Testament and in the New, confirms it. God says to Cain, "What have you done? The voice of your brother's blood is crying to me from the ground." God then pronounces judgment upon Cain. In the New Testament we read: "Behold, the wages of the laborers who mowed your fields, which you kept back by fraud, are crying out against you, and the cries of the harvesters have reached the ears of the Lord of hosts."
The night just past had confirmed the report. When the men of the city surrounded Lot's house, heaven's information proved exact.
The pride, luxury and leisure of Sodom brought in grievous sin, which was not unnoticed by God... when the angels were in the house of Lot, they found that Sodom's grievous sin matched the outcry the Lord had heard in heaven.
The cry had been rising for a long time before this night. God's delay was never indifference, and it was never permanent.
God waits and bears long with the wickedness of men, but He is not indifferent to sin. It cries out to Him until at last it is ripe for judgment. But, even so, the Lord is slow to judge.
The same messengers who announce the ruin are the ones asking Lot to name everyone he wants saved. One writer notices that their assignment runs in both directions.
They have a double commission. The Lord sends them to announce the coming judgment. But before it falls, they want to rescue not only Lot himself, but anyone Lot cares about. How touching are these words: "Have you anyone else here?"
The same question presses on every believer with unsaved family.
Christian! Have you no unconverted sons? Have you no unconverted daughters? Have you no unconverted loved ones? Hear God's solemn question and command of grace: "Have you anyone else here?... bring them out of the place."
Lot carries the message, but it carries no weight. One writer traces that to the life Lot had built in Sodom.
There is a moment's pause, and Lot carries a message to his sons-in-law, a testimony about the judgment rushing toward them. But what power could his testimony have? He had chosen to come and settle among them, and they had lived and moved from earliest childhood in the middle of that godless scene. How could Lot expect his words to carry any weight when his ways had so sadly contradicted them?
Another writer turns the lesson on us:
Let us be deeply serious as we testify. God's judgment will fall very soon on a godless world, and the only escape is in Christ Jesus.
The destruction is certain, yet it waits. Later the angel tells Lot he cannot act until Lot reaches safety. One writer presses on that word.
Why "cannot"? Not because the power to judge was lacking. The reason is a fixed principle of God's ways: wrath that punishes forever must never touch His people... The "vengeance of eternal fire" could never touch Lot, since he was a righteous man, though a misguided one.
Sodom's end is not only history. One writer reads it as a preview.
Lot holds an honoured place in this city as a magistrate. But the city is doomed, and the time has come when it is ripe for judgment. The Lord's own words in Luke 17 show that this solemn scene points forward to the judgment about to fall on this present evil world. There we read, "Just as it was in the days of Lot... so will it be on the day when the Son of Man is revealed."
- Cry — Sin is not silent; it has a voice that reaches God and calls for His righteous response.
- Patience — God bears long with wickedness. He is not indifferent, and He is not quick — but sin ripens for judgment.
- Grace — The messengers of destruction ask a rescue question first: is there anyone else to bring out?
- Credibility — Lot's warning was true, but his settled life in Sodom had already contradicted his words.
- Escape — Judgment could not fall while a righteous man was still inside. The same pattern holds for the day the Son of Man is revealed.
And Lot went out, and spoke to his sons-in-law, who had married his daughters, and said, Up, go out of this place, for Jehovah will destroy the city. But he was as if he jested, in the sight of his sons-in-law.
Lot has one night to get his family out of Sodom, and his warning falls flat. His sons-in-law hear that the city is doomed and take it as a joke. Why did nobody believe him?
The wording is easy to read backwards. It does not say the sons-in-law made fun of Lot. It says Lot came across to them as a man making fun of them. Older translations render this as "he seemed as one that mocked."
Lot now saw everything in a very different light, and went out to his sons-in-law to warn and deliver them. But to them he seemed "as one that mocked." Notice: it does not say that they mocked him. It says they thought he was mocking them, or making fun of them — that he was really joking... We shall each do well to ask ourselves this question. If I testify that the second coming of Christ draws near, and that it brings the judgment of the present world system, will they take me seriously? Or will my manner of life lead them to think that I am joking?
They were not being rude. They simply drew the obvious conclusion from what they knew of him.
Do the sons-in-law mock Lot? Oh, dear, no! They have too much reverence for that. They do not mock him. They listen to his words, hear all he had to say, and draw their conclusion.
Lot had chosen Sodom, moved in, and taken a public seat in its affairs. His panic on the last night could not undo the years his neighbours had watched.
Lot had come in and settled among them by his own choice. What power could his testimony have on people who had lived and moved in the middle of that ungodly scene since their earliest childhood? How could Lot expect that his words would have any weight when his ways had so sadly contradicted them? He might now urge them, with terrified face and earnest pleading, to leave a place he knew was doomed to everlasting destruction. But they could not forget the calm and deliberate way in which he had at first "pitched his tent toward Sodom," and finally taken his seat "in the gate." His sons-in-law were doubtless responsible before God for rejecting the testimony; but Lot could not expect them to pay him much attention.
The message itself was true. What failed was the messenger's standing to deliver it.
The angels told Lot to warn his relatives that the LORD is about to destroy the city. This brings to light the solemn fact that the believer in a false position has no power in testimony... His warning was indeed a witness to the truth, but it condemned Lot himself.
Something in Lot's normal manner made "he's joking" the natural reading of his face that night.
"He seemed as one that jested." That speaks volumes to me... Through the bitterness of personal experience I can understand, better than you may, that Lot had been in the habit of jesting, even though his soul was troubled. He may have been a very witty man, always ready with a joke. Whether this is so or not, I am sure it was not the first time Lot had jested with his sons-in-law. Otherwise they could never have mistaken his desperate earnestness on that awful night for a jest.
Translations differ here. The ESV says the sons-in-law "were to marry" his daughters; other versions say they had already married them. Commentators read the Hebrew two ways.
Very competent people agree with the Latin Vulgate here. They hold that the two daughters were only engaged and still in their father's house, not yet taken to their future homes. So the Hebrew well bears the margin of the Revised Version, "were to marry" in verse 14; it is literally "the takers of." ... If these are right, it would of course mean there were other married daughters who perished in the judgment that fell on Sodom.
Lot's sons never even heard the warning.
Why did he not warn his sons? Did he think it was no use saying anything to them? ... It is not surprising if his sons received no good, solid instruction from him, backed up by faithful example. Let us be deeply serious in our testimony that God's judgment will fall very soon on an ungodly world, and that only in Christ Jesus is there any escape.
The refusal was not stupidity. Sodom looked safe, and that made the warning sound absurd.
The very idea of their city being overthrown was ridiculous. Sodom had never been busier or more prosperous. The sun was shining, and there was no sign of coming judgment. They refused the message that told them of the way of escape, and perished in its overthrow. It was sheer unbelief, and how many times has the preacher seemed to you as one who mocked? But search the Scriptures, and see whether these things are true or not.
- Read it right. The sons-in-law did not laugh at Lot. To them, Lot seemed to be joking. The failure was on the messenger's side.
- Life first. His ways had contradicted his words, so his words carried no weight. A believer in a false position has no power in testimony.
- Habit costs. Nobody believed the joker when he was in deadly earnest, and his hearers perished.
- Reach ends at home. He warned his sons-in-law. No sons came out, and only two daughters escaped. A spent witness reaches no further.
- Same night, still running. Sodom looked sunny, busy and prosperous when the warning came. Refusing it was unbelief, not proof of safety. Search the Scriptures — the only escape from judgment is in Christ Jesus.
And as the dawn arose, the angels urged Lot, saying, Up, take thy wife and thy two daughters who are present, lest thou perish in the iniquity of the city.
At daybreak the angels press Lot to leave, on the last morning Sodom will ever see. Three things stand out here: the mercy in the call, the need to hurry a rescued man, and the cost of his delay.
The call at dawn is not a new task for Lot. It is a rescue for a man whose chance to serve God in Sodom is gone.
Mercy always triumphs over judgment, and this scene is no exception. "Up! Take your wife and your two daughters who are here, lest you be swept away in the punishment of the city" was Mercy's voice to Lot. She says to Lot, so to speak: "You cannot impress other people now. You have had your chance, and you have missed it. You might have been God's witness in Sodom. You have failed in this, and lost your opportunity. Now, before judgment falls on it, escape yourself." And what does he do? He lingers. He procrastinates. He begins, we might say, the sad history of procrastinators — a race you read much about in Scripture and see all around you.
The angels do not say "your two daughters". They say the two "who are here". Asked whether Lot had only those two, one writer answered:
It seems that besides the two unmarried daughters in his house, Lot had other daughters outside with his sons-in-law. He tried in vain to save them from the doomed city. Excellent men have often made this mistake, but that carries no weight against the plain force of the word.
Strangest of all, the angels had to push a rescued man toward the door. The reason lay in everything the city held for him.
It was hard for Lot to leave the city. In it were all his possessions, all his associations, everything he had worked for, everything he had found his life in. Some of his relatives may have been there too. Poor Lot and his wife and daughters were almost dragged out of Sodom. Many strong bonds tied their hearts to the evil city. And what did they have outside it?
Another writer traces the delay deeper, to what unbelief does to the heart.
The Lord sends Lot out of the middle of the overthrow. Angels warn him, and faith makes him listen. But his heart is still there. There are connections that bind him to Sodom, and he would like to take them with him. But you cannot take anything out of Sodom for God; you must leave it all behind. The Lord must put the pain where you find the pleasure. He still lingered. There is hesitation and lingering in the place of judgment, though God has already announced His judgment. He should have left at once. But the place, the path, and the spirit of unbelief drain the heart. If the Lord shows His faithfulness in saving Lot, He shows it also in breaking the links that bind him to the place.
Lot's delay decided how he left, and how he left decided what he kept.
When morning came the angels had to urge him to leave the city. Yet still he lingered. Did he want to take at least some of his possessions with him? Then the angels took him, his wife and his two daughters by the hand and all but dragged them out of the house. They had two hands each, so that was all they could take.
Writers turn the scene toward us. The same pattern runs on today: a warning given, and hearts still tied to a doomed place.
If Lot could have looked ahead to this moment, and foreseen the doom of the cities of the plain when he chose the well-watered plain of Jordan, he might have chosen differently. But even that choice would not have come from a purer heart. God has forewarned us of the coming judgment of the world. Despite this, many Christians are entangled in its connections, chasing its pleasures and its prizes. Like Lot, they will have to be dragged out of the world when the Lord Jesus Christ comes.
- Morning. The angels come at dawn with one word for Lot: get up and get out before judgment falls.
- Mercy. The command is mercy speaking. Lot had already lost his chance to be God's witness in Sodom, and mercy still came for him.
- Here. The angels name only the daughters "who are here". Other daughters were outside with his sons-in-law, and Lot tried in vain to save them.
- Lingering. Everything Lot had worked for sat inside the city. Unbelief drained his heart, so he hesitated when he should have run.
- Hands. Lot left with only what two hands could hold. The rescue was complete; the loss was total. Writers hold the same picture up to believers tied to this world today.
And as he lingered, the men laid hold on his hand, and on the hand of his wife, and on the hand of his two daughters, Jehovah being merciful to him; and they led him out, and set him without the city.
Morning had come. Sodom stood under sentence, and the only righteous man in the city still would not move. What holds a believer to a place already under sentence, and what does God do about it?
The delay is the strange thing. The angels had warned him and urged him to go. Still Lot dragged his feet. One commentator traces that delay to where Lot had been living.
"But he lingered" — there is hesitation and lingering in the place of judgment, when the judgment has already been pronounced. He ought to have left at once. But the place, the path, and the spirit of unbelief weaken the heart.
Something was pulling against the angels' grip. Lot was not leaving an address; he was leaving a life he had built.
How compassionate and patient God is! He was not content with urging Lot: "But he lingered. So the men seized him and his wife and his two daughters by the hand, the LORD being merciful to him." It was hard for Lot to leave the city. In it were all his possessions and all his associations. There too was everything he had worked for, everything he had found his life in, and perhaps some of his own relatives. Poor Lot and his wife and daughters were almost dragged out of Sodom, because their hearts were tied to the evil city by many strong bonds. And what did they have outside it? Sadly, many Christians are like Lot. Their practical ties are with this present world, and they know little of the bonds that bind a true believer to Christ in heaven.
He did not walk out. The angels pulled him out — and the way they did it settles what he could carry with him.
Then the angels literally took him, his wife and his two daughters by the hand and all but dragged them out of the house. They had two hands each, so that was all they could take.
One writer sees God's own character in that grip.
Oh, what grace! It is just like God's grace to take a lingerer by the hand.
Lot came out alive. He came out with nothing else.
Even while warning others, Lot is reluctant to leave Sodom. When urged to hurry out of the doomed city, we read "he lingered." Even so, the mercy of the LORD "brought him out and set him outside the city." His wife and two daughters are brought out with him, but all his possessions are left behind. He is saved so as through fire.
The loss was not a side effect of the rescue.
If the Lord's faithfulness is shown in saving Lot, it is shown also in breaking the links that bind him to the place.
Just before this, Abraham had pleaded with God over the city. What God then did for Lot went beyond what Abraham had asked.
Abraham is silent, "and the LORD went his way, when he had finished speaking to Abraham"; but He did more than Abraham asked. He withdrew Lot from Sodom and saved him. Nothing could be done till Lot was safe. God's eye was on him. What blessedness to be able to count on His love for the righteous!
The mercy shown here is real, but it is not an argument for waiting. One writer turns the verse straight on the reader who keeps postponing the decision.
There is nothing that leads a person to ruin like procrastination. It means putting off till tomorrow what should be done today… May the Lord's mercy meet you, as it met Lot. The infinite mercy of that God has spared you until now, and again gives you the opportunity of salvation through this simple message.
- Cause. Lot lingered because he had settled in a city already under sentence. Living there had weakened his heart for the moment he most needed to act.
- Ties. His possessions, his associations, everything he had worked for — all of it was in Sodom. That is why the angels almost had to drag him out.
- Grip. Mercy did not argue with the lingerer; it took him by the hand. Grace does that, and two hands each was the measure of all he carried away.
- Loss. Mercy set him outside the city alive, but with nothing — saved as through fire. His wife and daughters came out with him; his goods stayed behind.
- Result. God did more than Abraham asked; nothing could be done until Lot was safe. His eye was on the righteous man. That same mercy is why a warning, not fire, reaches you today.
And it came to pass when they had brought them outside, that he said, Escape for thy life look not behind thee, neither stay thou in all the plain escape to the mountain, lest thou perish.
The angels have taken Lot by the hand and set him outside Sodom, and one command follows: run, don't look back, don't stop in the valley, reach the hills. Everything he built is behind him, and the verse presses one question: will a rescued man obey the word that rescued him?
The command comes to a man the angels have just led out. One writer traces both sides of that mercy — God saves him, and God also cuts the ties holding him.
The Lord sends Lot out of the middle of the destruction. Angels warn him, and faith makes him listen. But his heart is still there. There are connections that bind him to Sodom, and he would gladly take them with him. But you cannot take anything with you for God out of Sodom; you must leave it all behind. The Lord must put the pain where you find the pleasure… As for the goods, the sheep, and all the cattle, he must leave them behind. If the Lord's faithfulness is shown in saving Lot, it is shown also in breaking the links that bind him to the place.
The verse does not stop at "escape" — it names a destination. Leaving the city is one thing; arriving is another. (The writers quoted here say "mountain" and "plain"; the ESV reads "hills" and "valley.")
Led outside the city, he and those with him are put on the road to safety; but being on the road is not enough — they must reach the spot of safety… Sinner, have you really escaped to Christ?… There is nothing but judgment for those who linger in the plain. There is no safety until you reach God's appointed spot at the mountain top.
Lot had once chosen the plain because it looked rich. The place he is now sent to is the opposite kind of ground.
The mountains speak of a level higher than that of the world. They picture the presence of God, the only real safety.
Judgment falls on the plain too, so the very ground he had valued gives him nothing.
In God's goodness Lot escapes the fire; under God's government he still loses all his possessions, and finds the things he had valued reduced to ashes. The plain that had appeared to him as the garden of God holds no refuge for him; it too is to be destroyed. All its rich and fertile pastures were soon to be like a smoking furnace. What a lesson for the Christian! What a warning for those who seek to settle down in the delights of a doomed world!
The next verses show what happens when someone ignores this command. One writer draws out the meaning of the punishment itself.
When the angels brought Lot out of Sodom, their command was, "Escape for your life. Do not look back." But Lot's wife "looked back, and she became a pillar of salt." God had brought her out of Sodom, yet she had left her heart there. She cared more about Sodom than about the word of God spoken by the angels… To the disciples, the Lord Jesus said, "You are the salt of the earth." Lot and his wife should have been "salt" in this way in Sodom. What she should have been in character inside Sodom, she becomes in body outside it — a monument to "the goodness and the severity of God."
Lot answers this command by asking for a nearer, smaller place. One writer sees that plea repeated ever since — a real step away from evil that stops short of the goal.
Neutrality is the Zoar, the little city, to which many a righteous Lot has fled for refuge since the days of Genesis 19. It is not Sodom, it is far removed from that wicked city, but it is not the "mountain," God's place of safety. It is a place reached without much difficulty, because it is in the plain. No hard climb up the mountain lies before those who want to reach it… Still, it is a step in the right direction, and so is every step away from evil. But it is a resting place short of the goal, so it becomes a snare.
Why does a rescued man bargain for less? One writer points to what unbelief does to a believer's judgment.
He has lost the sense of security in the path of faith. That is always the result of the path of unbelief in a believer: he thinks the path of faith is the most dangerous path in the world.
- Escape. The danger is real, so the word is urgent. The same hand that rescues also breaks the ties holding a man to the doomed place.
- Empty-handed. No one can carry anything out of Sodom for God — goods, flocks and cattle all stay behind, and what Lot valued ends in ashes.
- Eyes forward. "Do not look back" tested whether the word of God outweighed Sodom. Lot's wife failed, and became a monument of God's goodness and His severity.
- Elevation. The valley that once looked like the garden of God is doomed too. Safety lies only on higher ground, which pictures the presence of God.
- Every step. Out of the city is not the same as reaching the hills. A step in the right direction that stops short becomes a snare — halfway is not safety.
And Lot said to them, Not [so], I pray thee, Lord;
Angels have just pulled Lot out of Sodom and told him to run for the hills. His first answer is a refusal — why would a rescued man argue with the terms of his own rescue?
The refusal is not defiance but panic. The angel gives him a clear direction, and he cannot bring himself to take it.
What a picture! He seems like a drowning man, ready to catch even at a floating feather. The angel commanded him to flee to the mountain, but he refuses. He still clings to the idea of "a little city" — some little shred of the world. He feared death in the very place where God, in mercy, was directing him... He does not cast himself wholly on God. Sadly, he had walked too long at a distance from Him. He had breathed the thick air of a "city" too long. So he could not value the pure air of God's presence, or lean on the arm of the Almighty.
What Lot says next is a prayer. It is polite, grateful, and full of distrust. He thanks God for mercy already given, and refuses the mercy God offers now.
How many prayers unbelief dictates! And how plainly it marks this prayer all the way through! He admits a mercy he still dare not trust. He asks God for Zoar as a little city, so that He would spare it because it is little. And he asks for his own good, not for the human lives at stake. How base unbelief is! How wonderful the goodness that could spare Zoar at such a request!
The place Lot dreads is the very place Abraham had walked with God. Two believers looked at the same high ground and saw opposite things.
From the outside, the path of faith looks very painful. But for everyone who walks in it, it is full of sweetness and peace. The mountains, where God talked with Abraham and Abraham with God, were an object of terror to Lot. He thought he would die there.
One chapter earlier, Abraham prayed for other people. Here Lot pleads only for himself. Two prayers, two very different lives.
Are we interceding for others in love, as Abraham does in Genesis 18? Or are we begging off from what we dread, as Lot does in Genesis 19?... So it always is. Saints who live like everyone else in the world share the world's fears. Their prayers taste of its condition.
Lot's argument is size. He is not asking to stay in Sodom; he is asking for a smaller version of it.
Going into Zoar is like people who want to be saved, but want a little bit of the world as well. "Is it not a little one?" says Lot — that is, he is half-hearted. Must I make a clean break? he asks.
A Zoar is easy to reach. That is what makes it dangerous.
Neutrality is the Zoar, the little city, that many a righteous Lot has fled to for refuge since the days of Genesis 19. It is not Sodom, it is far removed from that wicked city, but neither is it the "mountain," God's place of safety. It is an easy place to reach. It lies in the plain, and no hard climb stands in the way of anyone who wants to get there... It is still a step in the right direction, but because it is a resting place short of the goal, it becomes a snare.
God grants what Lot asks. But later the chapter gives a reason that points away from Lot, and Lot does not stay in the town he begged for.
"And Lot went up out of Zoar and lived in the hills with his two daughters, for he was afraid to live in Zoar. So he lived in a cave with his two daughters" (verse 30)... Nothing could be done to Sodom and Gomorrah until Lot reached Zoar; but was that not for Abraham's sake? It happened then and there because "God remembered" — not Lot, but "Abraham."
The escape he asked for did not hold him long.
Yet he is not at ease even in Zoar, for he leaves it and goes up to the mountain. He does, through fear, what he would not do at the command of God's messenger.
- Rescued. Lot really is saved. Stronger hands pull him out. His failure is not whether he escapes, but how far he goes.
- Refusing. His "no" is fear, not rebellion: he dreads the mountain God points him to and trusts a town he can see instead.
- Praying. His prayer is built on unbelief. He thanks God for past mercy, will not trust present mercy, and asks only for himself.
- Shrinking. "Is it not a little one?" is half-hearted talk. It keeps a smaller piece of the world instead of making a clean break. It looks safe because it is easy to reach.
- Remembered. God spares Zoar, but He does it because He remembered Abraham. Lot then flees to the hills he first refused.
behold now, thy servant has found favour in thine eyes, and thou hast magnified thy goodness, which thou hast shewn to me in preserving my soul alive; but I cannot escape to the mountain, lest calamity lay hold on me, that I die.
Commentary for this verse has not been generated yet.
Behold now, this city is near to flee to, and it is small I pray thee, let me escape thither -- is it not small? -- and my soul shall live.
Angels have dragged Lot out of Sodom and told him to escape to the mountain, but instead of obeying he bargains for a nearer, smaller town. His plea raises a hard question: is being rescued from judgment the same as trusting the One who rescues you?
Lot begins by admitting God's mercy. He ends by asking for something other than what God told him to do. One writer traces that inconsistency through the whole prayer:
How many prayers unbelief dictates! And how plainly it marks this prayer all the way through! He admits a mercy he still does not dare to trust. He asks God for Zoar as a little city, so that He might spare it as such. And he asks for his own good, not for the human lives at stake. How low unbelief is! How wonderful the goodness that could spare Zoar in answer to such pleading!
The failure was not in the rescue, but in what came next.
God's mercy delivered him, and he is told to "escape to the mountain." He admits the mercy that saved him. But he has little faith in the protecting care of the One who sends him to the mountain. Fear and unbelief move him to plead that God will spare the little city of Zoar as a place of refuge.
Lot's whole case rests on size: the town is small, so sparing it costs little. Writers on this verse weigh that logic against how God saw Zoar:
Lot's plea was that Zoar was only a little city... his plea suggests that God might spare Zoar because it was small, since its evil would not be as great as Sodom's... Zoar might look different in Lot's eyes; it was little different in the Lord's eyes. Its sins, like Sodom's, reached to heaven, and called for the judgment of a righteous and holy God.
The same reasoning is easy to hear in modern form — a small allowance, a modest exception:
Lot hurries on. Listen to his miserable, rambling pleading that he might live in Zoar, because it was a little city. Oh, for a little pleasure, a little recreation, let me read just a few choice novels of a religious kind! This is how those plead who have fled from Sodom and long for Zoar.
God grants the request. One writer sets that answer beside God's earlier offer to spare Sodom:
God also granted his request to shelter in the fifth and smallest city of the plain, instead of fleeing to the mountain... God would have spared Sodom if only ten righteous persons had been in it. He spared Zoar because only one righteous man entered it. Such is the abounding mercy of our God, and His slowness to judge.
Lot got exactly what he asked for. The half-way refuge kept him alive, but it did not give him rest:
At Zoar Lot had safety, but he did not have quiet, because he had not fully obeyed the Lord. The soul that turns to God half-heartedly is safe, but not very happy. Many a man who believes in Jesus is not at peace, and I will tell you why. He does not fully follow the Lord... You have just enough of Christ to make you miserable... He is safe, but not at rest in Zoar, so soon he goes on to the mountain top, the real place of safety.
Read as a pattern, Zoar is the middle ground — clear of the city under judgment, short of the place God named:
Neutrality is the Zoar, the little city, to which many a righteous Lot has fled for refuge since the days of Genesis 19. It is not Sodom, it is far removed from that wicked city, but it is not the "mountain," God's place of safety. You can reach it without much difficulty. It lies in the plain, and no hard climb stands in the way... It is still a step in the right direction, but being a resting-place short of the goal, it becomes a snare.
In the chapter before, Abraham prays for other people. Here Lot prays about his own fear:
Are we interceding for others in love, as Abraham did in Genesis 18, or pleading away what we dread, as Lot did in Genesis 19?... So it always is. Saints who live like everyone else in the world share the world's fears. Their prayers show the mark of the world's condition.
- Rescued. Mercy pulls Lot out of Sodom, and he admits that mercy in this very verse.
- Distrustful. He takes the rescue but not the direction. Unbelief in God's ongoing care shapes his prayer.
- Small. "Is it not a little one?" measures sin by size. But Zoar's sins looked no different to God than Sodom's.
- Granted. God spares Zoar for one man, showing mercy wider than the faith that asked for it.
- Restless. He gains safety and loses peace, and later leaves Zoar for the mountain after all — the half-way place is a snare, not a home.
And he said to him, Behold, I have accepted thee concerning this thing also, that I will not overthrow the city of which thou hast spoken.
The angels have just hurried Lot out of Sodom and told him to flee to the mountains, but he asks instead for a small town on the plain. Why does God grant a prayer so clearly shaped by fear, and what does it show about the man who prays it?
Lot does not doubt that mercy has saved him; he doubts that mercy will keep him. Commentators read his plea as fear talking, and the granting of it as pure goodness on God's side:
How many prayers does unbelief dictate! And how clearly it marks this prayer from start to finish! He admits a mercy he still does not dare to trust. He asks God for Zoar because it is a little city, so that He would spare it as such. And he asks it for his own good, not for the human lives at stake. How low unbelief is! How wonderful the goodness that, at such a plea, could spare Zoar!
The wonder of the answer does not soften the failure behind the request. God had just rescued him by an act of grace, and still he did not obey:
Lot's attempt to save Zoar seems a terrible proof of how low he had sunk morally. Grace is indeed shown wonderfully — but that such an amazing intervention of grace should not have led him to joyful obedience to the Angel's word!
Abraham had pleaded for Sodom and stopped at ten righteous men. The contrast between the two prayers shows how ready God is to accept any plea made on the ground of grace alone:
The friend of God does not get this, because he dares not ask for it. He has a conscience of righteousness. Yet the Lord grants that very thing to the fearful cry of troubled, unstable Lot, with instant and unhesitating grace. Dread wrung that cry out of him, and it came out in petty, distrustful arguments. It shows what the Lord's heart, and will, and mind were. He gladly welcomed any mediator who would plead for mercy on the ground of grace alone... And if He spares so freely for such a mediator, what will He not do for Him who pleads for His own? By His death and resurrection He has justified them and reconciled them.
The count runs the other way here. Sodom needed ten righteous men; Zoar needed one:
God granted his request to shelter in the fifth and smallest city of the plain instead of fleeing to the mountain. God would have spared Sodom if only ten righteous people had been in it. He spared Zoar because only one righteous man entered it. Such is the abounding mercy of our God, and His slowness to judge.
God ties a reason to the permission: He holds the destruction back until Lot arrives. Writers see that delay as a settled principle, not a one-off favour:
The angel's word in verse 22 is worth noting: he cannot do anything until Lot reaches Zoar. Why "cannot"? Not because He lacked the power to judge, but because it is a fixed principle of God's ways that punishing, eternal wrath is never to touch His people. The vengeance of eternal fire could not possibly touch Lot, since he was a righteous man, though a misguided one.
The same principle reaches wider. The presence of the righteous holds judgment back from a whole place:
God had to provide for Lot before the fiery storm could come down. The Lord said He could do nothing till Lot had gone out of the city, and He spared the little city of Zoar for Lot's sake, because Lot asked Him to. For the sake of the righteous, God spares the wicked. "You are the salt of the earth."
Lot's argument is about size. One writer answers that smallness is his measurement, not God's:
Zoar might look different in Lot's eyes; it was little different in Jehovah's eyes. Its sins, like Sodom's, reached to heaven and called for the judgment of a righteous and holy God. The principles of the world are seen in both Sodom and Zoar. The Christian is called to walk apart from these principles... not to be trapped either in the small cities or the large cities of men.
- Fear asks. Lot's request grew out of unbelief — he admitted the mercy that saved him but would not trust it to keep him safe on the mountain.
- Grace grants. The Lord gave at once what Abraham's careful conscience had not dared to ask.
- One saves many. Ten righteous would have saved Sodom; one righteous man entering Zoar saved Zoar.
- Judgment waits. The angel could do nothing until Lot was safe. That is not weakness but principle: wrath does not fall while God's people are still in its path.
- A greater plea. God spared a whole city for one frightened man's plea. He will do far more for those Christ pleads for, whom He has justified and reconciled by His death and resurrection.
Haste, escape thither; for I cannot do anything until thou art come there. Therefore the name of the city is called Zoar.
Judgment on Sodom is settled and the fire is ready. Yet the angel tells Lot that nothing can happen until one man reaches a small town he picked himself. The verse holds two surprises. God's care for a believer holds the judgment back, and a whole town survives because that believer ran into it. (Older translations read the angel's words as "I cannot do anything till you come there.")
The word is striking on the lips of a messenger sent to destroy. One writer asks why, and answers from the way God always acts, not from any limit on His power.
The word of the angel in verse 22 is worth noting: "I cannot do anything till you come there." Why "cannot"? It is not because He lacked power to judge. It is a fixed principle of God's ways that penal and eternal wrath is never to touch His people. The judgment of these cities was not only a matter of governmental wrath. Penal wrath was involved too, as we see in Jude 7. The "vengeance of eternal fire" could not touch Lot. He was a righteous man, though a misguided one.
In the chapter before, Abraham bargained down to ten righteous people in Sodom. Ten were not found.
Abraham is silent (Gen. 18:33), "and the Lord went His way, when He had finished speaking with Abraham"; but He did more than Abraham asked. He withdrew Lot from Sodom and saved him. Nothing could be done till Lot was safe; Gen. 19:16, 22. God's eye was upon him. What blessedness to be able to reckon on His love for the righteous!
Zoar's survival mirrors Sodom's fall. The numbers run the opposite way from Abraham's plea.
He asked to shelter in the fifth and smallest city of the plain instead of fleeing to the mountain, and God granted it. Sodom would have been spared if only ten righteous persons had been in it. Zoar was spared because only one righteous man entered it. Such is the abounding mercy of our God, and His slowness to judge.
The angels had told Lot to run to the hills. He argued for a nearby town instead. One writer is hard on the heart behind that plea, and amazed that God answered it. The verse's closing line ties the town's name to that request.
How many prayers unbelief dictates! And how plainly it marks this prayer all the way through! He admits a mercy he still dares not trust. He asks God for Zoar because it is a little city, and asks Him to spare it as such. He asks for his own good, not for the human lives at stake. How low unbelief is! How wonderful the goodness that, at such a request, could spare Zoar!
"Escape there quickly" sits right beside the guarantee. Being sure of rescue was never a reason to slow down. One writer turns this against every excuse for delay in leaving what God has condemned.
We may also remember that Lot believed the angel and yet is told to escape "quickly" (Gen. 19:22), that Ananias urged Paul the believer not to "delay," but to be baptised (Acts 22:16), and that Paul himself, writing to the Hebrews (Heb. 6:18), speaks of those who "have fled for refuge to lay hold of the hope set before us."
The delay lasted exactly as long as Lot's journey — not one moment more.
The One to whom vengeance belongs has settled the whole plan of safety. But a solemn scene of judgment goes with all this. The sun had risen on the earth as Lot entered Zoar. And that sunny hour was the very time for the rain of brimstone and fire to fall. Nothing could be done till Lot entered the city, but then nothing remained to be done before the fire came down.
One writer finds the same order in an earlier judgment, and in the one still to come.
God could do nothing till Noah was safe in the ark, after He Himself had shut him in. So also in the case of the five cities of the plain. Lot had to be provided for before the fiery storm could come down, and the little city of Zoar was spared for his sake and at his request. For the sake of the righteous the wicked are spared. "You are the salt of the earth." And the world is preserved now because the children of God are in it, for "He is not willing that any should perish"; and all these, the true Church, must and will be taken out of it before judgment comes down on it.
- Cannot — the angel's "I cannot" is not weakness. It is a fixed rule of God's ways: penal wrath never falls on His righteous ones.
- Care — God did more than Abraham asked; His eye was on Lot, and the whole judgment waited on one man's safety.
- Cover — Zoar lived because one righteous man walked into it, while Sodom died for lack of ten.
- Concession — Lot's plea came from unbelief and self-interest. God's goodness granted it anyway.
- Clock — safety first, then fire. The sun rose, Lot entered, and judgment fell at once. God keeps that order still.
The sun rose upon the earth when Lot came to Zoar.
The sun rose over the plain that morning like any other morning. By the time it was up, Lot had reached the small town he had begged for. Two things hang on that one line. Why did the fire wait until one man was inside a gate? And why did the sky over Sodom look so calm on the day it burned?
The verse marks a moment in a plan. One writer shows how God fitted the rescue and the fire together:
The One to whom vengeance belongs has settled the whole plan of safety. The sun had risen on the earth, and after this Lot came to Zoar. And yet that sunny hour was the very time for the rain of sulfur and fire to fall. Nothing could happen until Lot entered the city; once he was in, nothing was left to do before the fire came down.
The angel had said he could do nothing until Lot arrived. One writer explains what lay behind that limit:
Why "cannot"? Not because power was lacking to act in judgment, but because it is a fixed principle of God's ways that penal and eternal wrath is never to touch His people. The judgment of these cities was not only a matter of governmental wrath; penal wrath was there too, as we see in Jude 7. The "vengeance of eternal fire" could not touch Lot, since he was a righteous man, though a misguided one.
Zoar stood among the cities of the plain and should have burned with them. It survived because of who walked through its gate that morning.
Sodom would have been spared if only ten righteous persons had been in it. Zoar was spared because only one righteous man entered it. Such is the abounding mercy of our God, and His slowness to judge.
Nothing in the weather that day hinted at what was coming. The city was busy, prosperous, and confident.
They held their market; their trading hall was open, and businessmen met there. In came the farmers with their produce from the country. The housewives went out to buy the food for the day, and everybody was busy. The sons-in-law would no doubt be there — godless men they were. They would be telling their friends how the old father-in-law had come in the dead of night and woken them with a foolish story: their city was about to be destroyed. The city had never been more prosperous. Look at the sun. It never shone more brightly. Yes, quite true, "the sun had risen on the earth when Lot came to Zoar," and on the surface nothing had changed in nature or in the city. God is not going to give the world one single bit of warning when He judges it, any more than He gave Sodom. Its only warning was the angels leading Lot out of it, and that warning they clearly despised.
The Lord Himself pointed back to Sodom's last morning when He spoke of His own return.
How solemn are these words, "The sun had risen." It speaks of a cloudless day with no sign of the coming judgment. As the Lord tells us of the men of Sodom, "they were eating and drinking, buying and selling, planting and building." All went on as usual. But "on the day when Lot went out from Sodom, fire and sulfur rained from heaven and destroyed them all." The Lord adds the solemn words, "so will it be on the day when the Son of Man is revealed" (Luke 17:28-30).
God told him to escape to the mountain. He asked for a nearer, smaller place instead, and the sunrise found him there.
He admits the mercy that has saved him, but he has little faith in the preserving care of the One who directs him to the mountain. Moved by fear and unbelief, he pleads that the little city of Zoar may be spared as a place of refuge. His prayer is granted; and as the sun rises Lot enters Zoar.
One writer compares Lot with Abraham, and finds a picture of Israel in Lot's position.
Israel will be much more like Lot, for they will be inside the very place where the judgment falls. Lot went into his shelter — that is, Zoar — when the judgment came. Abraham was completely outside the trial, pleading before the LORD in earnest prayer. Yet before the day came, he knew about it far better than Lot.
reason: repeated keyword frame; "above it" not what the quote says; cuts qualifier
And Jehovah rained on Sodom and Gomorrah brimstone and fire from Jehovah out of heaven,
Fire falls on Sodom the morning after the angels pull Lot out. The wording is strange — the LORD rains it from the LORD — and commentators ask two things: what that doubled name shows about God, and what this ruined plain still warns us about.
The verse names the LORD twice — once acting on earth, once sending from heaven. Where the ESV prints "the LORD," older translations use the name "Jehovah":
Notice verse 24. "Then the LORD rained on Sodom and Gomorrah sulfur and fire from the LORD out of heaven." Here was a Jehovah on earth and He called to Jehovah in heaven.
This is not two Gods. Scripture holds to one God only, yet with distinct Persons in the Godhead — and this verse hints at what the New Testament later states openly:
Though there is but one God (Deuteronomy 6:4), and no other (Isaiah 43:10), there are distinct Persons in the Godhead. The Old Testament already knew this truth. There we read (Genesis 19:24), "Then the LORD [that is, Jehovah] rained on Sodom and Gomorrah sulfur and fire from the LORD [that is, Jehovah] out of heaven." Yet only the New Testament taught it as doctrine, after Christ came in flesh. Other scriptures pointed to it as well, as New Testament teaching makes plain — Psalm 45, 102 and 110, and Daniel 7:13, which the Lord quoted, and which His hearers took to refer to a Divine Person.
after-reason: n/a
The ESV calls it sulfur; older translations say brimstone. Scripture keeps coming back to it:
Bitumen, pitch, or sulphur, which is still found in its raw state in Palestine. God rained it down from heaven in judgment. Genesis 19:24; Psalm 11:6; Ezekiel 38:22; Luke 17:29. It is a symbol of what will add to the torment and anguish of the wicked.
The text says what fell and who sent it. It never says how:
Judgment from God falls suddenly, as brimstone and fire, like what a volcanic eruption might produce. But we are not told how this terrible disaster came. Some would die at once. No doubt others had time to realise that God was punishing them for their gross wickedness. But it was too late to escape. The judgment and desolation was total.
The angel had said he could do nothing until Lot reached Zoar. The delay shows a principle, not a limit on God's power:
The word of the angel in verse 22 is worth noting: "I can do nothing till you arrive there." Why "cannot"? Not because power was lacking to act in judgment, but because it is a fixed principle of God's ways that eternal, punishing wrath must never touch His people. The judgment on these cities was not only God acting as ruler of the world; real punishment was involved, as Jude 7 shows. That vengeance of eternal fire could not possibly touch Lot, since he was a righteous man, though a misguided one.
The timing runs both ways: the fire waits for Lot, then waits no longer:
The sun had risen on the earth as, after this, Lot entered Zoar. And yet that sunny hour was the very time for the rain of brimstone and fire to fall. Nothing could happen till Lot entered the city, but once he was inside, nothing held the fire back.
One writer measures the destruction by what is missing today:
Almost in a moment, God's judgment wiped several once prosperous cities out of existence. The ruin was so complete that today we cannot be sure where they stood. Well may the apostle exclaim, "It is a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the living God" (Hebrews 10:31).
Why does this story stand so early in the Bible? One writer answers:
God has not left Himself without witness, on a small scale, of what He plans as punishment for the ungodly who choose to ignore His warning... The book of Genesis itself records how God destroyed the cities of the plain, not long after the flood. Their impurity was so great that it went against fallen nature itself.
Both men come through the fire, but not in the same place. One writer draws the contrast:
Abraham is again in that high place, watching the desolation from far off. He was, in the spirit of the place where he stood, in the company of the One who was carrying out the judgment. But Lot is only rescued. Lot is a delivered man; Abraham is a separated one.
- Source — The LORD rains it from the LORD. One God, yet distinct Persons — hinted here, taught openly only in the New Testament.
- Substance — Brimstone is sulphur. Scripture keeps it as the symbol of the torment of the wicked.
- Sequence — The fire could not fall until Lot was clear. Eternal wrath never touches God's people.
- Scale — God erased the cities so completely that no one is sure today where they stood.
- Sample — Sodom is a small-scale witness of the judgment God plans for the ungodly. Abraham watched it from the height; Lot escaped it just in time.
and overthrew those cities, and all the plain, and all the inhabitants of the cities, and what grew upon the ground.
Commentary for this verse has not been generated yet.
And his wife looked back from behind him, and she became a pillar of salt.
Lot's wife walks out of a doomed city with her family, and then stops being a person and starts being a landmark. Why did judgment fall on someone who had already left the city? And what was wrong with one backward look?
The verse notes where she stood as well as what she did. One commentator reads the two together.
Lot had entered Zoar, but not his wife. It seems she lagged behind. Her heart was plainly still in Sodom. Lot seems to have married her in Sodom, since we do not read of her before he went there. Such an unequal yoke in marriage might explain why Lot remained there as long as he did.
Her body had moved; her affections had not. Another writer puts the gap between the two in a single line:
His wife—a fitting picture of someone who merely professes faith—is looking, as Lot taught her years before, towards Sodom. Her body is out of the city, but her heart is still in it, until God stops its beating and fixes her forever as the figure of a mere professor.
The command had been plain: escape, do not look behind you. One writer traces her ruin back to what she believed about that warning.
She was almost saved, but was not. She was within sight of the place of safety, but failed to reach it. She was on the verge of getting divinely appointed security, but missed it. Two things worked in her heart to her ruin: unbelief and disobedience. She did not in her heart believe that God would judge Sodom, and despite His plain command against it, she would look back. In that moment she was cut off. She stands as a lasting beacon of the terrible folly of disobeying the Lord.
Her disobedience grew out of doubting the message.
She died outside the city, and not by the fire that fell on it. One writer pictures a traveller coming on the scene later.
A stranger travelling through that scene afterwards, looking over the blackened country, would be struck with surprise by the bright, shining pillar that met his view, untouched by smoke. Small wonder if he said, "What does this mean?" Lot's wife did not fall in the judgment of Sodom. It was a distinct judgment by the hand of God on unbelief, which He always judges sooner or later. Disobedience, too, He always judges.
Salt in Scripture preserves and gives flavour. Here it does something different, and one commentator marks the difference sharply.
In Genesis 19:26 salt is clearly not a mark of consecration but a stroke of judgment. For Lot's wife, disobeying at such a time, became a lasting monument of divine judgment. The LORD said the same about Israel. If they rebelled and fell under the curse, He declared that their whole land would be brimstone and salt, like the overthrow of Sodom (Deuteronomy 29:23). The New Testament adds the terrible picture of salt that loses its taste. Such salt is no use for the land or the manure heap, so it gets thrown out. Easy-going unbelief destroys all savour in those who bear the Lord's name without self-judgment.
Another writer sets that salt beside the Lord's words to His followers about being the salt of the earth:
The Lord Jesus told His disciples, "You are the salt of the earth." Lot and his wife should have been "salt" like that in Sodom. She should have been salt there in a moral sense. Outside Sodom she becomes salt in a physical sense, as a memorial of "the goodness and the severity of God."
The lesson does not stop with her. One writer presses it on how we feel about leaving the world behind.
She perished not in Sodom, but between Sodom and Zoar. To her the departure from Sodom was exile, not deliverance. Many in the camp in the wilderness treated separation from Egypt with the same mind. And this raises a solemn, practical question for us. What do our souls make of separation from the world? In our hearts, do we count it exile or redemption? Are we singing over that thought, like Israel at the Red Sea; or, like Israel afterwards, are we remembering the fish of Egypt?
The Lord Jesus turned this whole scene into three words of warning. One commentator explains why she, of all people, became the example.
To this the Lord adds a strange but no less solemn word, short as it is: "Remember Lot's wife!" It seems angelic power rescued the wife of Lot. The angels certainly brought her out of the doomed city. But that only made her the more striking monument of God's all-searching judgment. There she stands alone. The others perished; but she remained a pillar of salt — the memorial of God's hatred of a false heart, and morally speaking that memorial never perishes. Despite outward deliverance, that heart still gave its affections to a scene marked out for destruction.
- Heart — She had left Sodom, but Sodom had not left her; her affections stayed where her feet no longer stood.
- Unbelief — She doubted the warning first. The disobedient look came second.
- Distinct — No fire from Sodom touched her. Her judgment was a separate stroke of God's hand on unbelief and disobedience.
- Salt — She would not be salt inside the city, so God made her salt outside it: a lasting monument of judgment.
- Remember — Christ made her a one-line sermon. So the test lands on us: is leaving the world exile, or rescue worth singing about?
And Abraham rose early in the morning [and went] to the place where he had stood before Jehovah;
While Sodom burns, Abraham goes back to the spot where he had pleaded with God the day before. The verse asks where a believer should stand when judgment falls on the world, and what he sees from there.
Down in the city, no one could have told Abraham what was coming. Only the ground where he had stood with God gave a true reading of Sodom.
Suppose Abraham had gone to Sodom for information. Suppose he had asked its leading men what they thought of the city's present state and its future. How would they have answered? No doubt they would have pointed to their farming and building projects, and to the vast resources of the country. They would have set before his eyes one great mixed scene of buying and selling, building and planting, eating and drinking, marrying and giving in marriage. They would never dream of judgment. If anyone had mentioned it, they would have laughed in unbelief. So it is clear that Sodom was not the place to learn about Sodom's end. No; "the place where Abraham stood before the Lord" was the only proper point from which to take in the whole view. There he could stand above all the fogs and mists that had gathered on Sodom's horizon. There, in the clearness and calmness of God's presence, he could understand it all.
Abraham had spent the day before pleading with God for the city. This verse shows what that praying did in Abraham himself.
Abraham kept on interceding, though he stopped short of the fullness of God's mercy. Abraham grows bold as he goes on, and his confidence increases. As a result he knows God much better than before. The peace of God kept his heart. You can see the fruit of it all here. Abraham gets up early in the morning and goes to the place where he had stood before the Lord. He looks down on the plain, now smoking like a furnace. From far above he sees the effects of the utter destruction. This is our position if we are heavenly, and this is how we see the judgment of the wicked.
One writer reads the mountain-top as a picture of where believers now stand.
Abraham's place is communion with the Lord about the judgment. God saves Lot out of that judgment only through Abraham's intervention. But Abraham was where he stood before the Lord. It was the top of the mountain, and from there he saw the smoke of the plain going up. In figure this place is Heaven, for God says to Abraham there, "I will go down to see." That is the place of intercession, the place of the Church in spirit.
From that height Abraham looked down on the land Lot had once chosen for himself.
Where were those well-watered green pastures that looked like the garden of the Lord, and had attracted Lot's worldly eyes? An immense black, charred plain was all that met Abraham's eyes, and rising from it, the smoke of Sodom and Gomorrah. The proud cities had become ashes. The tempting growth, blossoms and fruit of those treacherous pastures and gardens had become smoke. The calm waters that made them so fresh and fertile had merged into the still waters of the Dead Sea. It now covers the spot where once the lust of the eye, the lust of the flesh and the pride of life held sway.
Lot's escape hangs on a name — and it is not Lot's own. That turns the comparison between the two men upside down.
In contrast to Lot, saved through fire, and his wife who looked back, we have a glimpse of the separated man who looked on to the city that has foundations. Abraham was in "the place where he had stood before the LORD." He sees the destruction of the cities of the plain from far off. Then we learn something highly instructive. If Lot is saved from the overthrow of the cities, it is because "God remembered Abraham." Lot, as he sat in the gate of Sodom, might have said, "What good is Abraham to the world, living apart in his tent?" Yet God had said of Abraham, in the separate path, "you will be a blessing." And so it turned out.
What keeps a believer on that height? One writer gives the practical answer.
Should we not then walk in holy separation from the world? Can we, if we love the Lord, take the hand once pierced on the cross for our many sins? Can we at the same time grasp the hand of the world, stained as it is with the blood of His murder? The cure, the only cure, for worldliness is the positive engagement of our hearts with Christ. Simply keeping away from the world is no better than the life of a monk, if our hearts are not more than repaid by the enjoyment of the company of Christ.
- Return. Abraham went back to the exact place where he had prayed. Only from there could he understand Sodom's end.
- Fruit. The morning view was the harvest of his praying. He had grown bolder, come to know God better, and kept the peace of God in his heart.
- Height. One writer reads the mountain-top as a picture of heaven — the place of communion and intercession, above the smoke.
- Sight. What he saw was Lot's chosen garden turned to ash — the lust of the eye and the pride of life ending in a dead sea.
- Result. God rescued Lot because He "remembered Abraham." The man who kept his distance from Sodom proved to be Sodom's only real friend.
and he looked toward Sodom and Gomorrah, and toward all the land of the plain, and beheld, and lo, a smoke went up from the land as the smoke of a furnace.
The morning after fire fell, Abraham walks back to the spot where he had pleaded with God the day before. From that height he looks down on the burning plain — and where he stands matters as much as what he sees.
Abraham does not return to a random lookout. He goes back to the place of his prayer. Commentators read what he sees as the fruit of that pleading.
Abraham kept on pleading, though he stopped short of the fullness of God's mercy. We do not know all that He is going to do, as God does. Still, we may intercede with faith. Abraham grows bold as he goes on; his confidence increases. As a result he knows God much better than before. The peace of God kept his heart. The fruit of it all appears in Genesis 19:27-28. Abraham gets up early in the morning and goes to the place where he stood before the Lord. He looks down on the plain, now smoking like a furnace. From far above he sees the effects of the utter destruction. Such is our position if we are heavenly. That is how we see the judgment of the wicked.
The plain below had once been the most attractive land in sight.
Where were those well-watered green pastures that looked like the garden of the Lord, and had attracted the worldly eyes of Lot? An immense black, desolate, charred plain was all that met Abraham's eyes. Rising from it was the smoke of Sodom and Gomorrah, like the smoke of Babylon the great that will rise at a future and not very distant time. The proud cities were now ashes. The alluring green shoots, blossoms and fruits of those treacherous pastures and gardens had become smoke.
A furnace was a familiar sight in daily work, and the word carries more weight elsewhere in Scripture:
People used furnaces for many purposes: smelting raw metal, refining metal in crucibles, making lime and bricks, and baking as an oven. Genesis 19:28; Exodus 9:8, 10; Proverbs 17:3. … In the New Testament the furnace of fire refers to the place of eternal punishment. Matthew 13:42, 50.
Abraham's safety here was of a higher order than a rescue.
This is still elevation of the highest order. This is heaven's relationship to judgment, God's own relationship to it. Abraham was not rescued out of it like Lot. He was not taken calmly through it like Noah. He was not carried away before it came like Enoch. Beyond them all, he is given heaven's own place in relation to it. He looks down on it carried out on others, having nothing whatever to do with it.
That place also shaped how Abraham felt on the morning after.
As regards his own position, he is looking down on the place of judgment. In the morning, when the cities are in flames, he finds himself in quietness and peace on the spot where he "stood before the Lord" (v. 27). He is not at all in the place where the judgment had come. The scene before him sobers him, yet he is calm and happy with the Lord.
Earlier, Abraham had refused any share in Sodom's wealth. That old refusal is what leaves him with nothing burning in the plain below.
He had always lived as a stranger in the land. In the days of Chedorlaomer that had let him live outside Sodom and all its circumstances. It still kept him free, and it was the means of his escape from Sodom's unspeakable misery. The king of Sodom once asked Abraham to take a share in the things of Sodom. Had he agreed, he would have shared to some degree in its overthrow, as his brother Lot did. He himself would have been saved, but his work would have been burnt up.
The smoke Abraham saw pointed past the four cities that made it.
The miracle was fire from the Lord out of heaven. It started the mighty blaze and eruptions that blasted these four cities out of existence. Their sites remain to this day as "an example of what is going to happen to the ungodly" (2 Peter 2:6). … This judgment was also a sample of what is yet to come on a much greater scale, in "the day of judgment and destruction of the ungodly" (2 Peter 3:7).
- The place. Abraham goes back to the exact spot where he had prayed. The place of his praying becomes the place of his seeing.
- The peace. Standing there he is calm and happy with the Lord, sobered by the scene but untouched by it.
- The position. He is not pulled out of the judgment like Lot. He is not carried through it like Noah. He is given heaven's own place above it.
- The price of choosing. Lot's green plain is now a charred waste. Abraham had refused Sodom's goods, so he has nothing burning below.
- The preview. The smoke going up like a furnace stands on record as an example — a small sample of the day of judgment still to come.
And it came to pass when God destroyed the cities of the plain, that God remembered Abraham, and sent Lot out of the midst of the overthrow, when he overthrew the cities in which Lot dwelt.
God's comment on Sodom's destruction looks past the burning cities and past the man being pulled out of them. It rests on Abraham, who had prayed for those cities — so why is Lot not the reason for his own rescue?
The verse names the man God had in mind, and it is not Lot. One writer asks what that makes Abraham, who is nowhere in the action.
Was not Abraham even here, where it could be least expected, not only blessed but a blessing? Nothing could be done to Sodom and Gomorrah until Lot came to Zoar; but was it not for Abraham's sake? It was even then and there, because "God remembered" not Lot but "Abraham."
The verse tells us God remembered Abraham. It never says God remembered Lot, and one writer reads that silence as shame.
In the actual story God speaks of him as one He is ashamed of. Lot has sheltered under Abraham's cover, and God must use the cover toward him. He is the God of Abraham; how could He call Himself the God of Lot? How solemn this treatment of one of His own!
Lot is still one of God's own, and he is still rescued. But he comes out under a name that is not his.
Abraham had prayed for the cities, not by name for his nephew. Ten righteous people were never found there. Yet his prayer was not wasted.
Abraham had not definitely asked for this. Still, he kept pressing his prayer until he had God's promise to spare the cities if only ten righteous people were found in them. He no doubt had Lot and his family in mind. Ten righteous people were not found. All the same, God answered Abraham's prayer in the spirit of it, by rescuing the one man who could be called righteous.
Abraham had rescued Lot once before, in battle. The second rescue took a different weapon.
Abraham's sword had delivered Lot when Sodom was conquered. His prayer delivered him at its final overthrow, "for the prayer of a righteous person has great power as it is working."
A man living apart in a tent looks useless to a city. This verse is the answer to that charge, and it fulfils the promise God had made to Abraham.
Lot, as he sat in the gate of Sodom, might have said, "What good is Abraham to the world, living apart in his tent?" Yet it is of Abraham, in the separate path, that God had said, "You will be a blessing." So it came to pass. If Lot is saved, it is because God remembered Abraham.
Lot comes out alive and comes out empty. Everything he had built in Sodom burned with the city.
May not Lot be an example of being saved so as by fire? He made unholy links with Sodom. The fire came. To save his life he had to flee from Sodom. The entanglements were burned, and fire was in reality his salvation from Sodom with its unspeakable filth and wickedness. Lot was saved in his person, but his works were burned.
Two men come through the same day alive, in two very different positions. One writer says the pattern repeats in every day of judgment.
At such a crisis — in this day of the judgment of Sodom, the overthrow of the cities of the plain, as in every other day like it — there are two things for our souls to ponder deeply. There is deliverance out of the judgment, and there is separation before it comes. There is Lot, and there is Abraham. Lot is delivered when the hour of the crisis comes; Abraham is separated before it comes.
- Cause. Lot walks out alive because God remembered Abraham. The reason for his rescue lies outside himself.
- Cover. God calls Himself the God of Abraham, not the God of Lot. Lot comes out under another man's cover, not on his own account.
- Prayer. Abraham never asked for this exact rescue. God answered the heart of his prayer and delivered the one righteous man.
- Reach. The man living apart in his tent did Sodom more good than the man living inside it. God's promise that he would be a blessing reached into the city.
- Result. Lot keeps his life and loses his works. Better to be separated before the judgment than pulled out of it.
And Lot went up from Zoar, and dwelt in the mountain, and his two daughters with him; for he feared to dwell in Zoar. And he dwelt in a cave, he and his two daughters.
God has just rescued Lot from Sodom. Now Lot leaves the town he begged to be spared and settles in a cave with his two daughters. The verse raises a hard question: why does a rescued man still live by fear?
Lot ends up in the hills — the very place he had already been told to flee to. His address has changed. His motive has not.
Though saved from the destruction of Sodom, poor Lot is still ruled by fear. He is afraid to live in the very city he chose, so he falls back on the mountain he had been told to flee to. But even so, he goes to the mountain driven by fear of men, not led by faith in God. There he becomes caught up in the shameful act of his daughters. He passes out of the story with no record of his end, leaving behind descendants who become the constant enemies of God's people.
Put beside Abraham, Lot's loss is plain.
Abraham usually walked by faith, but Lot had never learned that lesson. This time fear moved him. He found a cave and lived in it with his daughters. How poor he had become! Lot's story is a warning to every child of God. Friendship with the world may cost you nothing in material things, but it always leaves you poor in spiritual things.
Lot begged for Zoar and got it. Yet he could not settle there. One writer traces that unrest to half-hearted obedience.
At Zoar Lot had safety, but he had no rest, because he had not obeyed the Lord completely. The person who turns to God half-heartedly is safe, but he is not very happy. Many a man who believes in Jesus is not at peace. I will tell you why. He does not follow the Lord fully. Perhaps he does not have enough energy of soul. You have just enough of Christ to make you miserable. The real place of safety for you and me is to be in Christ, and then to be taken up with Christ, delighting in Christ as He now is, accepted in glory.
Notice the timing. He would not go up when God told him to; he goes up now that fear drives him. His fear and his trust land in the wrong places.
And there Lot too goes up out of Zoar. He was afraid to go when God told him to, though there was nothing to fear there. Then he became afraid to stay in Zoar any longer. And now he was not afraid to go — yet this was the place and the moment he would have dreaded most, had he known the trap he was walking into, a trap of wine and women. And, sad to say, of his own daughters.
Even now, the judgment he has just watched teaches him only half a lesson.
Judgment stands so close to the place mercy spared that Lot runs from it. He recognizes God's judgment of the world, but he never judges the spirit of the world himself.
The cave shows what Lot has left: his life, and no more. One writer sees in him a believer who stands safe on the foundation while his work burns.
Since he himself is on the foundation, the burning will not touch him, but he suffers the loss of his works. Lot is a most painful example of this in Genesis 19. He escaped the terrible judgment of Sodom, but the fire took everything he owned. How sad that a believer may have nothing of real spiritual value to show for all the years God has given him on earth!
Two men lived through the same day and came out with different things.
Everything Lot built in Sodom perished when the place burned. He was a righteous man tied to the world in a false and evil partnership, and he was snatched out like a stick pulled from the fire. The reward was Abraham's, but deliverance was Lot's.
Lot is out of the plain at last. But distance and communion are not the same thing.
If Lot had sought the face of God, he might have found the mountain a place of communion with Him. Instead it is the scene of his lasting shame. Being separated from the world does not always mean being in communion with God. The worst corruptions of the world can appear inside the quiet of a monastery or a convent, just as in a wicked city. Sodom had left its mark on Lot's daughters, and they brought into the cave what they had learned there.
(Where these writers say "mountain," the ESV reads "the hills.")
- Rescued. Lot leaves Sodom alive but with nothing. He is saved; his work burns.
- Restless. Zoar gave him safety but not quietness, because he had never fully obeyed the word that sent him higher.
- Ruled by fear. He reaches the right place at last, driven by fear of men rather than led by faith in God.
- Reduced. Friendship with the world may cost a believer no money at all. It still costs him spiritual wealth: a cave is all Lot has left.
- Removed, not renewed. Distance from Sodom was not communion with God. His daughters carried Sodom into the cave.
And the first-born said to the younger, Our father is old, and there is not a man in the land to come in to us after the manner of all the earth
Lot has lost Sodom, his wife and his wealth, and now lives in a cave with two daughters who see no future. This verse gives the older daughter's reasoning: their father is old, no husband is left for them, so the normal way of the world must come some other way.
The plan did not come out of nowhere. It reflects the city the girls had just left.
The scheming of Lot's daughters to have children by their father is a sad comment on what they had learned in Sodom (vv. 31-32). Lot, too, had sunk so low that he no longer cared about the honour of the Lord. He let himself get so drunk that he did not know what he was doing. And this did not happen once only, but a second time the next night (vv. 34-35).
Living in that air had done its slow work on the whole household long before the cave.
Lot and his family got right into the world, and the moral corruption that lust produced stained them. Breathing that morally polluted air for a long time deadened conscience, and produced evil and unheard-of ways (see Gen. 19:30-38).
The older daughter argues as if no other way exists. She leaves God out.
The influences of Sodom had left their mark on the daughters of Lot, for they brought to the cave what they had learned there. They had not learned that God could provide a generation for Lot, if it were His will, without resorting to such debasing means. Abraham and Sarah, Manoah and his wife, and Zacharias and Elizabeth, all proved how God could intervene to provide children for them, in His own way.
The angels pulled all three out of Sodom. What Sodom had put into the girls came out with them.
Lot's faith was very feeble. Though Zoar had been spared for his sake, his fear was so great that he left it for the mountain country he had once dreaded. There he found a cave, and having lost all he owned, he lived in it with his two daughters. The two daughters were saved in body but lost in morals. We are allowed to know that they had caught the immoral ways of Sodom. They brought dishonour on themselves and on their father. They also brought into the world both Moab and Ammon. Both gave their names to peoples who in later days became enemies of the people of God.
The daughters' end goes back to Lot's own path.
Had Lot walked separately, his daughters might have been wives of Abraham's seed, instead of mothers of Ammonites and Moabites.
Lot also chose that place against God's word. The angels had told him to escape to the hills — quoted below in an older wording as "Escape to the mountain."
How much better it would have been for Lot to listen to the word of God's messengers, "Escape to the mountain"... Had Lot sought the face of God, he might have found the mountain a place of communion. Instead it is the scene of his lasting shame. Separation from the world does not always mean communion with God. The world's gross corruptions can be found in the seclusion of a monastery or a convent, just as in a wicked city.
Two nations came out of that cave, and Israel felt them for centuries.
Lot was delivered, and yet only half delivered. The angels rescued him from the worst of company, even after Abraham had rescued him once before. He was brought out again, but as if maimed and wounded, only to be dishonoured further... Yet it was of real moral profit for Israel to remember where a lasting thorn in their side came from. The Moabite and the Ammonite had a shameful origin. These two nations were neighbours and relatives, known for constant envy and hatred against the people of God... "The one who sows to his own flesh," no matter who or where or when, "will from the flesh reap corruption."
The law later shut Moab out. Yet a Moabite woman stands in the family line of the Messiah.
Ruth was a loving woman, but to a Jew she came from an especially hateful source. She was a Moabite woman, and so the law forbade her to enter the assembly of the Lord to the tenth generation... This gave an even deeper testimony that grace would go out and bless the very worst of the Gentiles.
- Sodom sowed. The daughters' plan is what the city taught them. Lot's household breathed that air until conscience went numb.
- Sodom reasoned. "No man on earth" is unbelief doing sums. God had given children to Abraham and Sarah, to Manoah's wife and to Elizabeth, without any such means.
- Sodom followed them out. The angels saved the girls' bodies, but not their morals. Even the mountain became a cave of shame instead of a place of communion.
- Sodom began with a choice. Had Lot walked apart from the world, his daughters could have married into Abraham's line, instead of becoming the mothers of Israel's enemies.
- Sodom's harvest met grace. Sowing to the flesh reaped Moab and Ammon. Yet God brought a daughter of Moab, shut out by the law, into the line of the Messiah.
come, let us give our father wine to drink, and let us lie with him, that we may preserve seed alive of our father.
Lot has fled Zoar in fear and now lives in a cave with his two daughters. There the elder daughter proposes wine and incest to keep the family line alive.
God's messengers had told Lot to escape to the mountain. He asked for Zoar instead. Fear later drove him to the mountain anyway — by his own route, and too late.
How much better if Lot had listened to God's messengers: "Escape to the mountain." It would have saved him from the fear that overtook him in Zoar. He would have known the mountain as God's place of shelter, rather than his cave of shame. So often we think we know what is best for us, and we turn away from what God commands. In the end we only prove our own folly, and we lose what God in His mercy had prepared for us. Separation from the world does not always mean communion with God.
The daughters escaped the fire, but Sodom's thinking came with them. Their plan assumes God can do nothing unless they arrange it themselves.
Sodom's influence had left its mark on Lot's daughters. They brought to the cave what they had learned there. They had not learned that God could give Lot a family line, if it were His will, without such degrading means. Abraham and Sarah, Manoah and his wife, and Zacharias and Elizabeth all proved how God could step in and give them children in His own way.
Years in that city had changed them within, wherever they lived later.
Lot and his family went right into the world, and the moral corruption that lust produced stained them. Breathing that morally polluted air for years deadened conscience, and produced evil and unheard-of ways.
The daughters supplied the drink, but nobody forced Lot to swallow it — twice.
Lot had sunk so far into unconcern for the honour of the Lord that he let himself get drunk — too drunk to know what he was doing. Nor was this only once, but a second time on the following night.
This is not a sudden collapse. It is the last step of a road Lot started long before.
He had always shown a secret desire for the things of Egypt or those of Sodom. His heart never seems to have broken free from the world, so his course was always unsteady. From the time he parted from Abraham, he went from bad to worse — from one stage of evil to another. At last the scene closes with the shocking transaction in the cave.
Lot's own path closed off another life for his daughters.
If Lot had kept himself separate, his daughters might have married Abraham's descendants, instead of becoming the mothers of Ammonites and Moabites.
Two nations came out of that cave. Israel would meet them again and again as enemies.
Lot was delivered, and yet only half delivered... It was of moral profit for Israel to remember where a lasting thorn in their side came from. The Moabite and the Ammonite had a shameful origin — two nations, neighbours and relatives, known for constant envy and hatred toward the people of God. The one true God marks it all in His wisdom. Sin then, as now, produced a harvest — large and long-lasting. Yet sovereign grace in some cases keeps it from being a never-ending harvest of misery for those who indulged in it. "Whoever sows to his own flesh," no matter who or where or when, "will from the flesh reap corruption."
The story does not end with the harvest. Generations later, a woman of Moab appears in the family record of the Messiah.
Ruth was a loving woman, yet to a Jew she came from a hated source. She was a Moabitess, and so the law barred her from entering the congregation of the Lord until the tenth generation... This gave a still deeper testimony that grace would go out and bless the very worst of the Gentiles. Whether the Jews like it or not, God brought Rahab, the once immoral Gentile, and Ruth, the gentle daughter of Moab, into the nation. More than that, He brought them into the direct line from which the Messiah would come.
- Choice — the cave is the last stop on a road that began when Lot parted from Abraham. From that day his course was unsteady.
- Absorption — years of breathing Sodom's air deadened conscience, and his daughters brought into the cave what they had learned there.
- Unbelief — their scheme assumed God could not give Lot a family line without shameful means. He had given children to others in His own way.
- Harvest — sowing to the flesh reaped Moab and Ammon, a thorn in Israel's side for centuries.
- Grace — God brought Ruth of Moab into the direct line of the Messiah. Grace reaches the worst of origins.
And they gave their father wine to drink that night. And the first-born went in, and lay with her father, and he did not know of her lying down, nor of her rising.
The story of Lot ends in a cave, not in the fire of Sodom. It ends with wine, two daughters, and a father who slept through his own disgrace. This verse raises the hardest question of his life. How does a saved man sink this far?
The fall did not begin in the cave. One writer traces it back to a single look at good land.
The Lord spared Lot and his daughters — saved, but only as through fire. This was not to their honour. It came from His faithful care and tender mercy. His own unfaithfulness had put him there. It was his unchecked desire for the good things of the world. "And Lot lifted up his eyes and saw that the Jordan Valley was well watered everywhere" (Gen. 13:10). Then he pitched his tent toward Sodom. Next he dwelt in Sodom (Gen. 14). On the eve of its downfall, Lot was sitting in the gate of Sodom, in the place of honour there (Gen. 19:1) — a sad example of the earthly minded believer in the path of decline! Such men dishonour the Lord, and pierce themselves through with many sorrows.
Lot lost everything and ended in a cave. His daughters came out of Sodom alive, but not untouched.
He found a cave in the mountains, and in it, having lost everything he owned, he lived with his two daughters. The two daughters were saved in body, but they were lost morally. We are allowed to know that they had caught the immoral ways of Sodom. They brought dishonour on themselves and on their father, and brought Moab and Ammon into the world.
The verse ends by saying that Lot knew nothing of it. That dullness took years to grow, and it is the opposite of what the gospel does in those who receive it.
Lot was a converted man in the wrong place. He should have been completely separate from it. Those who receive the gospel have "escaped from the corruption that is in the world because of sinful desire" (2 Peter 1:4). That is what Lot's history does not illustrate. Lot and his family got thoroughly into the world, and were tainted with the moral corruption that sinful desire produced. Breathing a morally polluted atmosphere for years deadened conscience, and produced evil and unheard-of ways (see Gen. 19:30-38).
What the daughters did shows what Sodom taught them. What Lot did shows how far he had sunk.
The scheming of Lot's daughters to have children by their father is a sad comment on what they had learned in Sodom. Lot had sunk so far into unconcern for the Lord's honour that he let himself get drunk and not realise what he was doing. And this was not only once. It happened again the following night.
Two nations came out of that cave, and both spent their history fighting Israel.
It did Israel moral good to remember where a lasting thorn in their side came from. The Moabite and the Ammonite had a shameful origin. These two nations were neighbours and relatives of Israel, known for constant envy and hostility against the people of God. Sin then, as now, produced a harvest that was large and long-lasting. Even so, sovereign grace in some cases keeps that harvest from being a never-ending misery to those who indulged in the sin. "The one who sows to his own flesh," no matter who or where or when, "will from the flesh reap corruption."
Lot's life shows what a rescued life looks like when a man builds nothing for God.
Lot was rescued — saved, but only as through fire. That fits with the fact that we find no altar and no sacrifice from his hand. He was pulled out of the fire, and that was all.
The law shut Moab out. Yet Ruth the Moabite stood in Boaz's field, and one writer sees the whole gospel in that.
The law of Moses said, "No Ammonite or Moabite may enter the assembly of the LORD. Even to the tenth generation, none of them may enter the assembly of the LORD forever" (Deut. 23:3). What then could Ruth have expected from Boaz but to be rebuked and driven from his field? And that same stern law, which cursed and shut out the Moabites from blessing, curses and shuts up heaven against us all. But thank God, if the law "given through Moses" condemns the sinner, "grace and truth" which "came through Jesus Christ" saves him when he trusts that gracious Saviour.
- Choice. Lot's cave began with his eyes on well-watered land. The tent became a house. The house became a seat in Sodom's gate.
- Drift. His daughters left Sodom alive, but they carried Sodom with them. Saved in body, lost morally.
- Dullness. Years in a polluted atmosphere deadened his conscience. He could be drunk two nights running and never know it.
- Harvest. Moab and Ammon came out of that cave. One night's sin grew into a long harvest of hostility against God's people. Sowing to the flesh reaps corruption.
- Grace. Lot came out of the fire with no altar to show for his life. Yet Ruth came from cursed Moab. Grace reaches where the law only shuts the door.
And it came to pass on the next day that the first-born said to the younger, Lo, I lay last night with my father let us give him wine to drink to-night also, and go thou in, lie with him, that we may preserve seed alive of our father.
On the morning after the first night in the cave, the older daughter tells the younger to do the same again that evening. How did a family that angels rescued from judgment sink this far, and what did the world inherit from that cave?
The plan calls for wine a second night. One writer traces both the daughters' scheme and their father's condition back to the city they had just left.
The scheming of Lot's daughters to have children by their father is a sad comment on what they had learned in Sodom. Lot, too, had sunk so far into unconcern about the honour of the Lord that he let himself get drunk. He did not realise what he was doing. Nor was this only once, but a second time on the following night. We may even wonder that the children survived. But the first became the father of the Moabite nation, and the second the father of the Ammonites. Both proved to be troublesome enemies of Israel.
Lot's family escaped the fire, but escape from a place is not escape from its moral influence. One writer contrasts what the gospel produces with what Lot's story shows.
Of those who receive the gospel, we read that they have "escaped from the corruption that is in the world because of sinful desire" (2 Peter 1:4). That is what Lot's history does not illustrate. Lot and his family went right into the world. The moral corruption that lust produced stained them. Breathing that morally polluted air for a long time deadened conscience, and produced evil ways no one had heard of before.
The daughters wanted to keep their father's family line alive. One writer says they were wrong about God. A far-off cave gave them no protection from what they carried inside.
Separation from the world does not always mean communion with God. The worst corruptions of the world can appear in the seclusion of a monastery or a convent, just as much as in a wicked city. The influences of Sodom had left their mark on the daughters of Lot, because they brought to the cave what they had learned there. They had not learned that God could give Lot a family line, if it were His will, without such degrading means. Abraham and Sarah, Manoah and his wife, and Zacharias and Elizabeth all proved how God could step in to give them children, in His own way.
Two nights in a cave produced two nations. One writer says Israel gained something by remembering where those nations came from.
There was real moral profit for Israel in remembering the source of a lasting thorn in their side. The Moabite and the Ammonite had a shameful origin. These two nations were neighbours and relatives, and they were known for constant envy and hostility against the people of God. The one true God marks it all in His wisdom. Sin then, as now, produced a harvest that was large and long-lasting. In some cases sovereign grace forbids that harvest to be a permanent misery to those who indulged in the sin. "The one who sows to his own flesh," no matter who or where or when, "will from the flesh reap corruption."
The loss is not only in what happened. It is also in what might have been.
If Lot had lived a separate life, his daughters might have married Abraham's descendants. Instead they became mothers of Ammonites and Moabites.
The law later shut this family line out of Israel's assembly. In one woman it came in anyway.
Ruth, the third woman mentioned, is an exception, because there is no stain on her character. She was a Moabitess. The law was against her and cursed her… But by faith she too enters the assembly with her children. The third after her, her grandson, is King David himself. The law which had pronounced the curse is completely set aside in her case.
- Choice. Lot and his family went right into the world. The cave is where that road ended.
- Atmosphere. Long exposure to Sodom deadened conscience. The daughters left the city, but they carried its thinking with them.
- Unbelief. Their plan assumed God could not give them a family line. Other households in Scripture prove that He can, in His own way.
- Harvest. Two nights produced Moab and Ammon, lasting enemies of God's people. Sin reaps a harvest larger and longer than the act itself.
- Grace. The law cursed the Moabite, yet Ruth entered by faith, and King David came of her line. The harvest of sin is real, but grace can set the curse aside.
And they gave their father wine to drink that night also. And the younger arose, and lay with him; and he did not know of her lying down, nor of her rising.
A second night follows the first, and again wine opens the way to the same sin — the last thing Scripture records of Lot happens while he knows nothing of it. Two hard questions follow: how did a man rescued by angels end up here, and what came of the children born that night?
The angels pulled the daughters out of the city, but the city stayed in them. One writer traces what they did to the air they had breathed for years.
Lot and his family got thoroughly into the world, and were tainted with the moral corruption that lust produced. Breathing a morally polluted air for years deadened their conscience, and produced evil and unheard-of ways (see Genesis 19:30-38). That is the lesson I learn from Lot and his children.
Lot is not simply a victim here. The verse says he knew nothing of it, and one writer traces both the cause and what came of that night.
The scheming of Lot's daughters to have children by their father is a sad comment on what they had learned in Sodom (vv. 31-32). Lot, too, had sunk so far into unconcern for the honour of the Lord that he let himself get drunk enough not to realise what he was doing. This did not happen only once, but a second time on the following night (vv. 34-35). We may even wonder that the children survived, but the first became the father of the Moabites and the second the father of the Ammonites — both of them proving to be troublesome enemies of Israel.
This is not the first time in Genesis that wine strips a delivered man of his dignity and marks his descendants. One commentator sets the two ruins side by side, and reads the outcome as a harvest.
We had already seen sad enough results in the case of Noah. He drank the fruit of the vine to his own dishonour, and then pronounced a curse on one branch of his descendants... So it is here with Lot. Angels delivered him from the worst of company... but he came out crippled and wounded, so to speak, only to be dishonoured further... Yet it did Israel moral good to remember where a constant thorn in their side came from: the shameful origin of Moab and Ammon. These two nations were their neighbours and relatives, and they were known for endless envy and hatred toward the people of God... Sin then, as now, produced a harvest, large and long-lasting... "The one who sows to his own flesh will from the flesh reap corruption."
Nothing here happened all at once. The cave is the last stop on a road that began with a look at good land.
It was his own unfaithfulness that had put Lot there. It was his unchecked desire for the good things of the world. "And Lot lifted up his eyes and saw that the Jordan Valley was well watered everywhere... like the garden of the LORD... So Lot chose for himself all the Jordan Valley" (Genesis 13); then he pitched his tent toward Sodom. Next he lived in Sodom (Genesis 14). Just before its downfall, "Lot sat in the gate of Sodom," the place of honour there (Genesis 19:1). What a sad example of the earthly-minded believer on the path of decline! Such men dishonour the Lord, and pierce themselves through with many sorrows.
One writer reads Lot's end as a life's work burned up while the man himself stands safe.
Since he himself stands on the foundation, the burning will not touch his person, though he suffers loss in his works. Lot is a most painful example of this in Genesis 19. He escaped the awesome judgment of Sodom, but everything he owned burned up. How tragically sad that a believer may have nothing to show in the way of real spiritual value for all the years God has given him on earth!
The law shut Moab out of Israel's assembly. That is what makes one Moabite woman's place in the family line of the Messiah so surprising.
Ruth was loving, yet to a Jew she came from a source that was especially offensive. She was a Moabitess, and so forbidden by the law to enter the assembly of the LORD to the tenth generation... (Deuteronomy 23:3-8). This gave an even deeper testimony that grace would go out and bless the very worst of the Gentiles. Whether the Jews like it or not, God has brought Rahab, the once immoral Gentile, and Ruth, the gentle daughter of Moab, into the nation. More than that, He has brought them into the direct line from which the Messiah was to arise.
- Choice — the cave is the end of a road that began when Lot chose the well-watered land. Small steps toward the world ended in sorrows he never planned.
- Atmosphere — years of Sodom's air deadened conscience in his daughters. They left the city, but its thinking came with them.
- Wine — drink robbed Noah of his dignity, and now Lot. One night's sin marked his family for centuries.
- Harvest — sowing to the flesh reaps corruption. Moab and Ammon became a lasting thorn in the side of God's people.
- Grace — the law barred Moab, yet grace brought Ruth the Moabitess into the line of the Messiah.
And both the daughters of Lot were with child by their father.
Genesis 19 ends not with fire on the cities but with a father and two daughters in a cave. How did a rescued family end up here? And what became of the children born that way?
Lot's daughters left the city, but the city did not leave them.
Those who receive the gospel have "escaped the corruption that is in the world because of sinful desire" (2 Peter 1:4). That is what Lot's history does not illustrate. Lot and his family went deep into the world, and the moral corruption that lust produced tainted them. Years of breathing morally polluted air deadened conscience. It produced evil and unheard-of ways (see Genesis 19:30-38). That is the lesson I learn from Lot and his children.
They came through the judgment alive. They did not come through it clean.
The two daughters were saved physically, but they were lost morally. Scripture lets us know that they had picked up the immoral ways of Sodom. They brought dishonour on themselves and on their father, and they brought Moab and Ammon into the world.
God's messengers had told Lot to escape to the mountain. He asked for Zoar instead, then fled to the hills in fear.
How much better if Lot had listened to God's messengers: "Escape to the mountain." It would have kept him from the fear that overtook him in Zoar. He would have known the mountain as God's place of shelter, rather than his cave of shame… If Lot had sought the face of God, he might have found the mountain a place of fellowship with Him. Instead it is the scene of his lasting disgrace. Separation from the world does not always mean fellowship with God… The influences of Sodom had left their mark on Lot's daughters. They brought to the cave what they had learned there. They had not learned that God could give Lot a family line, if it were His will, without such degrading means.
The daughters planned it. Lot made it possible by getting drunk — twice.
Lot's daughters schemed to have children by their father. That is a sad comment on what they had learned in Sodom (vv. 31-32). Lot too had sunk so low in unconcern for the Lord's honour that he let himself get drunk past knowing what he was doing. Nor was this only once, but a second time on the following night (vv. 34-35).
Scripture sets the facts down plainly. The two sons born here became two nations, and Israel lived beside them for centuries.
The written word shows God's moral judgment in plain facts, long before the time came to say it in unmistakable words. Yet there was moral profit for Israel in remembering where a lasting thorn in their side came from. The Moabite and the Ammonite had a shameful origin. These two nations were neighbours and relatives of Israel, well known for their constant envy and hostility toward the people of God. God alone marks it all in His wisdom. Sin then, as now, produced a harvest, large and long-lasting. Yet sovereign grace in some cases refuses to let it stay a permanent harvest of misery for those who gave in to it. "The one who sows to his own flesh," no matter who or where or when, "will from the flesh reap corruption."
The shame did not stop with Lot. It travelled down two family lines.
So here we have representatives of the two sons of Lot, fathered under shameful circumstances, as recorded in Genesis 19. They set themselves against what God was doing… Sad to say, it has often been the case that those closely related to the people of God have been foremost in opposing them.
The law shut Moab out. Grace did not.
Ruth was loving, yet to a Jew she came from a source that was especially offensive. She was a Moabitess, and so the law forbade her to enter the assembly of the Lord to the tenth generation… This gave a still deeper testimony that grace would go out and bless the very worst of the Gentiles. Whether the Jews like it or not, God brought Rahab, the once immoral Gentile, and Ruth, the gentle daughter of Moab, into the nation. More than that, He brought them into the direct line from which the Messiah was to come.
- Cause. Years inside Sodom deadened conscience in Lot's family. The daughters carried the city's ways into the cave.
- Rescue. They were saved physically but lost morally. Escaping a doomed place did not change what they were.
- Distance. Leaving the world behind is not the same as fellowship with God. The mountain that could have been shelter became a scene of shame.
- Harvest. Sowing to the flesh reaped Moab and Ammon. That crop outlived Lot and fought God's people for centuries.
- Grace. The law shut Moab out to the tenth generation, yet God brought Ruth the Moabitess into the very line of the Messiah.
And the first-born bore a son, and called his name Moab the same is the father of the Moabites to this day.
The last line of Lot's story names what came out of the cave. The older daughter's son becomes the father of a nation Israel still knew. Why does the Bible record such a shameful beginning, and what was Israel meant to learn from it?
The name itself carries the scandal. A study of Bible names gives its meaning:
Moab — From father: what father?
The record had a purpose. Israel gained by knowing where a lasting enemy came from, and by seeing how sin bears fruit:
It was of real moral profit for Israel to remember the source of a lasting thorn in their side. That was the shameful origin of the Moabite and the Ammonite, two nations, neighbours and relatives, known for constant envy and hatred towards the people of God. The only God marks it all in His wisdom. Sin then, as now, produced a harvest, large and long-continued, even if sovereign grace in some cases keeps it from being a perpetual harvest of misery for those who indulged in it. "The one who sows to his own flesh," no matter who or where or when, "will from the flesh reap corruption."
Lot escapes Sodom, yet he ends up in a cave. His whole course is one long warning:
Lot had begged to go to Zoar. But after Sodom's destruction he became afraid to stay there. So he took the angels' earlier advice and fled to the mountains. Abraham as a rule walked by faith, but Lot had not learned that lesson. Fear moved him this time. He found a cave and lived in it with his daughters. How deeply impoverished he had become! Lot's history is a real warning to every child of God. Friendship with the world does not always bring poverty of money, but it always brings poverty of soul.
They left the city, but the city had not left them:
Separation from the world does not always mean communion with God. The gross corruptions of the world can appear inside a monastery or a convent just as much as in a wicked city. The influences of Sodom had left their mark on Lot's daughters, for they brought to the cave what they had learned there. They had not learned that God could give Lot descendants without such degrading means, if that were His will. Abraham and Sarah, Manoah and his wife, and Zacharias and Elizabeth all proved it. God stepped in and gave them children in His own way.
Moab and Ammon were Israel's relatives, and its lasting enemies:
The two sister-nations, Moab and Ammon, are known as "the children of Lot" (Deuteronomy 2:9), and they came from an incestuous origin (Genesis 19:37-38). They have always been persistent and unrelenting enemies of God's chosen nation. They also belong to the coming great alliance of nations. That alliance will form under the revived Assyrian power, to destroy the children of Israel and blot out their very name from the earth (see the prophecy in Psalm 83:4-8).
Moab's character became a picture of comfort that has never been disturbed:
Moab is the very picture of self-satisfied, self-indulgent religion such as is seen in Laodicea, "I am rich, I have prospered, and I need nothing" (Revelation 3:17). "Moab has been at ease from his youth and has settled on his dregs; he has not been emptied from vessel to vessel, nor has he gone into exile. So his taste remains in him, and his scent is not changed" (Jeremiah 48:11).
The story does not end with the curse. A woman of Moab, cursed by the law, becomes the ancestor of Israel's king:
Ruth is an exception, for there is no stain on her character. She was a Moabitess. The law was against her and cursed her. It is written, "No Ammonite or Moabite may enter the assembly of the LORD. Even to the tenth generation, none of them may enter the assembly of the LORD forever" (Deuteronomy 23:3). But in faith she too enters the assembly with her children, and the third after her, her grandson, is King David himself. The law that had pronounced the curse is completely set aside in her case.
The nation itself is not written off forever:
Both Ammon and Moab are promised a national restoration in the latter days, that is, when the Lord comes (Jeremiah 48:47; 49:6).
- Sowing. Lot sowed to the flesh, and the harvest was "large and long-continued" — a nation of neighbours who became Israel's lasting enemies.
- Poverty. Friendship with the world may leave a man's bank account intact; it always empties him spiritually. Lot ends in a cave, moved by fear where Abraham walked by faith.
- Carry-over. The daughters escaped Sodom but brought Sodom with them. Changing address is not the same as communion with God. They never learned that God could give what they schemed to seize.
- Character. Moab becomes the picture of religion at ease — never emptied from vessel to vessel, its taste unchanged, saying with Laodicea, "I need nothing."
- Grace. The law shut Moab out for ten generations. God sets it aside for one believing Moabitess, and King David comes from her line. Even the nation is promised restoration when the Lord comes.
And the younger, she also bore a son, and called his name Ben-ammi; the same is the father of the children of Ammon to this day.
Commentary for this verse has not been generated yet.
And Abraham departed thence towards the south country, and dwelt between Kadesh and Shur, and sojourned at Gerar.
Abraham leaves the place where he had prayed for Sodom and settles as a stranger in Gerar, a Philistine town. The verse reads like a travel note, but commentators see in it the first step of the fall that follows.
Just before this, Abraham had prayed before the Lord for Sodom. One writer links what follows to the ground he left behind.
Yet a marked season of favour and blessing may come just before a great humiliation through carelessness and sin. So it was now with Abraham, as he lived as a stranger in the land of the Philistines. Was it that he too, like Lot, was afraid to stay under the shield of the Almighty after seeing the recent judgments? What is certain is that he travelled away from the place where he once stood before the Lord in intercession. From that same place, a little later, he had looked with awe at the ruined plain, where the smoke of the country went up like the smoke of a furnace.
The verse says Abraham "sojourned" in Gerar. One writer shows why that word is not the same as settling down.
Following all this comes the very important and characteristic word "sojourn" (Genesis 20:1). It means day-staying, in contrast to "dwelling," which is permanent. Both words occur often throughout the Old and New Testaments, carrying important principles. So Peter urges believers, as sojourners and pilgrims, to abstain from the passions of the flesh, and to spend the time of their sojourning here in fear. They are to be only travellers in this world. They must not make it their home or dwelling place. On the other hand, these pilgrims dwell in God, and His word dwells in them, and His Spirit dwells in them.
One writer reads the verse by what each place name means.
He journeyed toward the south, which is typical of pleasant circumstances, but nearly always having danger in it. He dwelt between Kadesh and Shur. Kadesh means "set apart for a purpose," which beautifully describes God's work with Abraham, and is true of all Christians too. But Shur means "point of observation." Does this not tell us something? We know we are set apart for God, yet we sometimes look the other way to see what others may be doing.
The name of the town he moved into carries a warning too.
Is it surprising that after this he lived as a stranger in Gerar? Gerar, a Philistine city, means "dragging away." If our own observation leads us, we are always likely to be dragged away from the place of devoted separation to God.
Years earlier Abraham had gone down to Egypt. One writer compares the two places while commenting on Isaac's later visit to Gerar.
There is an obvious difference between Egypt and Gerar. Egypt expresses the world in its natural resources and its independence of God... Egypt lay further from Canaan than Gerar, and in moral terms it pictures a soul further from God... So Gerar was a step forward from Egypt. But it still lay within reach of very dangerous influences. Abraham got into trouble there, and so does Isaac in this chapter, and in exactly the same way.
One writer explains how a fault can stay out of sight for years.
It is remarkable to watch Abraham coming up out of Egypt — building an altar and pitching a tent... entertaining the heavenly visitors and interceding for his brother Lot. He passed through such brilliant scenes over a series of years. All that time this moral point, in which he had erred at the very start of his course, remained unsettled in his heart. True, it did not show itself during that period, but why not? Because Abraham was not in circumstances that called it out — yet it was there all the same.
Another writer looks past the personal failure to what the enemy was aiming at.
Then, under the stress of famine, he had turned aside from the land and slipped into Egypt. Here, without any such trying circumstances, but simply from fear of man, he denies the one through whom God had definitely assured him the promised heir would come. In one case he gives up the testimony of the inheritance; in the other he clouds the testimony to the heir. Then, as now, behind every failure of the people of God the enemy is attacking some great truth connected with their calling.
- Step — Abraham leaves the place where he had stood before the Lord in prayer. A high season of favour can come just before a deep fall.
- Stranger — "Sojourn" means day-staying, not dwelling. Believers travel through this world; God, His word and His Spirit dwell in them.
- Drift — He camps between Kadesh ("set apart") and Shur ("point of observation"), then ends up in Gerar ("dragging away"). Watching others drags you out of separation to God.
- Border — Gerar stands nearer to God than Egypt, yet still within reach of dangerous influences. Abraham and Isaac both fell there in the same way.
- Root — A weak point can lie unsettled through years of brilliant service until circumstances touch it. Through it the enemy attacks a great truth of our calling.
And Abraham said of Sarah his wife, She is my sister. And Abimelech the king of Gerar sent and took Sarah.
Abraham has just stood before the Lord pleading for Sodom. Now he lives as a stranger in Gerar, calls his wife his sister, and a king takes her. How could a man of such faith fall this way? And what does God do with His promise when the man who carries it fails?
This is not a new sin but an old one coming back.
Long before this, the pinch of famine led him to travel south, even into Egypt, and to stay there. Now he lives between Kadesh and Shur, and stays in Gerar; and now, as then, he denies his true relationship to his wife. "She is my sister," Abraham says of Sarah among the Philistines, just as at an earlier day he told her to say so among the Egyptians.
The repetition makes it worse, not more excusable.
Again, Abraham himself tells Abimelech, king of Gerar, that Sarah is his sister — a lie blacker than the first. It was meant to hide the fact that she was his wife. He should have learned the lesson of his earlier failure of the same kind.
The failure begins in a calculation about the people around him.
Abraham again shows the dread of circumstances that the heart knows so well. He stays in Gerar, and fears the men of that place. Judging that God was not there, he forgets that He is always with him. He seems more taken up with the men of Gerar than with the One who was stronger than they. Forgetting God's ability to protect his wife, he falls back on the same trick he had used years before in Egypt.
God had already told Abraham the name he was to trust.
God said to Abraham, "I am God Almighty; walk before me, and be blameless" (Gen. 17:1) — which means that he was to walk before God, always trusting in His almighty power. Abraham did not do so; he failed in this respect, for he told a lie (Gen. 20:2), precisely because he did not trust God's almighty power.
Faith and honesty about who we belong to go together.
When a Christian fails to walk by faith, he will always give the wrong impression about his true relationships. Let us not be afraid or ashamed to show that we belong to the Lord Jesus, and are therefore set apart to please Him.
The timing sharpens everything. Sarah was on the edge of bearing the promised son.
This time it was even more serious, for Sarah was just about to bear the child of promise. Abraham's failure might have compromised what God had promised and was about to perform. So God took what we may call drastic action to protect Sarah. He did not deal with Abraham, who had failed, but with the foreign king.
God corrects Abraham without withdrawing the place He had given him.
God made known in a dream how matters really stood, that he must not touch the man's wife. "He is a prophet, and he shall pray for you" — a most instructive example of the way God holds to His principles. He will still honour Abraham in front of Abimelech, even while He disciplines him. Abimelech might well ask, "How can Abraham be a prophet — a man who tells lies in denying his own wife?" Still, God said, "he is a prophet." … The Bible has recorded the sin of the father of the faithful for the good of all the children.
The difference between this fall and the first one is what happened afterwards.
When Abraham fell into the same error in Egypt, we do not find that Pharaoh's reproof produced any visible effect. He left Egypt, but the root of evil stayed in his heart, ready to send out its harmful branches again. It is not so here. Here we get at once to the root of the matter — Abraham opens up his whole heart. He confesses that he had kept this thing in his heart from the very first moment of his journey. Twice it had betrayed him into an act that would not bear the light. He fully confesses the evil, and he fully renounces it — he is rid of it, root and branch. He listens to Abimelech's reproof and profits by it. It was God's instrument. Through it He brought the matter out and delivered the soul of His servant from the power of evil.
- Root — this was not a fresh slip. It was an old plan, kept in his heart from the start of his journey, and it grew a second time.
- Fear — he judged that God was not in Gerar. Forgetting God's power to protect turned a man of faith into a schemer.
- Denial — losing sight of God, he hid his closest relationship. Unbelief still gives the world the wrong impression of who we belong to.
- Protection — the promised child was near, so God stepped in for Sarah. He dealt with the king, not with the man who had failed.
- Recovery — God used an outsider's rebuke to draw out full confession and pull up the root. He still called His failing servant a prophet.
But God came to Abimelech in a dream by night, and said to him, Behold, thou art [but] a dead man, because of the woman that thou hast taken; for she is a man's wife.
Abraham had moved to Gerar and passed his wife off as his sister, and King Abimelech took her. That night God spoke in a dream — to the foreign king, not to His own failing servant.
Before there was any written Scripture, God spoke to people one by one. He did this even with people who knew little about Him.
In the days of the patriarchs, we may say that the only revelation of God was what He gave to each person. God made His mind known this way to Noah, to Abraham, and even to those who knew little of Him, such as Abimelech and Laban. A dream or vision was often used, but it was a divine revelation… The same truth holds even more fully now. We do not need revelation by dreams and visions. We have it in the written word of God.
The reason God gives is that the woman belongs to a husband. No law had been written down yet, but God still holds a foreign king to the marriage bond.
Marriage was God's provision for His creatures. He set it up before the Fall and kept it after the Fall. Before the law He upheld it as something no one may break (Gen. 12:17; 20:3). Under the law He guarded it with clear commands (Ex. 20:14, 17). The Lord confirmed its sanctity again (Matt. 19:3-9). And the New Testament declares it honourable for all (Heb. 13:4).
Abimelech hears the words as a threat of execution and protests that his nation is innocent. But the words describe where he already stood. They were not a sentence God had passed.
Abimelech had Sarah in his house, but he had not come near her. So he protests to the Lord: would He kill a nation that was blameless? The Lord had not said He would kill the nation, or even Abimelech. He said that Abimelech's condition was one of virtual death, because he had Sarah in his house.
Abraham had used this trick before in Egypt. This time Sarah was about to bear the promised son, so his failure put God's own word at risk.
He moved to Gerar and before Abimelech the king he used the same trick he had used years before in Egypt. This time it was even more serious, for Sarah was just about to bear the child of promise. Abraham's failure might have compromised what God had promised and was about to perform. So God took what we may call drastic action to protect Sarah, not dealing with Abraham who had failed, but with the heathen king.
God says nothing to Abraham here. He lets the rebuke reach him through the man he wronged.
God stepped in again in mercy. This time it was not by plagues, as He did with Pharaoh, but by speaking to Abimelech in a dream… Why did God not reprove Abraham Himself? Was it not because Abimelech's rebuke would make him feel ashamed before the man he had wronged?
Abraham is in the wrong, yet God moves against the king on his behalf.
In the case of Abraham and Abimelech, it was divine care over one He had called out to walk before Him. "He rebuked kings on their account, saying, 'Touch not my anointed ones, do my prophets no harm!'" (Ps. 105:15). God cares for those He calls to walk before Him. Abimelech had taken a member of Abraham's family by tyrannical power. God shows that no one can touch His people on earth and go unpunished.
Abraham lied, and God still calls him a prophet who can pray for the king.
However great their failure, God does not give up His people. He will never throw away His pearls because of some grit that clings to them… God tells Abimelech that the very man who had so wronged him stands so near to Him that he can pray for him. Despite his failure, he is a prophet, and one who prays to God for others, and God does not withdraw these high privileges because of his failures.
- Warning — God comes at night to a king who hardly knows Him. He can make His mind known to anyone.
- Reason — the woman has a husband. God held marriage binding long before any law was written down.
- Danger — "a dead man" describes where Abimelech already stood while Sarah was under his roof. It was not a sentence God had passed.
- Protection — Sarah was about to bear the child of promise. God acted to guard what His servant's failure had put at risk.
- Grace — God rebukes a king for Abraham's sake. He still calls Abraham a prophet who can pray for others. Failure does not cancel that place.
But Abimelech had not come near her. And he said, Lord, wilt thou also kill a righteous nation?
A king takes a woman into his household, and that same night God tells him he is a dead man. The king answers that he never touched her, and pleads for a people he calls innocent — but does a clean record before people settle anything before God?
Commentators point out that Abimelech is answering a threat God never made.
Abimelech had Sarah in his house, but he had not come near her. So he protests to the Lord: would He kill a nation that was blameless? The Lord had not said He would kill the nation, or even Abimelech. He said that Abimelech was as good as dead because he had Sarah in his house — even though, as Abimelech said, both Abraham and Sarah had deceived the Philistines.
Abimelech does not plead for himself alone. God does not brush the plea aside — but it does not change Abraham's place.
The Philistine king, though, could plead that his heart was sincere and his hands were clean. He counted his people as one with himself. "Lord, will you kill an innocent people?" Abraham and Sarah were both guilty of deceit. Yet note this: God allowed the plea, showing that He had kept the king from actual sin. Even so, He maintains the special place Abraham held.
A clear conscience does not cancel the sentence God has already spoken. The better-behaved man ends up in debt to the man who deceived him.
Yes, with all "the integrity of his heart and the innocence of his hands," the king of Gerar was "but a dead man." What is more, he had to depend on the prayers of that erring and inconsistent stranger to get his household's health restored.
The timing explains why God acted so sharply. Writers point out what Sarah was about to bear, and whom God dealt with.
In Genesis 20 we get a glimpse of Abraham on a much lower level than he was in Genesis 18. He moved to Gerar, and before Abimelech the king he used the same trick he had used years before in Egypt. This time it was even more serious, for Sarah was just about to bear the child of promise. Abraham's failure might have put at risk what God had promised and was about to do. So God took what we may call drastic action to protect Sarah. He did not deal with Abraham, who had failed, but with the heathen king.
Commentators differ over how much blame Abimelech carries. Some allow his plea of innocence. Others call his taking of Sarah an act of tyrannical power. On God's reason for acting they agree.
With Abraham and Abimelech, God was not displaying justice. He was showing divine care over one He had called out to walk before Him. "He rebuked kings on their account, saying, 'Touch not my anointed ones, do my prophets no harm'" (Psalm 105:14-15). God cares for those He calls to walk before Him. Abimelech had recklessly used tyrannical power to take a member of Abraham's family. God shows that no one can touch His people on earth without consequence.
- Failure first. Abraham repeats an old trick at the worst moment, just as the promised child is due. The trouble starts with the believer, not the king.
- Danger named. God's word to Abimelech was no threat to wipe out a nation. It said that a man holding another man's wife is already as good as dead.
- Plea heard. God allows Abimelech's appeal to a clear conscience, made for his people as well as himself. He had kept the king from actual sin.
- Plea not enough. Integrity of heart and clean hands still leave him "a dead man." He needs the prayers of the very man who wronged him.
- Care decides. God is not weighing which man behaved better. He guards the man He called, and rebukes kings so that no one touches His people without consequence.
Did he not say to me, She is my sister? and she, even she said, He is my brother. In the integrity of my heart and in the innocency of my hands have I done this.
Abimelech, king of Gerar, has taken Sarah into his house and God has told him in a dream that he is a dead man. He pleads a clear conscience: both Abraham and Sarah had told him the same story — so is an honest heart the same as safety before God?
Abimelech can quote both Abraham and Sarah back to God. Neither of them had said anything false, and that is what makes the deception so slippery.
With the fear of man before him, Abraham loses faith in God. Failing in faith, he falls back on his own resources and acts with the deceit of the flesh. He says of Sarah, his wife, "She is my sister." He tells the truth to hide the truth. Once again he exposes his wife to shame to save his own life.
The king's moral sense in this scene looks finer than the believer's. Yet God had already called him a dead man before he opened his mouth to plead.
In this scene the man of the world seemed, for the moment, to have a finer moral sense than the man of God… But notice how God enters the scene to vindicate His servant. He says to Abimelech, "Behold, you are but a dead man." Yes, with all "the integrity of his heart and innocence of his hands" — with all his fine moral sense of right and wrong, he was "but a dead man." It only had to become, for one moment, a question between him and even an erring child of God. In His grace, God was looking at His dear servant from a completely different point of view than Abimelech's. All Abimelech could see in Abraham was a man guilty of an obvious piece of deception. God saw more than that.
Abimelech's protest is not brushed aside. God's answer deals with both men at once.
But the Philistine king could plead the sincerity of his heart and the innocence of his hands. He counted his people as one with himself. "Lord, will You slay also a righteous nation?" Abraham and Sarah were both guilty of deceit. Yet notice this. God allowed the plea, showing that He had kept the king from actual sin. At the same time He kept Abraham in the special place where he stood.
God Himself had kept the king from touching Sarah. That mercy, though, is not a licence.
It was true enough that Abimelech had not done wrong in the way he treated Sarah, and God acknowledges this to him. But God adds that He Himself had kept Abimelech from sinning against Him, by not letting him touch Sarah. How gracious our God and Father is! He protects us even when we put ourselves in compromising positions. Yet this is no excuse for our failure, and we must not dare to count on God's protection when we deliberately do wrong.
Abraham was a prophet and could pray for others. That standing did not soften what he had done to a man who had wronged nobody.
Still, the privileges of being a prophet and an intercessor only increase the evil of his deceit. The world is quick to notice this. At once Abimelech calls Abraham and challenges him about what he has done. Abimelech is right when he says plainly, "You have done deeds to me that ought not to be done." Abraham had failed in faith in God. He had wronged his wife. On top of that, he had wronged the man of the world. Abraham had sunk, not only beneath the height of his calling, but beneath the conduct of a decent man of the world.
- Half-truth. Abraham told the truth to hide the truth. Abimelech now repeats that half-truth back to God as his defence.
- Integrity. A man can act with a whole heart and clean hands and still stand condemned. His fine moral sense left him "but a dead man."
- Allowed. God does not dismiss the plea. He grants it, and tells the king that He Himself had kept him from actual sin. Even so, Abraham keeps his place as prophet and intercessor.
- Protected. God guards His people even in trouble their own unbelief created. That is grace, not permission to presume on it.
- Exposed. A believer can sink below the conduct of a decent outsider. The world is quick to notice when he does.
And God said to him in a dream, I also knew that thou didst this in the integrity of thy heart, and I, too, have withheld thee from sinning against me therefore have I not suffered thee to touch her.
Abraham has moved to Gerar and called his wife his sister. King Abimelech has taken Sarah into his house, and God speaks to him in a dream at night. God's answer is startling. He grants the king a clear conscience, but He claims the clean hands as His own work.
God agrees with Abimelech's protest and then adds something the king did not know. The restraint he thought was his own turns out to have been God's work in him.
It was true that Abimelech had done no wrong in the way he treated Sarah, and God says so to him. But God adds that He Himself had kept Abimelech from sinning against Him, by not letting him touch Sarah (v. 6). How gracious our God and Father is! He protects us even when we put ourselves in compromising positions. Yet this is no excuse for our failure. We must never dare to count on God's protection when we choose to do wrong.
The timing explains how strongly God acted. Sarah was about to bear the promised son, so Abraham's lie put God's own promise at risk.
In Genesis 20 we see Abraham on a much lower level than he was in Genesis 18. He moved to Gerar, and before Abimelech the king he used the same trick he had used years before in Egypt. This time it was even more serious, for Sarah was just about to bear the child of promise. Abraham's failure could have put at risk what God had promised and was about to do. So God took what we may call drastic action to protect Sarah. He did not deal with Abraham, who had failed, but with the pagan king.
Writers trace this episode back to a longer campaign. Sarah in a foreign king's house was not a random misfortune; it was one of several attempts to mix the chosen family into the nations and so stop the promised Seed from coming.
Apart from a faint hint in "Blessed be the Lord God of Shem," nothing showed which line the promised seed would come through. Then Abram was called, and Satan fixed his eye on him at once. On three different occasions Satan tried to swamp the separated line with the nations outside. Twice Sarah was put at risk: first in the house of Pharaoh (Gen. 12:14), then in the house of Abimelech (Gen. 20). His third try, with the same aim, was with Rebekah (Gen. 26)... All this was to prevent the coming of the true Seed.
The chapter puts two men side by side. God's verdict on each reverses what anyone watching would expect.
So in Abraham's case, he might lower himself in the eyes of Abimelech, king of Gerar, and Abimelech might have to rebuke him. Yet when God comes to deal with the case, He says to Abimelech, "Behold, you are but a dead man"; and of Abraham He says, "He is a prophet, and he shall pray for you." Yes, with all "the integrity of his heart, and the innocence of his hands," the king of Gerar was "but a dead man." What is more, he had to depend on the prayers of this failing, inconsistent stranger to get his household well again. This is God's way. He may have many a private dispute with His child about his practical ways. But as soon as the enemy brings a charge against him, the Lord always pleads His servant's cause.
God works here ahead of a sin, not after it. Such care draws far less notice than forgiveness.
I do not know anything in scripture which gives a greater idea of the preventive watchfulness of God. We all know that He restores our souls when we fail. But do we think enough about the little things in our daily life that He has prepared and arranged so that we may not fail? It is "lest I should be exalted above measure" — not bringing me back after failure, but preventing its occurrence.
- Kept. Abimelech's hands were clean because God held them. The innocence was real, but God gave it; the king did not earn it.
- Kept for a purpose. Sarah was about to bear the promised son. So God acted to protect her, even though the failure was Abraham's.
- Kept against an enemy. Sarah in Pharaoh's house, then in Abimelech's, then Rebekah. Three tries to blend the chosen line into the nations and block the coming Seed.
- Kept, and still honoured. God corrects His servant in private, yet defends him in public. The honest king is a dead man; the man who lied is a prophet who must pray for him.
- Kept before the fall, not only after it. God restores us when we fail. He also arranges the things that keep us from falling. That mercy is for leaning on, never for presuming.
And now, restore the man's wife; for he is a prophet, and will pray for thee, that thou mayest live. And if thou do not restore [her], know that thou shalt certainly die, thou and all that is thine.
God speaks to Abimelech in a dream. Abraham has passed off Sarah as his sister, yet God calls him a prophet — and warns the king he is a dead man unless he gives her back. Why the title of honour for the man whose lie caused the trouble, and why does the king's life hang on that man's prayer?
This is the first time the word appears in the Bible. It does not mean what most people assume.
It is clear from this that "prophet" does not mean only someone who predicted the future. That was not the question here. A prophet is someone who told out the mind of God. He spoke by the evident guidance of the Spirit what no one could know by natural means, and so he put the soul all the more before God and His light. So Abraham is a prophet (Gen. 20:7), and the patriarchs generally (Ps. 105:15).
The verse joins two things that look unrelated — being a prophet and praying for someone else.
Being a prophet means having the mind of God communicated to you. That places a man in — and assumes — an intimacy with Him. Such intimacy lets him ask of God, and receive, and get what he asks. By its very nature it produces and implies a confidence, a claim in grace that comes out of intimacy, a possession of His mind that lets him intercede... And note this. The Christian is in the same position, so far as he values his place in Christ: "If you abide in me, and my words abide in you, ask whatever you wish, and it will be done for you."
Abimelech had the stronger case. Abraham had deceived him, and he said so, pleading the integrity of his heart.
Notice how God enters the scene to vindicate His servant. He says to Abimelech, "Behold, you are a dead man." Yes — he was a dead man, for all "the integrity of his heart and innocence of his hands," for all his fine moral sense of right and wrong. He was a dead man the moment it became a question between him and even an erring child of God. God, in His grace, was looking at His dear servant from a different point of view than Abimelech's. All the king could see in Abraham was a man guilty of an obvious piece of deception, but God saw more than that... What dignity is put upon Abraham here! God Himself vindicates him before the world! Not a syllable of reproof! Not a breath of disapproval!
At this moment the pagan king looks like the more godly of the two.
The whole story suggests that at that time Abimelech the Philistine had more godly fear in his mind than Abraham the Hebrew — "the friend of God." Yet Abraham was a prophet, and had power to intercede such as Abimelech did not have! We may learn from this in passing that God does not take away our privileges as saints and priests even when our spiritual condition is low. For the time being, though, we are not enjoying them and cannot use them for the blessing of others.
But the honour cuts both ways.
Still, the privileges of being a prophet and an intercessor only increase the evil of his double-dealing. The world is quick to see this. Abimelech at once calls Abraham and challenges him about what he has done... Abraham had sunk not only beneath the height of his calling, but beneath the conduct of a decent man of the world.
The verse is not only comfort. It ends with a warning.
Then the Lord tells Abimelech to restore Abraham's wife to him. Because Abraham was a prophet, he would pray for Abimelech. This itself would humble Abraham and teach Abimelech. Even a man caught up in a wrong without knowing it needs the grace of God. But the Lord also tells him this: if he would not restore Sarah to her husband, he would die, together with his household. Now that he knew the truth, he had to act on it.
- Prophet — the word's first appearance in Scripture describes a man who carries God's mind, not one who predicts the future.
- Nearness — holding God's mind brings a man close to Him, and out of that closeness comes prayer for others. The same is true of the believer who abides in Christ.
- Vindication — God defends Abraham before a king who had every right to complain, without one syllable of reproof.
- Privilege — a low spiritual state does not cancel our standing, but it can leave us unable to enjoy it or use it for others. Nearness to God makes the failure heavier, not lighter.
- Obedience — sincerity did not shield Abimelech; once he knew the truth, he had to restore the wife or die.
And Abimelech rose early in the morning, and called all his servants, and spoke all these words in their ears; and the men were greatly afraid.
A dream in the night ended with a warning of death. By morning Abimelech had gathered his whole court and told them what God said. Their fear raises a hard question. Why is the fear of God so clear in this Philistine house, and so faint in the man of faith camped nearby?
The king does not wait. He goes first to his own men, and only then to Abraham.
Abimelech rose early the next morning. First he told his servants what God had said to him. This frightened them, for they were members of his household (v. 8). Then he called Abraham. He protested that Abraham had treated him and his kingdom so unfairly by this deceit. Had Abimelech sinned against Abraham that he should deserve to suffer in this way? What had Abraham seen among the Philistines to move him to do such a thing? (v. 10).
The threat was never aimed at the king alone. Everyone in his house stood inside the danger.
Abraham had assumed Gerar was a place with no reverence for God at all. The morning scene says otherwise. And the way God delivered His message was itself a rebuke.
When faced by Abimelech with his deception, Abraham confessed that fear for his own safety, in a place not marked by the fear of God, had led him into it. The result, however, was that the fear of God showed more in Abimelech than in Abraham. God had appeared to Abraham so often. Yet now He passed him by and dealt with the king in a dream, showing him the true situation Himself. That was a clear rebuke to Abraham. God tells the king that Abraham is a prophet and a man who prays for others. Yet in this matter God ignores him.
God had other ways to deal with this. He had struck Pharaoh with plagues. Here He speaks instead, and He sends the rebuke through an outsider.
Once again God stepped in with mercy. This time He did not send plagues, as He did with Pharaoh. He spoke straight to Abimelech in a dream. He told him he was a dead man because of the woman he had taken, for she was a man's wife. Why did God not directly reprove Abraham? Was it not so that the rebuke from Abimelech would make him feel ashamed in front of the man he had wronged?
This was not a sudden slip. Something had been lodged in Abraham's heart for years.
It took twenty-five years for Abraham to get to the bottom of the unbelief hiding in his heart (Gen. 20). It also took much discipline to teach Peter where his danger lay. And so with us all. "The fear of man lays a snare" — and those who in one company have faithfully confessed Christ have in another, through fear of man, denied Him.
Note the reversal. Abraham feared men and lost his footing. The men he feared woke up afraid of God.
Abraham's failure was on public display in Gerar. That exposure had a purpose.
It was necessary for Abraham, however, that he should come under the rebuke of the world. The world hates Christ and those who seek to be true to Him. Even so, it expects a standard of behaviour far greater and higher than its own. And it watches such conduct with critical, disapproving eyes.
Abimelech had a real case to plead, and God allowed it. Yet the same message that spared the king did not lower Abraham's standing.
The Philistine king could plead that his heart was sincere and his hands were innocent. He spoke for his people as well as himself. Abraham and Sarah were both guilty of deceit. Yet notice what God does. He allows the plea, showing that He had kept the king from actual sin. At the same time He keeps Abraham in the special place he held: "Now therefore return the man's wife, for he is a prophet, so that he will pray for you, and you shall live."
- Warning — God speaks to Abimelech at night. At first light the king tells his household, before he confronts anyone else.
- Fear — the men tremble because the threat covered the whole house. One man's danger became everyone's.
- Reversal — Abraham feared for his life in a place he judged godless. Yet the fear of God showed more in Abimelech than in Abraham.
- Reproof — God passed by His prophet and used an outsider. Abraham had to feel shame before the man he had wronged.
- Restoration — the failure does not cancel the calling. Abraham is still a prophet, and his prayer will save the king's life.
And Abimelech called Abraham and said to him, What hast thou done to us? And in what have I sinned against thee, that thou hast brought on me, and on my kingdom, a great sin? Thou hast done to me deeds that ought not to be done.
A king outside the family of faith asks Abraham to explain himself, and Abraham has no answer that will hold. Why did a man of such faith fall into the same trap twice, and what did God do with him afterwards?
Abimelech asks how he had sinned against Abraham. The answer is that he had not — the wrong ran the other way:
The world is quick to notice such double-dealing, for at once Abimelech calls Abraham and challenges him about what he has done. In plain words Abimelech truly says, "You have done to me things that ought not to be done." Abraham had failed in faith in God. He had wronged his wife. He had also wronged the man of the world. Abraham had sunk not only below the height of his calling, but below the conduct of a decent man of the world.
Abimelech says the sin touched his whole kingdom. This was not the first kingdom to suffer for Abraham's failure:
That root had sprouted and produced its bitter fruit, but the sharp knife of self-judgment had never yet touched it. The root breaks the surface again in Genesis 20, in the matter of Abimelech, king of Gerar. Here the same scene plays out again after years of rich experience of God's goodness and loving-kindness. Trouble came on the king of Egypt and his house before. Trouble comes on the king of Gerar and his house now.
Abraham had held this secret for years. It took a stranger's blunt questions to open it:
This was bringing the father to the point. There was no escaping such plain dealing. So Abraham opens his heart and unlocks the secret room he had kept shut for so many years. He tells it all out. He exposes every fibre of the root that had caused so much trouble to himself and to others.
Abraham's answer in the next verses defends him; it does not confess:
As so often when a believer fails, there is the effort to soften the failure instead of the honest confession, "I have sinned." For a sinner or a saint alike, no three words in human language are so hard to say as those. So Abraham tries to excuse his double-dealing. He explains that Sarah was in fact his sister, though he had held back the truth that she was also his wife.
The warning reaches past Abraham to the reader:
His deception got the same result that a deliberate lie would have. Deceit will likely lead us into embarrassing trouble, for it comes from weakness of faith.
He had assumed there was no fear of God in Gerar. The chapter reverses that assumption on him:
Abimelech confronted Abraham with his deception. Abraham admitted his reason: he feared for his own safety in a place not marked by the fear of God. Yet in the end the fear of God was more evident in Abimelech than in Abraham. God had appeared to Abraham so often, yet now He passed him by. He went to the king in a dream instead and laid the true situation before him. That was a definite rebuke to Abraham.
The rebuke shames Abraham, but God does not discard him:
However great their failure, God does not give up His people. He will never throw away His pearls because of some grit clinging to them... God tells Abimelech that the very man who had so wronged him stands so near to God that he can pray for him. Despite his failure, he is a prophet and an intercessor with God. God does not deny these high privileges because of his failures.
Mackintosh takes Abimelech's "What have you done to us?" and turns it on the reader:
Have you any secret reserve in your soul? Do you have any hidden root of evil deep down in your heart and mind? Is there anything you are keeping back from the light and from the edge of the knife? Search and see! Search diligently!
- Root: an evil you never judge after the first failure will sprout again years later. Egypt came back as Gerar.
- Fruit: a believer's deceit dragged a whole kingdom into trouble. It sank him below the conduct of a decent man of the world.
- Knife: plain questions from an outsider opened the room Abraham had kept locked for years.
- Excuse: his first instinct was to explain, not to confess. "I have sinned" — the three hardest words for saint or sinner.
- Grace: God kept Abraham's place as prophet and intercessor through it all. That is why you can face the same question today.
And Abimelech said to Abraham, What hast thou seen that thou hast done this?
Abimelech has already challenged Abraham about what he did. Now he presses for the reason behind it. The answer will bring into the open something Abraham had kept hidden for years.
The question leaves Abraham no room to dodge, and he answers in full.
"And Abimelech said to Abraham, What did you see, that you did this thing?" This was bringing the father to a point. There was no escaping such plain dealing. So Abraham frankly opens his heart and unlocks that secret room he had kept shut for so many years. He tells it all out. He exposes every fibre of the root that had caused so much trouble to himself and to others. Let us listen to the open confession of this dear and honoured man of God: "I did it because I thought, There is no fear of God at all in this place, and they will kill me because of my wife."
The story did not start in Gerar. Abraham had told it before, in Egypt, and the rebuke he got there changed nothing underneath.
When Abraham went down into Egypt, he made an agreement with Sarah his wife to conceal part of the truth. "Say, I ask you," he said, "that you are my sister" (Gen. 12:13). One evil always leads to another… The Lord struck Pharaoh's house because he had taken Sarah into it, and Pharaoh rebuked Abraham for what he had done. Even so, Abraham says nothing at all about the deliberate agreement he had made with his wife to hold back part of the truth. He takes the rebuke in silence and goes on his way. But the root of the evil stayed in his heart. It was ready to show itself at any time if circumstances arose to draw it out.
Years of faithful living lie between Egypt and Gerar. None of it settled this one point.
It is remarkable to watch Abraham pass through such brilliant scenes over a series of years. All that time this moral point stays unsettled in his heart — the point where he had gone wrong at the very start of his course. It did not show itself in those years, because Abraham was not in circumstances that would call it out. Yet there it was all the same. The evil was not fully brought out — not confessed, not got rid of. Here is the proof. The moment he again meets circumstances that could work on his weak point, the weak point shows itself at once.
The same writer finds the pattern in Peter.
We can never know what is in our hearts until circumstances arise to draw it out. Peter did not imagine that he could deny his Lord. But he got into circumstances that pressed on his particular weakness, and he showed that the weakness was there.
God did not rebuke Abraham directly. One writer sees purpose in that.
Why did God not directly reprove Abraham? Was it not because the reproof he received from Abimelech would make him feel ashamed before the face of the man he had wronged?
The charge is fair. It measures Abraham against the standard of an ordinary honest man.
Still, the privileges of being a prophet and an intercessor only increase the evil of his double-dealing. The world is quick to notice this. At once Abimelech calls Abraham and challenges him about what he has done. In plain language Abimelech truly says, "You have done to me things that ought not to be done." Abraham had failed in faith in God. He had wronged his wife. He had also wronged the man of the world. Abraham had sunk not only below the height of his calling, but below the conduct of a decent man of the world.
Mackintosh turns from Abraham's root to the reader's own.
Here was the root of the whole matter… Have we not all our roots? Yes, truly — deep, strong and bitter roots. They have brought a world of sorrow and shame on ourselves, and trouble to the people we deal with. Well then, we must reach these roots and judge them. As long as they stay unreached and unjudged, we simply cannot reach the higher stages of the path of devotedness.
- The root. The question exposed an old agreement. Years earlier in Egypt, Abraham asked Sarah to hold back part of the truth.
- Hidden, not gone. Abraham took Pharaoh's rebuke in silence, and the root stayed. Nothing between Egypt and Gerar drew it out.
- Drawn out. Weakness shows itself only when circumstances press on it. Peter found that out in a denial he never thought possible.
- Exposed. God let the rebuke come from the man Abraham had wronged, so Abraham would feel the shame face to face. He had sunk below the conduct of a decent man of the world.
- Judged. The question forced the secret room open at last. Roots left unreached and unjudged block any real progress.
And Abraham said, Because I said, Surely the fear of God is not in this place, and they will kill me for my wife's sake.
Abimelech asks Abraham why he did it. Abraham gives his reason: he had already judged Gerar as a place with no fear of God, so he expected the men there to kill him over his wife. The verse opens up two questions at once — was his estimate of the place true, and what does it say about the man who made it?
Abraham's reason rests on one phrase: the fear of God. The word behind it is used elsewhere in Scripture too.
θεοσέβεια (theosebeia) means 'worship or reverence of God' or 'reverential fear of God' (1 Tim. 2:10). The Greek Old Testament uses the same word for 'the fear of God' in Gen. 20:11, and for 'the fear of the Lord' in Job 28:28.
Abraham makes an accusation against a whole city. One writer notes what that accusation reveals about the accuser at that moment.
How low this man of God has fallen! He is carried away by his own thoughts, thinking only of himself and his safety. He acts with a double-dealing that shows he himself did not have the fear of God before him at that moment — however much he may charge others with lacking the fear of God.
The chain in Abraham's sentence runs from a thought, to a fear, to a concealment. One writer points to the weakness behind it.
Abraham's explanation sadly shows the weakness of his faith in the living God. If God had led him to that place, God would sustain him — whether the fear of God was in the place or not. But he says he thought the fear of God was not in the place. He reasoned that the men there might kill him for his wife's sake. So he concealed the truth that Sarah was his wife.
So what did Abraham trust instead? One writer answers that, and shows where such evasions come from.
Because he thought the fear of God was not in that place, he chose a lie for his confidence instead of the God of truth and faithfulness. Dodging and lying are the natural tools of spiritual timidity. God is the believer's strength.
The rest of the chapter tests Abraham's assessment against the facts, and the test does not go his way.
Abraham found that he was wrong in thinking that the fear of God was not in Gerar. It was the fear of God that moved Abimelech to restore Sarah to her husband. The same fear moved him to add gifts for Abraham: sheep, oxen, and servants, both male and female. The very receiving of such gifts would be a reproof to Abraham's fear, but a kind reproof.
Abraham does not stop at his motive. He goes on to argue that what he said was true as far as it went.
So often when a believer fails, he tries to soften the failure instead of making the honest confession, "I have sinned." No three words in human language are so hard to say — for a sinner or a saint — as the words, "I have sinned." So Abraham tries to excuse his double-dealing. He explains that it was quite true that Sarah was his sister, even though he had held back the truth that she was also his wife.
Behind the excuse lies a deeper root. One writer turns that straight on the reader.
Have we not all our roots? Yes, truly — deep, strong and bitter roots. They have brought a world of sorrow and shame to ourselves, and trouble to the people we had to deal with. Well then, we must reach these roots and judge them. As long as they stay unreached and unjudged, it is completely impossible for us to reach the higher stages of the path of devotedness.
Scripture records this episode without protecting Abraham's reputation. One writer sees that honesty as a mark of the Bible itself.
When false sacred writings touch on real events, they praise their heroes and carefully hide their faults, even when they do not sink to outright fable. The Spirit of God deals very differently. In the Old Testament He deals with the conduct of the fathers or the people of Israel. In the New He deals with the sins even of an apostle, and with the shame of a whole assembly.
- Thought — the trouble starts with "I thought": Abraham's own reasoning, not his faith, sets his course.
- Fear — the phrase means reverence toward God. The man who says others lack it is acting without it himself.
- Substitute — when confidence in God goes missing, something fills the gap. Here it was a lie. Timidity reaches for evasion.
- Correction — Gerar feared God more than Abraham thought. Abimelech's gifts were a kind reproof of his wrong estimate.
- Root — the cure is not explanation but honest confession. Roots left unjudged keep bearing the same fruit.
But she is also truly my sister, the daughter of my father, but not the daughter of my mother; and she became my wife.
Abimelech, the king of Gerar, has discovered that Sarah is Abraham's wife and demands an explanation. Abraham answers with a fact that raises a harder question: can a true statement still be a lie?
Abraham's defence rests on a technicality. He had not invented a relationship. He had left out the one that mattered more. It is the half-and-half quality that makes this so dangerous to believers.
The simple trick that Abram suggested to Sarai was not a downright lie. Sarai was his half sister, as we find in Genesis 20:12. Yet it worked out as a disaster. It was just that sort of half-truth, or half-lie, which has so often been a snare to true saints of God. People of the world may do such things and seem to gain by them. But if saints of God sink to that level, they always end up the losers.
One writer traces this habit to its source, and warns where it leads.
He wanted Abimelech to understand that he had not told an outright lie. Sarah was his half sister, and she had become his wife. But his deception got the same result that a deliberate lie would have. When we practise deceit it will likely lead us into embarrassing trouble, because it comes from weakness of faith.
Abraham gives an explanation, and skips the three hardest words a person can say.
When a believer fails, there is so often an effort to soften the failure, instead of the honest confession, "I have sinned." No three words in human language are so hard to say, for a sinner or a saint, as the words, "I have sinned." So Abraham tries to excuse his deceit. He explains that it was quite true that Sarah was his sister, though he had held back the truth that she was also his wife.
The excuse gives away more than Abraham intended. He traces the plan back to the day he left home, and he speaks of his calling in a way that drags it down.
The same question comes back to every reader.
Here was the root of the whole matter... Have we not all our roots? Yes, we have — deep, strong and bitter roots. They have brought a world of sorrow and shame on ourselves, and trouble on those we had to deal with. So these roots must be reached and judged. As long as they are left unreached and unjudged, it is impossible for us to reach the higher stages of the path of devotion.
Abraham's reasoning began with the assumption that God was not feared in Gerar. Abimelech's behaviour disproved it.
Abraham found that he was wrong in thinking that the fear of God was not in Gerar. It was the fear of God that prompted Abimelech, not only to restore Sarah to her husband, but to add gifts to Abraham of sheep and oxen and servants, both male and female. The very receiving of such gifts would be a reproof to Abraham's fear, but a kind reproof.
The reversal is complete: the outsider holds the moral high ground over the man of faith.
Is it not humbling when an outsider can rightly rebuke the people of God? They failed to hold fast their privileges, and it ended in a breach of common truthfulness... How often has fear of the world been a snare like this! Those who should have been faithful witnesses spoke evasively. So they threw what belongs to faith into the hands of the world, to the confusion and danger of all!
A story this unflattering to its hero says something about the book that preserves it.
When false holy books deal with real facts, they praise their heroes and hide their faults with great care, even when they do not sink to outright fable. The Spirit of God works in the opposite way. In the Old Testament He deals with the conduct of the fathers and the people of Israel. In the New He deals with the sins even of an apostle, and the shame of a whole church.
- Root. The plan with Sarah dated back to the day he left his father's house — an unjudged root of unbelief, still alive years later.
- Fruit. From that root grew a half-truth: true as far as it went, and told to hide what mattered.
- Result. The deception got the same result an outright lie would have. The technicality protected nothing.
- Rebuke. An outsider had to correct the man of faith about plain truthfulness.
- Remedy. Not an explanation but "I have sinned." Roots left unjudged block every higher stage of devotion.
And it came to pass when God caused me to wander from my father's house, that I said to her, Let this be thy kindness which thou shalt shew to me at every place whither we shall come, say of me, He is my brother.
Abimelech's blunt question — what were you thinking? — forces Abraham to bring out an arrangement he and Sarah had made at the very start of their journey. His answer explains the failure at Gerar. It also shows how he now describes God's call on his life, and how long a buried root can live in a believing heart.
Abraham does not say "I panicked." He points back to the day they left home. One writer notes how far back this went, and how little the years had changed it:
The old agreement between Abraham and Sarah is acted on again after so long a time — acted on now at Gerar, as before it had been in Egypt. It had been made between them before they left their native country. It was brought out with them from the very place of their birth. It was, I may say, in them older than anything of God; and after many changes and exercises it is in them and with them the same thing still.
Another writer points to what the arrangement denied, and to how early it started:
Sarah is the wife of Abraham according to promise. He denies this position. Once again he calls Sarah his sister. This was worse than before, for to faith she is the mother of the heir of the world... There is another point to notice here. This was an arrangement of unbelief when he first started from his father's house (Gen. 20:13). So soon was the seed of unbelief at work in the one called according to promise.
Abraham sums up the greatest event of his life to a foreign king: "God caused me to wander." One writer weighs those words against what the call was:
Moreover, it comes out that this failure has an unjudged root of unbelief far back in his history. In a false position he lowers the testimony of God to the level of the world's understanding. He says, "When God caused me to wander from my father's house." He does not say, "When God called me to a heavenly country and a city which has foundations." Instead he gives the impression that God had caused him to wander from his father's house, like any mere runaway.
That way of speaking is not unique to Abraham. Another writer asks whether these are the words of faith at all:
Is this Abraham's estimate of that sovereign call of the God of glory, which reached him when he was worshipping other gods? For a moment he lost sight of the call, the inheritance and the privileges of a heavenly man. He said only, "God caused me to wander from my father's house." Is this the thought or the confession of faith? But is Abraham alone in this? How often do we find words on our lips that do not rise above the level of natural men?
The plan was to say "he is my brother" — and Sarah really was his half-sister. That technical accuracy is exactly what makes it dangerous:
The simple trick that Abram suggested to Sarai was not an outright lie. Sarai really was his half-sister, as we find in Genesis 20:12. Yet it ended in disaster. It was just that kind of half-truth, or half-lie, which so often has been a snare to true saints of God. Men of the world may do such a thing and seem to come out ahead. But when saints of God come down to that level, they always lose in the end.
The name for God, Elohim, is plural in form. In this verse the verb joined to it is plural too:
Perhaps not everyone has heard this, but it is still true. In the original Hebrew "God" is in the plural, which naturally points to more than one Person. Yet "created" is in the singular... Cases like Gen. 20:13 ("God caused") where the verb is plural, like the noun, prove that God (Elohim) was known to be a true plural.
In Egypt the same arrangement caused the same trouble. Here at Gerar Abraham says it out loud. One writer turns the moment on the reader:
Do you have any secret reserve in your soul? Any hidden root of evil deep down in your heart and mind? Is there anything you are keeping back from the light and from the edge of the knife? Search and see! Search diligently! Do not deceive yourself, and do not let Satan deceive you. Deal honestly and truly with your own soul in this matter.
- Root — the failure at Gerar was not new. Abraham and Sarah made the agreement before they left home, and carried it along unjudged ever since.
- Words — "God caused me to wander" drops a call to a heavenly city to the language of a runaway.
- Half-truth — Sarah really was his sister. Truth used to cover the truth still traps believers, and they always lose by it.
- Exposure — a foreign king's plain question drags the old secret into the open.
- Knife — what stays unjudged stays alive. Search your own heart for what you have never brought into the light.
And Abimelech took sheep and oxen, and bondmen and bondwomen, and gave [them] to Abraham, and restored him Sarah his wife.
Abraham lied about Sarah out of fear. Now the king he wronged hands the wife back, and adds sheep, oxen and servants on top. The gifts feel like a rebuke wrapped in kindness. They raise the question this chapter turns on: what does God do with a servant whose failure is now public?
Abraham had assumed that Gerar was a place with no fear of God. The gifts prove him wrong about the very thing he feared.
Abraham found that he was wrong in thinking that the fear of God was not in Gerar. It was the fear of God that moved Abimelech. He gave Sarah back to her husband, and he added gifts to Abraham of sheep and oxen and servants, both male and female (v. 14). Simply receiving such gifts would be a rebuke to Abraham's fear, but a kind one.
Abraham's lie harmed more than one person.
Not only had Abraham failed in faith in God, not only had he wronged his wife, but he had wronged the man of the world. Abraham had sunk, not only beneath the height of his calling, but beneath the conduct of a decent man of the world.
The livestock and servants are payment for the wrong. But they come with words attached — to Sarah, and to her husband too.
Here Abimelech gives Sarah back to Abraham with many sheep and oxen, male and female servants. He also gives him open permission to live anywhere in the land that seems good to him. Yet this comes with a severe rebuke to Sarah, and indeed to her husband. The Philistine had paid the price to put things right. But what a covering of the eyes the husband had been for his wife, in front of all who were with her and everyone else! Is it not humbling when an outsider can rightly rebuke the people of God for failing to hold fast their privileges, until it ends in a plain breach of truthfulness?
The most telling detail is what Abraham accepts. In the day of victory he had refused everything the king of Sodom offered.
Despite Abraham's failure, Abimelech acts in a righteous and even generous way. He is a man of the world, yet his conduct stands in striking contrast to Abraham's. In the day of power and victory over the enemy Abraham refused to take "a thread or a sandal strap" from the king of Sodom. In the day of weakness and unbelief he will accept sheep, oxen, male and female servants, and a thousand pieces of silver from the king of Gerar.
The root of such a fall is losing the sense that God is enough.
It is often a sorrow to notice how the children of God dishonour Him. They lose the sense that He is enough for every emergency, and as a result they lower themselves before the world. As long as we live in the truth that all our springs are in God, we will stay above the world in every shape and form.
Abimelech saw a deceiver. God described the same man in completely different terms.
But notice how God enters the scene to vindicate His servant. He says to Abimelech, "Behold, you are a dead man." With all "the integrity of his heart and innocence of his hands", with all his fine moral sense of right and wrong, he was "a dead man" the moment it became a question between him and even an erring child of God. All that Abimelech could see in Abraham was a man guilty of an obvious piece of deception. But God saw more than that. So He says to him, "Now then, return the man's wife, for he is a prophet, so that he will pray for you, and you shall live." What dignity is here put upon Abraham! God Himself vindicates him before the world!
A chapter later, the gifts flow the other way.
It may seem that, rather than Abraham giving gifts of sheep and oxen to Abimelech at this time, it would have been more fitting the other way around. This reminds us too that in Genesis 20:14 it was Abimelech who gave to Abraham sheep, oxen and servants at a time when Abraham was really to blame. Now it is Abraham's turn!
- Fear — Abraham assumed no one in Gerar feared God. That very fear moved Abimelech to hand Sarah back and load her husband with gifts.
- Reproof — the presents are a kindness that stings. It is humbling when an outsider can justly rebuke God's people for a plain breach of truthfulness.
- Contrast — in the day of victory he refused a thread or a sandal strap from the king of Sodom. In the day of unbelief he takes flocks, servants and silver from the king of Gerar.
- Vindication — Abimelech saw a deceiver; God called him a prophet and made the king's life depend on his prayers.
- Repayment — in Genesis 21 Abraham gives sheep and oxen to Abimelech, and the account settles the other way.
And Abimelech said, Behold, my land is before thee dwell where it is good in thine eyes.
Abraham had lied about Sarah to save himself, and the king he feared gave her back with gifts. Now that king offers him the run of his land — how should a believer answer kindness he has not earned?
Abraham's excuse was that no one in Gerar feared God. The gifts and this offer of land proved him wrong.
Abraham found that he was wrong in thinking that the fear of God was not in Gerar. The fear of God moved Abimelech to give Sarah back to her husband. It also moved him to add gifts for Abraham: sheep, oxen, and servants, both male and female (v. 14). Simply receiving such gifts was a rebuke to Abraham's fear — but a kind rebuke. In fact, Abimelech also gave Abraham permission to live wherever he wanted to in the land (v. 15).
Abraham assumed the worst about Gerar, and acted on his own assumption.
Abraham's own past makes these gifts awkward. In a day of victory he refused everything another king offered him.
Despite Abraham's failure, Abimelech acts in a right and even generous way. He is a man of the world, yet his conduct stands in striking contrast to Abraham's. In the day of power and victory over the enemy, Abraham refused to take "a thread or a sandal strap" from the king of Sodom. In the day of weakness and unbelief, he accepts sheep, oxen, male and female servants, and a thousand pieces of silver from the king of Gerar.
Strength refused what weakness accepted.
The open door was also a test. One writer points out that Abraham did not leave Gerar once he was free to go, and that Isaac later ran into trouble in the same place.
Famine made Isaac leave his place, and though not to Egypt, he went among the Philistines. Faith would have remained, and trusted in God, unmoved by famine. Isaac got into trouble among the Philistines. Gerar was no place for him… When Pharaoh found out that Sarah was Abraham's wife, he sent them away — "take her, and go." But Abraham did not leave Gerar when Abimelech gave Sarah back. Abimelech said, "Dwell where it pleases you." (Gen. 20:15.) Was it pleasing to God that Abraham should stay in that land?
Pharaoh sent Abraham away. Abimelech asked him to stay — and he stayed.
The gift came with a rebuke, and the rebuke came from an outsider. Yet God still answered Abraham's prayer.
Here Abimelech gives Sarah back to Abraham, with many a sheep and ox, and many a male and female servant. He plainly gives him leave to live anywhere in the land that seems good to him. Yet a severe rebuke came with it, for Sarah and for her husband too… Is it not humbling when a Gentile has good reason to rebuke the people of God? They failed to hold fast their privileges, and it ended in a breach of plain honesty. Still, God listened to the prayer of Abraham… "wandering from nation to nation, from one kingdom to another people, He allowed no one to oppress them; He rebuked kings on their account, saying, 'Touch not my anointed ones, do my prophets no harm!'"
The chapter does not end with Abraham shamed. Owning the failure put him back in his proper place toward the world.
With the root of their failure exposed, Abraham once again takes up his true place toward the world, as an intercessor (vv. 17, 18).
Commentators differ in emphasis. One calls the gifts a kind rebuke of Abraham's fear. Another finds it humbling that an outsider had good reason to rebuke God's people.
- Fear — Abraham assumed no one in Gerar feared God. The king's conduct proved him wrong.
- Gift — the sheep, oxen, servants and open land were real kindness. Every item was also a quiet rebuke of the man taking it.
- Contrast — in victory Abraham refused a thread from the king of Sodom. In weakness he took a fortune from the king of Gerar.
- Invitation — an open door is not a call. Abraham stayed on in Gerar, and Isaac later found trouble in the same place.
- Restoration — Abraham owned the failure and stood again as intercessor. God, who rebukes kings for His people's sake, answered his prayer.
And to Sarah he said, Behold, I have given thy brother a thousand [pieces] of silver; behold, let that be to thee a covering of the eyes, in respect of all that are with thee, and with all; and she was reproved.
Abimelech hands over a large sum of silver, calls Abraham "your brother" one more time, and rebukes Sarah in front of everyone. Two questions follow: what did the money and the "covering of the eyes" mean, and what does it say when a man of the world has to correct a believer? (Older translations, which the commentators quote, read "he is to you a covering of the eyes" and close the verse "and she was reproved", where the ESV has "a sign of your innocence" and "you are vindicated".)
after
One writer sets Abraham's two days side by side: the day he refused a king's payment, and this one.
Abraham failed. Yet Abimelech, a man of the world, acts in a righteous and even generous way that stands in striking contrast to Abraham's conduct. In the day of power and victory over the enemy, Abraham refused to take "from a thread even to a shoe latchet" from the king of Sodom. In the day of weakness and unbelief he takes sheep, oxen, servants, and a thousand pieces of silver from the king of Gerar.
Abimelech calls Abraham her "brother," not her husband. One writer hears irony in that word:
God had spoken, and Abimelech acted very rightly. He treated Abraham generously, even while rebuking him. Sarah too came in for his rebuke, as verse 16 records. Speaking of Abraham as her "brother" added a touch of irony to his rebuke. It is a sad situation when an upright man of the world can rightly rebuke the saint of God. But it is a state of affairs all too often repeated.
The phrase points to a veil — the visible sign that a woman is already spoken for.
Still, though he gives gifts to Abraham, Abimelech does not hesitate to reprove Abraham's wife in terms of contempt: "Behold, I have given your brother a thousand pieces of silver: behold, he is to you a covering of the eyes." Had she been veiled, as Abraham's wife, Abimelech would never have seen her or taken her into his house. The veil speaks of the woman being exclusively for the one to whom she belongs.
Another writer turns the words back on Abraham himself:
What a veil Abraham had been to his poor wife! He had better buy a veil for her with the thousand pieces of silver. It was a keenly cutting condemnation — a rebuke no doubt addressed to Sarah, but how it must have touched Abraham to the quick! The Bible has recorded the sin of the father of the faithful for the good of all the children.
One writer draws a wider lesson from the veil:
All the varied beauties that mark the saints of God are for the eye of Christ alone. The moment anything sets out to attract the eye of man, the true character and beauty of the spiritual life are gone. When Rebekah saw Isaac she veiled herself; a very precious sign that she was to be for Isaac exclusively.
Another writer takes the picture further, from Sarah to the church:
This is the way the church becomes a lure to the kings of the earth, when she puts on outward glory... When she leaves her place of dependence as the weaker vessel and becomes the unveiled harlot, she loses her honour in the sight of the Lord. She gains it instead in the sight of men. Sarah was reproved in just this way when the words came, "Behold, he is to you a covering of the eyes."
God does not spare Abraham the shame. Yet He still answers his prayer:
The Philistine had paid his reparation price... Is it not humbling when a man outside God's people can rightly rebuke the people of God? They failed to hold fast their privileges, and it ended in plain dishonesty. Still, God listened to Abraham's prayer, and lifted the judgment that had fallen on the house of Abimelech... He would relieve Abimelech only at Abraham's prayer. But Abraham had to bear shame before the Philistine first, and confess the sin that had exposed him to rebuke from a man outside God's people.
Commentators differ on Abimelech's motive. One reads the gifts as contempt. Another hears kindness in them:
The very receiving of such gifts would be a reproof to Abraham's fear, but a kind reproof.
- Fear — Abraham's fear lay under the whole failure, and even Abimelech's gifts came back as a kind rebuke to it.
- Silver — the man who refused a thread from the king of Sodom in victory accepted a thousand pieces from the king of Gerar in weakness.
- Veil — a covering of the eyes marks a wife as her husband's alone; Abraham should have been that covering, and was not.
- Reproof — it humbles a believer when a man of the world can rightly correct him; the ironic "your brother" stings husband and wife alike.
- Restored — the shame is not the end. Abraham prays, God lifts the judgment on Abimelech's house, and the Bible records the sin for the good of all who follow.
And Abraham prayed to God, and God healed Abimelech, and his wife and his handmaids, and they bore [children].
A foreign king has just caught Abraham out in a lie. Yet the chapter ends with Abraham praying for that king, and God healing his whole household — so why would God make a pagan ruler depend on the prayers of the man who wronged him?
The healing only makes sense once you see the affliction behind it.
Then Abraham prayed for Abimelech and his household, and the Lord reversed the punishment He had placed on them in His government. None of the wives in Abimelech's court had been able to have children, because Abimelech had taken Sarah into his household.
Another writer describes the same reversal as a lifting of God's hand, and notes that Abraham first took the correction that came to him:
Abraham evidently accepted the rebuke and, as God had said, he prayed for the king and his household, and the hand of God which had been upon them in His government, was removed.
The order matters. God relieved Abimelech by one route only, and Abraham had to face his shame first.
Still, God listened to Abraham's prayer, and He removed the judgment that had fallen on the house of Abimelech... He would relieve Abimelech only through Abraham's prayer for him. But Abraham first had to bear shame in front of the Philistine, and confess the sin that had left him open to the blame and rebuke of a man outside God's people. How often has fear of the world been a trap like this! How often has double-talk from those who should have been faithful witnesses thrown what belongs to faith into the hands of the world!
Abimelech had the clear conscience here, and he still needed Abraham. God's verdict on the two men runs against appearances.
Abraham might lower himself in the eyes of Abimelech, king of Gerar. Abimelech might even have to rebuke him. Yet when God comes to deal with the case, He says to Abimelech, "Behold, you are a dead man;" and of Abraham He says, "He is a prophet, and he shall pray for you." Yes, for all "the integrity of his heart, and the innocence of his hands," the king of Gerar was "but a dead man." What is more, he owed the healing of his household to the prayers of that erring, inconsistent stranger. That is God's way. He may have many a private dispute with His child about his practical ways. But the moment the enemy brings a case against him, the Lord always pleads His servant's cause.
God calls Abraham a prophet here, and the title carries power to pray for others. It held even while Abraham's behaviour did not match it.
This is remarkable. The whole story suggests that at that time Abimelech the Philistine feared God more than Abraham the Hebrew did — and Abraham was "the friend of God." Yet Abraham was a prophet, and he had power to pray for others that Abimelech did not have. We can learn from this that even when our spiritual condition is low, God does not withdraw our privileges as saints, priests and so on. For a time we are not enjoying them, and we cannot use them to bless others.
Grace alone restores. Set beside God's faithfulness to Abraham, our habit of writing people off looks thin.
How different this is from the way we treat one another! We give each other up so easily, sometimes at the mere suspicion of wrongdoing, when faith would hold on to the people of God for God. How sweet and restoring this goodness of the ever-faithful One was for Abraham's soul! Grace alone restores: "sin will have no dominion over you, since you are not under law but under grace."
- Failure. Abraham's fear of the world led to a lie. A whole household paid for it: God closed every womb in Abimelech's court.
- Confession. God lifted the judgment only after a foreign king rebuked Abraham, and Abraham took the correction.
- Prayer. God chose one channel of relief and no other. Abimelech, the more upright man in the story, owed his rescue to the prayers of the man who wronged him.
- Healing. Abraham's standing as a prophet was God's gift, not his reward. God does not withdraw such privileges when our spiritual condition sinks.
- Honour. God pleads His servant's cause the moment anyone accuses him. That should stop us from giving each other up at the first hint of wrongdoing.
For Jehovah had fast closed up all the wombs of the house of Abimelech because of Sarah Abraham's wife.
Genesis 20 closes with one sentence that explains the whole crisis in the chapter. A royal household had been struck with barrenness, and Sarah was the reason. So why did God strike a foreign king, and not the man whose lie caused the danger?
The chapter records a failure by Abraham, and the closed wombs are God's answer to it. One writer notes that the timing made this failure worse than the earlier one.
This time it was even more serious, because Sarah was just about to bear the child of promise. Abraham's failure might have compromised what God had promised and was about to perform. So God took what we may call drastic action to protect Sarah — not dealing with Abraham, who had failed, but with the pagan king.
Older translations put "Jehovah" here where the ESV has "the LORD." One writer compares that name with "God" (Elohim) in the same story, and sees purpose in the change.
Jehovah struck Pharaoh with great plagues. Jehovah had firmly closed up the wombs of the house of Abimelech. In Abimelech's case the text adds one more thing. God knew Abimelech's integrity in the matter, and He warned him in a dream. Here the name Jehovah, the God of Israel, would have been out of place. Abimelech was a Philistine, and God had already called Abraham apart. Yet Elohim is gracious in nature and character. So He could discipline Abimelech for a time for his error, and warn him, while He preserved the integrity of the family He had chosen.
God shielded Sarah while Abraham was failing. One writer asks what that protection does and does not permit.
How gracious our God and Father is in the way He protects us even when we put ourselves in compromising positions! Yet this is no excuse for our failure, and we must not dare to count on God's protection when we deliberately do wrong.
The wombs opened only when Abraham prayed. But one writer notes what Abraham had to do before he could pray.
God listened to the prayer of Abraham, and He lifted the judgment that had fallen on the house of Abimelech... He would relieve Abimelech only when Abraham prayed for him. But Abraham must first be shamed in front of the Philistine. He had to confess the sin that had left him open to the blame and rebuke of a man outside God's people.
Another writer weighs what that dream meant for Abraham himself.
God had appeared to Abraham so often. Now He passed Abraham by and dealt with the king in a dream, telling him plainly how things stood. That was a definite rebuke to Abraham. Abraham was a prophet and a man who prayed for others, as the king is told — yet in this matter God ignores him.
Some writers read Sarah as a picture of grace itself. Her stay in a Philistine house then pictures grace claimed by people who can never own it.
Sarah in the Philistines' house can never become theirs, whatever they do: grace will not be handled by men's hands. More than that, her presence there stops all the wombs of the house of Abimelech. Their barren claim to grace prevents all real fruit.
The chapter ends with God's people in the wrong and a foreign king in the right. One writer sees the honesty of that record as a mark of Scripture itself.
False sacred writings, when they touch on real facts, praise their heroes and hide their faults with great care. That is true even when they do not sink into outright fable. The Spirit of God works in a very different way. In the Old Testament He records the conduct of the fathers and of the people of Israel. In the New He records the sins even of an apostle, and the shame of a whole assembly.
- Cause. God closed every womb in Abimelech's house, and the verse names the reason: Sarah.
- Protection. God shielded Sarah while Abraham failed. That kindness is never an excuse to walk into wrong.
- Shame. The rebuke came through a pagan king. God passed Abraham by in the very matter he had caused.
- Prayer. The judgment lifted only when the guilty man prayed. God still used Abraham, and humbled him at the same time.
- Fruit. Where grace sits in hands that can never own it, nothing grows. Give it back to its place, and life comes.
And Jehovah visited Sarah as he had said, and Jehovah did to Sarah as he had spoken.
Genesis 21 opens after two chapters that exposed human failure. Its first line answers all of it. Twice it says that God did what He had said. Everything turns on the two clauses — the Lord visited, and the Lord did. Neither one depends on anything Abraham or Sarah contributed.
This opening comes at the end of a long run of exposure. One writer reads its placement as deliberate.
The world and the flesh have been exposed. Now, in Genesis 21, we learn that God's set time has come and the long promised heir is born (vv. 1-7). The slave woman and her child are cast out (vv. 8-21). And the world has to admit that God is with the man of faith (vv. 22-34).
This verse records a promise completed. It answers a long wait.
Here we have accomplished promise — the blessed fruit of patient waiting upon God. None ever waited in vain. The soul that takes hold of God's promise by faith has a stable reality which will never fail him.
Abraham already had a son before Isaac. One writer asks what Ishmael contributed to God's promise.
Ishmael was of no use whatever, so far as God's promise was concerned. Nature can never do anything for God. The Lord must visit and the Lord must "do." Faith must wait, and nature must be still — yes, nature must be set aside completely, as a dead, worthless thing. Then the divine glory can shine out, and faith finds in that shining all its rich and sweet reward. There is such a thing as God's "set time," His "due season," and for this the faithful must be content to wait. The time may seem long, and hope deferred may make the heart sick. But the spiritual mind will always find relief in this assurance: it is all for the final display of God's glory.
One writer sees Isaac's birth as the picture of a greater Son, given at the right moment.
The power of God was now accomplishing what His mouth had promised. The child is born of Sarah, the son given to Abraham. He is a type of Him, the Son, whom God sent forth when the fullness of time had come. That Son came to accomplish redemption, to be the centre of all His purposes for heaven and earth, and to be the judge of all He will cast into hell.
Another writer weighs the word "visited" and sees more than a visit in it.
It was a "son born" that was to make Abraham's heart glad — and we know whom Isaac is a type of. Is it not of Christ come to dwell — no longer merely to visit — that the figure speaks?
One writer stretches the same pattern over a far longer wait than Abraham's.
Abraham's faith had waited long, until he was 100 years old. Then grace, seen in Sarah, bore the fruit that God had promised. This pictures how believers all through the Old Testament waited for centuries. Then the grace of God came to its full, beautiful fruit in the birth of the Lord Jesus. He came at God's appointed time, after the law had proved itself unable to bring forth any fruit for God. He has come to fill the hearts of the faithful with deepest joy, just as Abraham and Sarah were so delighted with their son that they named him Isaac, meaning "laughter."
Sarah had already laughed at the promise in unbelief. Now the same woman laughs again, with the opposite meaning.
So Isaac's birth was the occasion of joy in measure, as his very name means. Sarah laughed no more in unbelief, as she once did. She laughed in gladness of heart, in fellowship with all who hear of the goodness of the Lord. It is a lovely witness to the power of grace when faith wins the victory in what had been one's weakness, and sin, and shame.
- Said — God spoke a promise, and this verse shows the same God keeping it. The doubled wording ("as He had said… as He had promised") makes His word, not the circumstances, the reason it happened.
- Waited — the delay was not neglect but a "set time." Faith must wait and nature must be still. Ishmael proved that human effort adds nothing to what God has promised.
- Visited — the Lord came and acted where nature could do nothing. One writer sees behind this visit the greater coming of Christ to dwell.
- Given — Isaac was born at the appointed hour. Writers call him a type of the Son whom God sent forth in the fullness of time, at the end of centuries of waiting.
- Laughed — Sarah's laugh of unbelief becomes a laugh of joy she wants others to share. Grace wins its clearest victory at the exact point of past failure.
And Sarah conceived, and bore Abraham a son in his old age, at the appointed time of which God had spoken to him.
God had named a date. Years later, after every human shortcut had failed, Abraham and Sarah had a son in extreme old age — at the exact time God had said.
The delay was not slowness. One writer sees proof here that human effort adds nothing, and that faith must wait.
Nature can never do anything for God. The Lord must visit and the Lord must "do." Faith must wait, and nature must be still. Yes, nature must be set aside as a dead, worthless thing. Then the divine glory can shine out, and faith finds in that shining all its rich and sweet reward. There is such a thing as God's "set time," His "due season," and for this the faithful must be content to wait. The time may seem long, and hope deferred may make the heart sick. But the spiritual mind always finds relief in one assurance: all of it is for the final display of God's glory.
"In his old age" is not a small detail. It is the whole point. The child came from bodies that had no life left to give. One writer sees in this the principle on which God works and on which His covenant rests.
God's purpose, or secret, or covenant, rested on resurrection. It rested on setting aside the flesh in its strength and resources. It rested on God doing something beyond and above nature, which is the same as resurrection — giving life to the dead and powerless body of Sarah. And so Isaac is born out of the dead bodies of Abraham and Sarah. With Isaac is God's covenant. Ishmael may be blessed — as he is — but the covenant is with Isaac, and with Isaac alone. This tells us again that God has taken resurrection as the principle of His action, the ground of His counsels.
Verse 1 says the LORD visited Sarah; verse 2 says God had spoken. One commentator says the change of name is deliberate, not a sign of two different authors.
To blame this difference on different authors is the hopeless or spiteful excuse of unbelieving ignorance. First of all, "Jehovah" occurs with emphatic repetition (v. 1). His dealings as ruler were in question. Jehovah had promised, and He showed Himself faithful to carry it out. But it was just as important, in the next place, to show that the One who spoke here was God in the supremacy of His nature (v. 2). So the name "Elohim" is used here, and all through the chapter.
An appointed time for one birth points forward to another. Commentators read Isaac as a picture of Christ. The long wait of Abraham and Sarah pictures a far longer one.
This pictures the believers all through the Old Testament. They waited centuries before the grace of God bore its beautiful fruit in the birth of the Lord Jesus. What an answer to their patient waiting in faith! He came at God's appointed time, after the law had proven itself unable to bring forth any fruit for God. He has come to fill the hearts of the faithful with deepest joy. Abraham and Sarah were so delighted with their son that they named him Isaac, which means "laughter."
Another writer names the reach of that one birth:
In the birth of Isaac we have a striking type of Christ, of whom we read, "When the fullness of time had come, God sent forth His Son" (Gal. 4:4). Christ is the One who secures all the blessings promised to Abraham — for Israel, the direct seed, and for the Gentile nations.
Abraham already had a son. Isaac did not improve that son. He was a new person altogether. C. H. Mackintosh reads this birth as a picture of what happens inside a sinner.
In principle, Isaac was to Abraham's household what the planting of the new nature is to the soul of a sinner. It was not Ishmael changed, but Isaac born. The son of the slave woman could never be anything else. He might become a great nation. He might live in the wilderness and become an archer. He might become the father of twelve princes. But he was the son of the slave woman all the while. Isaac, on the other hand, might seem weak and despised, yet he was the son of the free woman. His position and character, his standing and prospects, were all from the Lord.
- Spoken. God fixed the hour in advance. The birth came "at the time of which God had spoken," so the delay was appointment, not neglect.
- Silent. Nature must be still and faith must wait. Human effort adds nothing to what God alone will do.
- Spent. Isaac came from bodies as good as dead. Resurrection is the principle on which God's covenant rests.
- Sovereign. The name changes to "God" in verse 2. The One speaking is not only the faithful promise-keeper of verse 1. He is God in the supremacy of His nature.
- Son. Isaac points to Christ, sent when the fullness of time had come. God gave Abraham a new son, not a mended one. The new nature comes the same way — Isaac born, never Ishmael changed.
And Abraham called the name of his son who was born to him, whom Sarah bore to him, Isaac.
Genesis 21:3 is a single quiet sentence of record-keeping: the child is born, and Abraham gives him a name. Yet God had settled every word of it years before — the son, the mother, and the name.
Abraham did not choose the name at the cradle. God had given it long before. He renamed both parents and tied the covenant to one child who did not yet exist.
God enlarged Abram's name, and He raised Sarai's too: He would give Abraham a son by her. "You shall call his name Isaac. I will establish my covenant with him as an everlasting covenant for his offspring after him" (Gen. 17:19). God would not forget Ishmael, but His covenant would be with Isaac, whom Sarah was to bear at this set time in the next year.
So naming the boy was obedience: Abraham repeated back what God had already said. The covenant would run through Isaac, not through Abraham's other son, Ishmael.
Isaac means "laughter." Both parents had laughed when God promised the son. One writer sees the name itself as God's verdict on one of those laughs.
It is remarkable that it was God who gave the name Isaac ("laughter") to the son of the promise. We tend to think that gloom and severity are the marks of devotion. But Abraham laughed in God's presence. God did not rebuke him for it. His laughter was an expression of faith, and God approves it in the naming of his son.
Sarah's laughter changed too. She had once laughed in unbelief; now she is the one who explains what the name means, and she needs no prophet to help her.
So Isaac's birth brought joy, in its measure, just as his name implies. Sarah laughed no longer in unbelief, as she once had (Gen. 18:12-15), but with gladness of heart, sharing it with all who hear of the goodness of the Lord. It is a lovely witness to the power of grace when faith gives the victory in what had been one's weakness, and sin, and shame. And so, if Abraham gives the name to his son, Sarah needs no prophet, but explains the mind of God in it for herself, and forever.
The verse names both parents: the son was born to Abraham, and Sarah bore him. Both were long past the age of having children.
God fulfilled to Abraham and Sarah the promise of a son. What was impossible for man came to pass. Isaac was born, we may say, on the principle of resurrection: a living child springing from parents who, as far as having children goes, were dead.
The child arrives neither early nor late. One writer sees in that long wait, and in the joy that ends it, a picture of a far greater birth.
This pictures something greater. Believers throughout the Old Testament had waited through centuries. Then the grace of God was seen in all its beautiful fruit, in the birth of the Lord Jesus. What an answer to their patient waiting in faith! He came at God's appointed time, after the law had proved itself unable to bring forth any fruit for God. He has come to fill the hearts of the faithful with the deepest joy. It is like the delight of Abraham and Sarah, who named their son Isaac, meaning "laughter."
Another writer reads the name itself as a pointer to Christ.
Isaac's name means laughter, the laughter of God in view of man's helplessness. Isaac the promised one, the only one, in his wonderful birth and in his name is a type of the promised seed, the Lord Jesus Christ. He is God's laughter over Satan, sin and death.
Isaac is not only a picture of Christ. The apostle uses him — and Ishmael too — to describe what a believer is.
In the letter to the Galatians the apostle uses Isaac, not as representing Christ, but as representing believers — those who are the subjects of sovereign grace. He says, "Now you, brothers, like Isaac, are children of promise." He uses Isaac to set out all that we are as born of the Spirit. He uses Ishmael to set out our old nature — all that we are as born after the flesh.
- Promised — God gave the name before the child existed. Abraham obeys a word; he does not invent a label.
- Impossible — his parents were past having children, so his birth stands "on the principle of resurrection." It is God's work alone.
- Laughter — Isaac means laughter. God chose the name, approving Abraham's laugh of faith, and Sarah's laugh of unbelief became shared joy.
- Christ — the long wait ending in a promised son pictures the Lord Jesus, who came at God's appointed time. He is God's laughter over Satan, sin and death.
- Us — believers are children of promise "like Isaac," born of the Spirit, not by natural strength.
And Abraham circumcised his son Isaac, being eight days old, as God had commanded him.
Isaac is only days old when Scripture records the first thing done to him: Abraham marks him with the sign God had appointed, on the day God had named. The verse ties a father's obedience to a sign that speaks of death to the flesh. Why did the promised son need such a mark at all?
Abraham had every reason to spend those days celebrating. One writer looks at what he did on the eighth day instead, and why God chose that day.
But Abraham's joy in no way weakened his duty of putting his son under the sign of death for the flesh. He circumcised Isaac as required, when he was eight days old, "as God had commanded him" (v. 4). The eighth day points to resurrection in contrast with nature. Circumcision was instituted, not when Ishmael was born, but with Isaac in view, the seal of the covenant. The principle was God's righteousness. Man was judged as evil and the flesh put to death.
God fixed the day, and the number carries its own message.
The "eight days old" shows what a beautiful inheritance we are destined for, because the eighth day speaks to us of new creation. The first week of the old has run out. It is only in the power of knowing this that practical circumcision can be kept up.
Another writer puts it in one line:
Surely the eighth day signifies that circumcision is in resurrection, not in nature.
God gave circumcision to Abraham as the seal of His covenant. The sign made a verdict visible on the body.
What does it mean? The flesh put to death before God; the sentence of death placed on man in His sight, and this in Abram's own person as well as in his descendants afterwards.
The same writer carries the sign forward to what it pictures for the believer.
Every child of Abraham takes the place of death by this sign, which pictures our death with Christ, the full deliverance of a person who has died with Him. Until someone knows what it is to be dead in this way, he cannot enjoy what it is to be free for God.
What did the mark actually do for Abraham? One writer spells out what God was saying through it.
But what does the sign signify? Plainly, it is a symbolic witness that faith, not flesh, is the principle of relationship with God. God says, in giving Abraham circumcision, "You must carry in your body the sign that your flesh is worthless. You must have in yourself the sign that the sentence of judgment is on the flesh. You must submit to receiving a mark which means that faith is the principle on which you stand in relationship with Me." But if circumcision is the sign of a covenant of grace — of relationship with God on the principle of faith — then it is a seal on the righteousness of faith. And that righteousness was already Abraham's before he was circumcised.
Isaac was eight days old. A newborn cannot take in what is done to him.
Circumcision was to take place as early as eight days old. At that age the child could not understand anything about it. Its meaning remains the same whether people understand it or not, just as is true of baptism, which also teaches death to the flesh. You can see the connection between the two in Colossians 2:11-14. In the present age baptism has replaced circumcision. It is the sign that puts a person in the place of death, the outward acknowledgment that the flesh is reduced to nothing.
- Promise. God set up the sign of the covenant with Isaac in view, not Ishmael. It waited for the promised son.
- Command. Abraham's joy did not soften his duty. He acted on the eighth day, because God had said so.
- Death. The sign passed sentence on the flesh. Abraham carried it in his body: human ability counts for nothing.
- Faith. The same mark sealed a righteousness Abraham already had. Faith, not flesh, is the ground of relationship with God.
- New creation. The eighth day stands outside the old week. Circumcision belongs to resurrection, not nature — and knowing that is what keeps it real in practice.
And Abraham was a hundred years old when his son Isaac was born to him.
Genesis 21:5 fixes a date on a miracle: the son God had pledged arrives when the father is a hundred. The number is not filler — it measures how long faith waited, and how far past natural hope God let things go before He acted.
The age here marks the end of a long wait, counted from the day Abraham left home. One writer traces the whole delay:
Through long and lonely years Sarah and he lived in this foreign land. They owned not so much as a foot of it. And there was no sign of the heir who would receive his flocks and his herds, his silver and his gold, and through whom God would fulfil His word... But not until eleven years after he entered the land was Ishmael born, and then not of Sarah. And the son of Hagar could not live before God. Abraham still had to wait... And though twenty-five years had passed since he left Haran, hope deferred did not make the heart sick.
The chapter says the birth came at the time God had spoken of. Commentators press that phrase. The delay was not God being slow. He was keeping His own time, and nature could add nothing to it.
Nature can never do anything for God. The Lord must visit and the Lord must "do." Faith must wait, and nature must be still. Nature must be set aside completely, as a dead, worthless thing. Then the divine glory can shine out... There is such a thing as God's "set time," His "due season," and for this the faithful must be content to wait. The time may seem long, and hope deferred may make the heart sick. But the spiritual mind will always find relief in this: all of it is for the final display of God's glory... Nature had nothing to glory in. Man's extremity was God's opportunity. All is triumph when God is allowed to show Himself.
(Older translations read "at the set time.")
Abraham was a hundred, Sarah ninety. Children do not come at those ages. That is why the ages are recorded: this birth was not the work of nature.
What was impossible for man happened. Isaac was born, as we may say, on the principle of resurrection: a living child coming from parents who, as far as having children went, were dead.
The covenant runs through Isaac, not through Ishmael. Ishmael was born in the ordinary way, years earlier:
God's purpose, or secret, or covenant, rested on resurrection. It rested on the setting aside of the flesh in its strength and its resources. It rested on God doing something beyond and above nature... Ishmael may be blessed — and he is — but the covenant is with Isaac, and with Isaac alone. This tells us again, plainly, that God has taken resurrection as the principle of His action, the ground of His plans.
The verse sits right before Sarah's words about laughter, and the two belong together. Her first laugh came from unbelief. This one does not.
Verse 5 tells us that Abraham was a hundred years old when Isaac was born. Faith did indeed have to wait, but was in no way disappointed: God is faithful... She had laughed at first when the Lord announced the set time for her to become a mother. When He challenged her about it, she added the shame of untruth. But grace changes everything here. God, she admits, made her laugh now. It was no longer within herself, but from Him; and others who heard would share her joy.
Writers read Isaac's impossible birth as a picture of a later one. Every natural hope had to run out first, so that the child came by promise alone.
Isaac is this child of promise. He was born to Sarah when she was 90 years old and Abraham 100. Their bodies were as good as "already dead" (Rom. 4:19), and any natural hope of children was long gone. But it was God who intervened in sovereign grace to fulfil His own word... Isaac then is a beautiful picture of Christ, the promised Seed (Gal. 3:16), who came to earth not because man kept the law successfully or anything like it, but because of the unbreakable promise of God, fulfilled by grace alone.
- Promise delayed — twenty-five years passed between the word and the child. God's "set time" is an appointment, not slowness.
- Promise held — waiting is not wasted; the whole delay works toward the display of God's glory.
- Promise, not flesh — at a hundred, nature is out of the running. Nature can never do anything for God, and the covenant runs through Isaac alone.
- Promise fulfilled — faith waited and was not disappointed. Grace turned Sarah's unbelieving laugh into shared joy.
- Promise embodied — a child born from bodies as good as dead begins the line that leads to the promised Seed, Christ.
And Sarah said, God has made me laugh all that hear will laugh with me.
God had promised a son, Sarah had laughed at the promise, and now the child is in her arms. How did a laugh of doubt become a laugh of praise that she expects everyone who hears to share?
Sarah is not repeating her old laugh. She names its new source: God made her laugh.
Faith did indeed have to wait, but it was in no way disappointed: God is faithful. "And Sarah said, God has made laughter for me; everyone who hears will laugh over me" (v. 6). She had laughed at first when Jehovah announced the set time for her to become a mother. When He challenged her about it, she added the shame of a lie (Gen. 18). But grace changes everything here. God, she owns, made her laugh now. It was no longer within herself, but from Him.
The failure she once tried to hide becomes the very place where grace shows its power.
It is a lovely witness to the power of grace when faith wins the victory at the very point of a person's weakness, sin, and shame. Abraham gives the name to his son. But Sarah needs no prophet: she explains the mind of God in that name herself, and for ever.
Sarah's next words ask who could ever have said this to Abraham. That question is the point: nature had nothing to contribute.
Her faith recognises and owns that the birth of the son is completely of God, and lies entirely outside the thoughts of man. So she asks, "Who would have said to Abraham that Sarah would nurse children?" It was so impossible to nature that no man would have said it. Only God would have said it; and only One who is Almighty could carry out what He said.
Another writer describes the same thing as life coming out of death.
What was impossible for man came to pass, and Isaac was born. It was, we may say, on the principle of resurrection: a living child born to parents who, as far as having children went, were dead. Now Sarah could laugh indeed, and feel that all others would laugh with her. This time her laughter had nothing of unbelief in it; it was a note of triumph in what the power of God had brought to pass.
Isaac's name carries this verse in a single word. Commentators differ slightly on whose laughter it recalls — one writer traces it to Abraham's, since Abraham fell on his face and worshipped when told, while Sarah did not; another sees both parents in it.
Isaac, "laughter," recalls the laughter of both his parents in view of his birth, and suggests the joy that the coming of the true Son brings.
Sarah does not keep the laugh to herself. Older translations read "all that hear will laugh with me," and this writer reads it that way.
It is a laugh which is catching. When it has a place in our own hearts, it will spread to others, as Sarah said, "all that hear will laugh with me." What a blessed thing to be so filled with the holy joy that the coming in of Christ gives to the soul, that others are touched by it.
But not everyone joins in. The chapter itself sets two reactions side by side.
In the two incidents that follow we see the effect of the birth of the heir. In one scene there are those who rejoice; in the other there are those who mock.
Abraham had two sons: one by Hagar the servant, one by Sarah. Only one birth produces this song.
Laughter from God was not to be connected with Hagar's son, but with Isaac, the son of Sarah… This is a true type of grace. The law knew nothing of praise. Hagar's son was born of the flesh. Sarah's child was the child of God's grace and power. So it was afterwards with Hannah. The childless woman who bears a child can only break out in praise.
The long wait is part of the picture too.
Though faith (Abraham's) had waited long, until he was 100 years of age, grace (seen in Sarah) in time bore the fruit that God had promised. This pictures believers throughout the Old Testament. They had waited through centuries before the grace of God appeared in all its beautiful fruit in the birth of the Lord Jesus… He has come to fill the hearts of the faithful with deepest joy, just as Abraham and Sarah were so delighted with their son that they named him Isaac, meaning "laughter."
- Waiting. Faith had to wait a hundred years, but it was never disappointed — God is faithful, and the son came at the set time.
- Gift. The laugh is no longer Sarah's own; God made her laugh, and she owns it. What had been her weakness, sin, and shame becomes the place where grace wins.
- Impossible. No one would have said such a thing to Abraham. A living child from parents as good as dead is life on the principle of resurrection. Only the Almighty could say it and do it.
- Reach. The laugh is contagious. Everyone who hears joins in — though the same chapter shows some who rejoice and some who mock.
- Fulfilment. Only Sarah's son, not Hagar's, carries this joy. The childless woman who bears can only break out in praise. The name "laughter" points on to the joy that came with the Lord Jesus.
And she said, Who would have said to Abraham, Sarah will suckle children? For I have borne [him] a son in his old age.
Sarah asks a question nobody could have answered: who would ever have said that she would nurse a child? She answers it herself, by pointing to the son born to Abraham in his old age.
Her question has only one possible answer, and it is not a human one.
Her faith sees and owns that the birth of the son is wholly of God. It lies completely outside the thoughts of man. So she asks, "Who would have said to Abraham that Sarah would nurse children?" This was impossible to nature, so no man would have said it. Only God would have said it; and only One who is Almighty could carry out what He said.
Sarah's phrase "in his old age" is the point of the whole sentence. Both parents were past the age of having children. So the birth came by a power that works where nature has stopped.
What was impossible for man happened, and Isaac was born. We may say it came on the principle of resurrection: a living child from parents who, as far as having children went, were dead. Now Sarah could laugh indeed, and feel that all others would laugh with her. This time her laughter held no unbelief. It was a note of triumph in what the power of God had done.
The Genesis story never tells us that Sarah believed. Hebrews 11:11 does, and it rests on one settled conviction.
Here, centuries after Moses wrote, the Spirit of God put on record what He saw in her. It was faith about something that in nature would have seemed impossible: "She judged Him faithful who had promised" (Hebrews 11:11). That is a fine reason for faith. With her it was not, Can it be? but, He had said it, so it shall be. She rested in this on the word of her God alone. For who before her had become a mother at ninety?
Sarah's own strength was not the resource. What she had given up hoping for, God supplied.
When God has spoken, do we not judge Him faithful, and expect Him to fully carry out what He has promised? Will He not also give the necessary strength for whatever purpose He may see fit to use us? … Mere natural hope was dead, so that long before this she had given up any such expectation. So God teaches that He alone is the true Resource of His saints.
Abraham gave the boy his name. Sarah is the one who unfolds what God meant by it.
It is a lovely witness to the power of grace when faith gives the victory in what had been one's weakness, and sin, and shame. And so, if Abraham gives the name to his son, Sarah needs no prophet, but explains the mind of God in it for herself, and forever.
Grace leaves her not just glad, but wise.
From now on Sarah, old as she was, has become a child of wisdom; and wisdom is proved right by all her children.
Abraham was a hundred before the promise arrived. One commentator sees in that long wait a picture of a much longer one.
Faith — Abraham's faith — had waited long, until he was 100 years old. Yet grace, seen in Sarah, bore the fruit that God had promised at last. This pictures how believers all through the Old Testament waited for centuries. Then the grace of God came to its full and beautiful fruit in the birth of the Lord Jesus. What an answer to their patient waiting in faith!
- Impossible. No man would have said Sarah would nurse a child. Only God said it, and only the Almighty could carry it out.
- Dead. Both parents were past having children. Isaac came on the principle of resurrection: life where nature had nothing left to give.
- Faithful. Sarah's faith was not "Can it be?" but "He said it, so it shall be." She judged God faithful, and He gave the strength she no longer had.
- Laughter. The woman who once laughed in unbelief now explains God's mind in her son's name. That is what grace does with old weakness and shame.
- Waited. Faith waited until Abraham was a hundred, and grace then bore the promised fruit — long waiting answered at last in the birth of the Lord Jesus.
And the child grew, and was weaned. And Abraham made a great feast on the day that Isaac was weaned.
Abraham's promised son has grown past infancy, and the household stops to celebrate. A feast for a weaning looks like a small family detail. Commentators find much more in it: the joy of a kept promise, and the moment every rival claim in the house comes into the open.
The birth of Isaac had already filled Abraham's tent with laughter, and this day adds a second celebration to the first.
We get both the birth and the weaning. Each of these events was the occasion of joy in the house of the father. The child born was called "laughter," the child weaned was celebrated by a feast.
This is the first time the Bible speaks of weaning. One writer treats that opening scene as God's full thought on it: a house whose laughter has changed character.
It has often been said that the first reference to a matter in Scripture gives us the full thought of God about it. So there is great blessedness in seeing that this first reference to weaning describes a scene of holy mirth and joy. I have no doubt that this is the day which in a moral sense was in the heart of Abraham. It is the day the Lord Jesus refers to when He said, "Abraham rejoiced that he would see My day. He saw it and was glad." Through the exercise of weaning, Abraham's home was filled not with the laughter of irony or unbelief that had marked it before, but with the laughter of holy mirth. It is a laugh that spreads. Once it has a place in our own hearts it will reach others, as Sarah said, "everyone who hears will laugh over me."
A weaned child no longer feeds at the breast. For believers, that step pictures growing out of infancy into the settled knowledge that they are God's children.
It is the father's joy to have children. It is his further joy that his children should know themselves to be children. This was the birth and the weaning of Isaac in the Book of Genesis. All of this comes up again in the letter to the Galatians. We are weaned as well as born. Paul was in labour for them again. As he says: "my little children, for whom I am again in the anguish of childbirth until Christ is formed in you!" ... Paul longed and laboured that they might be brought into the Isaac-state, the liberty of knowing themselves adopted.
Some writers read the stages of Isaac's life as a map of a larger story.
The teaching pictured in the weaning feast is of striking importance. In the unfolding of God's ways, the birth of Christ is foreshadowed in the birth of Isaac; then the death of the Lord Jesus is pictured in Isaac's circumcision. The weaning of Isaac therefore would speak of the establishing of Christianity as seen in the book of Acts.
Others read the feast as a turning point in the life of a soul.
The "great feast" which Abraham provides stands for that wonderful day in the history of the soul. It is the day when Christ is acknowledged as the only One to have the place of unchallenged supremacy. Some have called it the "coronation day." It pictures "Christ's day," when He shall be supreme and without a rival.
One writer traces the same picture from Abraham's house into everyday Christian life.
You see in the picture that when Isaac was weaned there was a great feast; he was to have a recognised position. Ishmael and Isaac had been going on together, as is the case with many believers. Ishmael was Abraham's son by natural birth, brought up in his house. Once you have acknowledged Christ, you will not have a good conscience if you stop doing so. There is a moment when you have done it, but if tomorrow you are drawn away by Ishmael, you will not be happy until Christ is restored to His right place in your heart; you will be like a bird with a wounded wing.
The celebration does not end in unbroken harmony. Honouring the heir brings Ishmael's true feelings to the surface.
But there is one discordant voice heard among the rejoicings of the great feast — Ishmael mocks! When Isaac is given his rightful place, the true character of Ishmael is exposed... If we insist that man after the flesh must go, and that Christ alone must have first place, we shall find that Ishmael is still a mocker. The flesh in us cannot bear the thought of being set aside; but it must go!
- Promise — the birth brought laughter into the father's house; the weaning brought a feast. Two joys over one promised son.
- Weaning — the first mention of weaning in the Bible is a scene of holy joy, and that joy spreads to everyone who hears.
- Growth — believers are weaned as well as born. They leave infancy for the settled liberty of knowing they are God's children.
- Coronation — the feast marks the day the heir is acknowledged, the day Christ is given a place with no rival.
- Exposure — when the heir is honoured, the mocker shows himself. The flesh cannot bear being set aside, so it must go.
And Sarah saw the son of Hagar the Egyptian, whom she had borne to Abraham, mocking.
Abraham held a feast on the day Isaac was weaned, and one boy in the household would not join the joy. What Sarah saw that day shaped the rest of Abraham's family story.
(The ESV says "laughing." Older translations say "mocking," and the writers quoted here use that older word.)
The same event drew two opposite reactions under one roof. One writer puts the contrast at the centre of the scene:
The arrival of such a child marked a great turning point. And it was soon found that he was set for a sign that would be spoken against, as well as for the joy of the chosen. Abraham makes a feast, but Ishmael mocks over the same event. Here was the revealing of hearts. One taunts what the other glories in. But Sarah is bolder still. She will not just share Abraham's joy; she would judge the scorners. "Cast out the slave woman and her son," she says. Here was another heart revealed. She would sweep out everything that could disturb Isaac's full and unrivalled heirship.
Ishmael had long lived in Abraham's household without any recorded trouble. What changed was the public honour now given to the younger son:
There came a day when "a great feast" is made in honour of the heir. This honour put on the heir stirs up jealousy and hatred in those who had long held a place in Abraham's household.
Ishmael's character had not changed that day; it had only become visible. The writers read the two sons, and their two mothers, as a picture:
Sarah stands for the covenant of grace; Hagar for the covenant of law. Hagar's son also pictures the flesh. Isaac pictures the nature that grace gives. Ishmael shows his true character. As long as there was no Isaac, we hear nothing of Ishmael. The presence of Isaac makes known what was in the son of the slave woman. The presence of the new nature makes known what the flesh really is.
Isaac was the child God had promised, not a prize Abraham earned. That is what the mockery targets:
He looks at Isaac as worthless and unimportant. He mocks Sarah's old age, next to the strength and good looks of Hagar. "So also it is now." There is nothing man's nature dislikes more than grace. He cannot bear the thought that God makes one person differ from another, and that man does not make that difference himself. Man naturally frets more against God's grace than against His holiness. He assumes that by some method of his own he can meet God's holiness. But grace is God's ability to meet man in his greatest need, and to bless him beyond words.
Genesis calls it mocking. Paul calls the same act persecution:
"But just as at that time he who was born according to the flesh persecuted him who was born according to the Spirit, so also it is now" (Galatians 4:29). The Spirit of God saw in the mocking of Ishmael an expression of the deep-rooted hatred of flesh toward Spirit. Paul knew much of this. Had he been a preacher of circumcision, he would have been spared much. That would have put honour on the first man, and no persecution would have followed for him.
The pattern did not stop with Ishmael:
On the day when Isaac was weaned, Ishmael mocked. It is the same now: the one born according to the flesh, under the bondage of law, will persecute the one born after the Spirit, in the liberty of grace. The flesh and the Spirit are always opposed. It was so in Abraham's house, it is so in the world, and even in the heart of the believer.
Sarah's demand looks harsh. Yet God told Abraham to listen to her:
It is all the more instructive and important to notice that here Abraham was weak, and Sarah strong. He did not give glory to God as she did. So God called on Abraham to listen to Sarah's voice… She was in the secret of the Lord more deeply than her husband, while he gave the claims of flesh too much room.
The same clash meets anyone who gives Christ first place:
Bringing in the true Isaac, and giving Him undisputed first place, exposes all that man is after the flesh. It stirs up the deep hostility of his heart. If we insist that man after the flesh must go, and that Christ alone must have first place, we shall find that Ishmael is still a mocker.
- Feast — Public honour to the promised heir triggered the mocking. Until Abraham celebrated Isaac, no one heard a word about Ishmael.
- Exposure — The new nature does not reform the old. It shows what the old always was.
- Grace — The mockery resents a blessing man did not earn and cannot claim by right.
- Persecution — Genesis says "mocked." Paul calls it persecution — the pattern for how flesh treats Spirit ever since.
- Decision — Sarah judged rightly where Abraham was weak, and God backed her. What mocks the heir cannot share his inheritance.
And she said to Abraham, Cast out this handmaid and her son; for the son of this handmaid shall not inherit with my son -- with Isaac.
At Isaac's weaning feast, Sarah demands that the slave woman and her son leave the house for good. Her words sound like a jealous mother's outburst. Scripture later treats them as a settled rule about who inherits, and why.
The feast honoured Isaac. That honour brought something ugly into the open.
But there is one voice out of tune among the rejoicings of the great feast — Ishmael mocks! When Isaac is given his rightful place, the true character of Ishmael is exposed. In the same way, the true Isaac is brought in and given first place beyond dispute. That exposes all that man is in the flesh. It stirs up the deep hatred of his heart. If we insist that man in the flesh must go, and that Christ alone must have first place, we will find that Ishmael is still a mocker. The flesh in us cannot bear the thought of being set aside. But it must go!
The gap between the two boys made the scorn easy.
In Abraham's house, where he first appears, he was insolent. Isaac was little more than a feeble infant when he was a sturdy youth of fourteen. He plays with this newly weaned child; he mocks Isaac, who was an easy target for him. The flesh, or the strength of nature, might well despise Isaac, for he was a child and could not speak. He was weakness itself in the hand of his older brother. He is too weak to do anything for himself; someone else must take up his cause.
Sarah spoke, but the New Testament treats the sentence as coming from a higher source than a wife's demand.
God Himself stepped in to tell Abraham not to be grieved at acting on Sarah's word. However he felt about it, his feelings were not to rule in this matter... In fact, Galatians 4:30 calls Sarah's words "Scripture": "What does Scripture say? 'Cast out the slave woman and her son.'" In other words, it was God who put those words on Sarah's lips.
On this occasion the wife saw further than the husband.
Here is something instructive and important: Abraham was weak in this matter, and Sarah was strong. He did not give glory to God as she did; so God called on Abraham to listen to Sarah's voice... Abraham must not treat Sarah's feeling as mere offended pride. She was not just a mistress who could not put up with the airs of an ambitious, mocking Ishmael. She shared the Lord's secret more deeply than her husband did. He was allowing the claims of the flesh more than he should. The plan to send the slave woman's son out of the house grieved him.
The reason given is inheritance. Writers turn to Galatians 4 to explain it.
In his Letter to the Galatians, the apostle asks us to see in these two children "the two covenants": one producing bondage, the other liberty. He also asks us to see in them samples of Abraham's fleshly seed and spiritual seed. The first was "born according to the flesh," the second "born according to the Spirit." Nothing could be sharper than the dividing line between the two covenants and the two seeds. They are completely distinct from each other, and can never by any process be made to blend.
The refusal is not of the person only, but of a partnership.
Grace refuses partnership with law or flesh. The child of promise alone inherits.
Nobody suggests reforming Ishmael. The answer is removal.
The birth of Isaac did not improve Ishmael; it only brought out his real opposition to the child of promise. He might have carried on quietly and properly until Isaac appeared. But then he showed what he was. He persecuted and mocked the child of resurrection. So what was the remedy? To make Ishmael better? Not at all... Here was the only remedy. "What is crooked cannot be made straight." So get rid of the crooked thing altogether. Then give your attention to what God Himself has made straight.
Obeying cost Abraham something real.
It was very painful work for Abraham to have to thrust out his son. "The thing was very displeasing to Abraham on account of his son." But it made no difference. Ishmael had to go, because the son of a slave woman could never inherit promises made only to the spiritual seed. If Ishmael had been kept, it would have been an open allowance of the claims of the flesh. Abraham would have found something "according to the flesh," and so would have had grounds to boast.
- Honour — Isaac's weaning feast gave the heir his place, and that place drew Ishmael's mockery into the open.
- Exposure — the mocking did not create the problem. It revealed a character that had stayed quiet until Isaac came.
- Authority — Galatians calls Sarah's demand "Scripture." The words are God's, not a household quarrel.
- Separation — the two sons picture two covenants and two seeds. They never mix. Nothing mends the flesh; it must go, and the child of promise alone inherits.
- Cost — Abraham grieved, but obeyed. Keeping Ishmael would have meant keeping a claim of the flesh in the house.
And the thing was very grievous in Abraham's sight because of his son.
Sarah demanded that Abraham send Hagar and Ishmael away, and it wounded him, because Ishmael was his own son. Here God's purpose cuts straight across a father's love, and older translations put it strongly: the thing was "very grievous in Abraham's sight."
Abraham's grief was genuine, but it was not Abraham at his best. God tells the husband to listen to his wife.
It is even more instructive and important to notice this: in this matter Abraham was weak, and Sarah strong. He did not give glory to God as she did; so God called on Abraham to listen to Sarah's voice... She was let into the Lord's secret more deeply than her husband. He was allowing the claims of the flesh more room than he should, and the plan to send the servant's son out of the house grieved him.
God does not argue with Abraham's feelings. He gives a reason that stands above them, and He stands behind the words Sarah spoke.
Abraham found this extremely hard to do, because, after all, Ishmael was actually his son (v. 11). So God Himself stepped in to tell him not to be grieved at acting on Sarah's word. However he felt about it, his feelings were not to rule in this matter. The reason he must put Hagar and Ishmael out is told him plainly: "through Isaac shall your offspring be named" (v. 12). Again we get the clear message that grace and law cannot be mixed. In fact, Galatians 4:30 calls Sarah's words "scripture": "What does the Scripture say? 'Cast out the slave woman and her son.'" In other words, it was God who put those words into Sarah's lips.
The pain was unavoidable, because of what keeping Ishmael would have meant.
But it was most painful work for Abraham to have to thrust out his son this way. "The thing was very grievous in Abraham's sight because of his son." But it made no difference. Ishmael had to go, because the son of a servant woman could never inherit promises made only to the spiritual seed. If Abraham had kept Ishmael, it would have been an open allowance of the claims of the flesh. He would have found something gained by the flesh, and so would have had something to boast about.
One writer turns the scene on the reader. What Abraham felt about his son, we feel about the law we will not let go.
It was indeed "grievous" to Abraham to cast them out; it went against his feelings and affections to do so. But it was no more "grievous" to Abraham to do this than it is for us to turn the law out of doors. It clings to us so tightly. It seems so grievous to give up the works of our own hands and to renounce what we have been proudest of. But until Hagar is gone, there is and can be no peace in Abraham's house. Until we give up the law completely, along with every hope we place in it, there is no peace in the soul. As Scripture says, "since we have been justified by faith, we have peace with God."
Abraham's sorrow did not stop him. The next morning shows what faith does with a hard word.
Here was a severe test for Abraham. "The thing was very grievous in Abraham's sight because of his son." Yet he responded to it. He made the renunciation. "Abraham rose up early in the morning" — here we see the energy of his faith.
Another writer names both the cost and where it leads.
To refuse the flesh will call for self-denial, and this involves suffering. So casting out the slave woman was "grievous in Abraham's sight." Yet God reminds him that all blessing is tied to Isaac.
The ones sent away did not drop out of God's care.
Hagar and Ishmael stood for something unhappy in this picture, and they belonged to the world rather than to the house of faith. Yet they were needy creatures, and as such objects of mercy.
- Grief is real. The verse does not hide Abraham's pain. But his feeling ran with the flesh, while Sarah was closer to God's mind.
- Grief is overruled. God does not remove the sorrow. He gives a reason above it — "through Isaac shall your offspring be named" — and He claims Sarah's demand as His own word.
- Grief has a cause. Keeping Ishmael would have been an open allowance of the claims of the flesh, giving Abraham something to boast in.
- Grief is ours too. Letting go of what we have prided ourselves in feels just as hard — and until it goes, there is no peace in the soul.
- Grief ends in blessing. Abraham rose early and obeyed. Mercy still reached the ones he sent away, and all blessing stayed tied to Isaac.
And God said to Abraham, Let it not be grievous in thy sight because of the lad and because of thy handmaid [in] all that Sarah hath said to thee hearken to her voice, for in Isaac shall a seed be called to thee.
God tells Abraham to do the one thing his heart refuses: send away his own son. He gives a reason: the promise runs through Isaac alone, and the rest of the Bible keeps coming back to that one line.
God was not asking Abraham to feel differently. He was asking him to act on a word that cut across his feelings.
Abraham found this extremely hard to do, because, after all, Ishmael was actually his son (v.11). Therefore God Himself stepped in to tell him not to be grieved in acting on Sarah's word. However he felt about it, his feelings were not to rule in this matter.
The pain was real. God did not remove it. He overruled it.
But it was most painful work for Abraham to thrust out his son. "The thing was very displeasing to Abraham on account of his son." Yet it made no difference. Abraham had to put him out, because the son of a slave woman could never inherit promises made only to the spiritual seed. Keeping Ishmael would have been an open allowance of the claims of the flesh. Abraham would have found something "as pertaining to the flesh." He would then have had something to boast about.
God tells Abraham to listen to Sarah. In this moment it was she, not he, who gave God the glory.
Notice something instructive and important here: in this transaction Abraham was weak, and Sarah strong. He did not give glory to God as she did. So God called on Abraham to listen to Sarah's voice, whatever the natural submission of wife to husband might be. It is that very submission in which the apostle Peter points to this same Sarah as an excellent pattern for Christian women. But here the weaker vessel was by grace the stronger of the two.
Her demand was not a wounded mistress settling a score. The New Testament treats it as God's own verdict.
When Galatians 4:30 refers to this matter, it calls Sarah's words "Scripture": "But what does the Scripture say? 'Cast out the slave woman and her son.'" In other words, it was God who put those words into Sarah's lips.
God's reason is not Ishmael's conduct. One son came from human effort, the other from God's promise.
The apostle quotes the saying recorded in Genesis 21:12: "Through Isaac shall your offspring be named." His inspired comment on this is: "This means that it is not the children of the flesh who are the children of God, but the children of the promise are counted as offspring." The flesh can produce nothing except what is flesh… God knew it was a corrupt source and therefore a source of nothing but corruption. So He passed by Ishmael, the child of the flesh. His election rested on Isaac, the child of promise — the son who owed his origin to the resurrection power of God, shown in His promise of earlier years.
The difference between the two sons runs deeper than family history.
One son was by a slave woman, the other by a free woman; one born after the flesh, the other by promise, and the two mothers stand for the two covenants… Grace refuses partnership with law or flesh. The child of promise alone inherits.
One house cannot hold both freedom and bondage. Someone has to speak, and someone will be grieved.
But there must be liberty in the house for all who are of God, and no entangling with the yoke of bondage. Every remnant of law, world, and flesh must be expelled, and only what is of promise may remain… Then comes the decisive moment. What is of the flesh persecutes what is of the Spirit. Grace enables the Sarahs to speak out, and God will have it heard and acted on, though an Abraham may be grieved.
Choosing Isaac was not the same as discarding Ishmael.
For Abraham's sake Ishmael does not go without His blessing. He fathers twelve princes and becomes a great nation. …So a saint's reasonings fall, and God's will alone stands — even in blessing outside the covenant of promise.
That one sentence is what made God's later command to sacrifice Isaac so hard. The promise itself hung on this son.
"Your son" — this word stirred in Abraham the tenderest of feelings; and he had to sacrifice that son! And more: this name reminded him of the promises of God. It was in this son that God would fulfil them, for He had plainly told him, "Through Isaac shall your offspring be named."
- Promise, not production. Ishmael came from Abraham's own effort; Isaac came from God's word. Only what God promises can inherit what God promises.
- Promise overrules feeling. Abraham's grief was real. God did not deny it. He told him not to let it rule.
- Promise speaks through Sarah. God directs Abraham to his wife's voice, and the New Testament calls her words Scripture.
- Promise refuses partners. Law and flesh cannot share the house with grace; the child of promise alone is heir.
- Promise still blesses the outsider. Ishmael is sent out yet made a nation — God's choosing of one is not the abandoning of the other.
But also the son of the handmaid will I make a nation, because he is thy seed.
Sarah told Abraham to send Hagar and Ishmael away. The demand cut him to the heart. God backed it, but He added a promise for the son who had to go. The verse raises the question at the centre of the whole episode: if only one son can be heir, what becomes of the other?
Abraham's reluctance was natural — Ishmael was his own child. God does not argue with the feeling; He gives a reason that settles the matter.
Abraham found this very hard to do, because, after all, Ishmael was his own son (v. 11). So God Himself stepped in and told him not to grieve over doing what Sarah said. However he felt about it, his feelings were not to rule in this matter. God plainly tells him why Hagar and Ishmael must go: "through Isaac shall your offspring be named" (v. 12). Again we get the clear message that grace and law cannot mix. In fact, when Galatians 4:30 refers to this matter, it calls Sarah's words "scripture": "What does the scripture say? 'Cast out the slave woman and her son.'" In other words, it was God who put those words into Sarah's lips.
The promise in this verse rests on one stated ground: Ishmael's descent from Abraham. That link is enough to guarantee a people — and not enough to guarantee anything more.
God assured Abraham that He would make a nation of Ishmael because he was Abraham's seed. The Ishmaelites lived as wanderers, yet God would preserve them as a nation, as He has for centuries… We must not forget that God's dealings with whole nations are different from His dealings with the people inside them. Israel is His chosen nation, but that does not limit Him. He works in the hearts of people in any nation under heaven. And being born an Israelite does not guarantee personal blessing. The New Testament makes it clear that personal faith in the living God is required before anyone receives the grace of God in Christ Jesus.
The next scene leaves mother and son alone in the desert with nothing left. Being outside the household of faith did not put them outside God's pity.
True to her name the poor woman became a wanderer in the wilderness. Soon all their small supplies were gone, and the boy came close to death. The Apostle James tells us, in connection with Job, that the Lord is "compassionate and merciful." We see it shown here. Hagar and Ishmael stood for something sad in this picture, and they belonged to the world rather than to the house of faith. Even so, they were needy creatures, and so objects of mercy.
Scripture later uses these two sons as a picture. One came by promise, the other in the ordinary human way, and they cannot share one inheritance.
One son was by a slave, the other by a free woman. One was born after the flesh, the other by promise. The two mothers answered to the two covenants… The story of the child of promise is used again to show two things. First, that the son born after the flesh persecuted the son born after the Spirit then, and does so now. Second, that the sentence of scripture is, "Cast out the slave woman and her son, for the son of the slave woman shall not inherit with the son of the free woman." Grace refuses partnership with law or flesh. The child of promise alone inherits.
Later, some claimed God's promise by bloodline alone. That claim runs straight into Ishmael, who was Abraham's son too.
You claim to be children, and children of promise only, because you are Abraham's natural descendants. But it is written, "Through Isaac shall your offspring be named." If you take it as descent by the flesh, you must let the Ishmaelites in too.
Abraham's grief is one we share. Letting go of what God sets aside never feels natural to us.
Giving up all hope of blessing on the ground of law, and dispossessing the flesh, does not please us by nature. It does the opposite. Still it is the course that is according to God… God takes away the first, "in order to establish the second" (Heb. 10:9). If Christ the Second Man fills our vision, the first man and the covenant of law that applied to him are set aside.
- Seed named. Ishmael goes because of God's word, not Sarah's temper. The line runs through Isaac, and nothing may compete with it.
- Seed still. God promises Ishmael a nation because he is Abraham's seed. Descent can build a nation. It can never give personal blessing.
- Seed spared. He is cast out of the house, but not out of God's pity. Those outside the household of faith are still objects of mercy.
- Seed divided. Two sons, two mothers, two covenants. Grace refuses partnership with law, and only the child of promise inherits.
- Seed replaced. What grieved Abraham is what God asks of us — the first set aside so the second may stand.
And Abraham rose up early in the morning, and took bread, and a flask of water, and gave [it] to Hagar, putting [it] on her shoulder -- and the child, and sent her away. And she departed, and wandered about in the wilderness of Beer-sheba.
At dawn Abraham obeys a hard command: send Hagar and Ishmael away with bread and a skin of water. Two questions follow — why did the slave's son have to go, and what became of the two Abraham sent out?
The command cut against Abraham's heart, yet he did not argue or delay. One writer reads the early start as the measure of his faith.
Here was a severe test for Abraham. The thing was very painful to him because of his son. Yet he responded to it. The renunciation was made. "So Abraham rose early in the morning" — here we see the energy of his faith (Genesis 21:11, 14).
Scripture itself reads this household scene as a picture. The two mothers stand for two covenants, and the two sons cannot share one house.
Abraham's two sons should speak to every believer. One was by a slave, the other by a free woman. One was born after the flesh, the other by promise. The mothers answered to the two covenants: Jerusalem that was in bondage with her children, and Jerusalem above, the free mother of the free... the sentence of Scripture is: Cast out the slave woman and her son, for the son of the slave woman shall not be heir with the son of the free woman. Grace refuses partnership with law or flesh. The child of promise alone inherits.
One writer turns Abraham's grief on the reader. Giving up the works of our own hands feels like a loss, and he says peace waits on the far side of that loss.
It was 'grievous' indeed for Abraham to cast them out; it went against his feelings and affections to do so. But it was no more grievous for Abraham to do this than it is for us to turn the law out of doors. It clings to us so tightly. It seems so hard for us to give up the works of our own hands, and to renounce what we have prided ourselves on most. But until Hagar is gone, there is and can be no peace in Abraham's house. Until we fully renounce the law, and every expectation from it, there is no peace in the soul. "Being justified by faith, we have peace."
Abraham sent them out with real supplies, but not many. One writer reads the emptied water skin as a picture of what life under law could give.
The water in the skin was soon used up. This pictures life under law. There was some ministry of the word of God, but a very limited measure, so that in the end the law itself would lead to death (compare Romans 7:10).
Hagar left with no directions, and the name of the desert she wandered into carries weight.
He gave her food and a skin of water, but no direction as to where to go. She wandered in the wilderness of Beer-sheba, which means "well of the oath." It is like Israel, wandering in their present state of independence from God. Yet they wander in the very place that should remind them of God's oath: He will bless them yet, without fail.
Another writer reads the same wandering as Israel's condition today, and says it does not end there.
Cast out, they wander in the wilderness of Beer-sheba, and are nearly perishing of thirst. This I take to be the present condition of Israel. The water, the word of life, is spent for them, and they do not see the well. Yet the oath of God, the covenant with their fathers, secures it for their final possession. Their eyes shall yet be opened to it.
Hagar's name suited her: she became a wanderer. But being outside the house of faith did not put her and her son outside mercy.
True to her name the poor woman became a wanderer in the wilderness. Soon all their slender supplies were gone, and the boy came almost to the point of death... Hagar and Ishmael carried this unhappy meaning in the picture, and in themselves they belonged to the world, not to the house of faith. Yet they were needy creatures, and as such objects of mercy.
- Sent early — Abraham rose at dawn, though the command went against his affections. That early start is the energy of his faith.
- Cast out — the slave's son could not share the inheritance. Grace and law cannot run one household, and the child of promise alone inherits.
- Spent — one day's bread and one skin of water show how little the law supplies, and where it leaves those who lean on it.
- Wandering — she is lost in Beersheba, "well of the oath": the very ground named after the promise she cannot yet see.
- Seen — outside the house of faith, they were still objects of mercy. The well was there all along, and one day they will see it.
And the water was exhausted from the flask; and she cast the child under one of the shrubs,
Hagar's water runs out in open desert. With nothing left to give her son, she lays him down under a bush and steps away. The scene raises two questions: why did God let the bottle run dry, and how could a well be so close and yet unseen?
Hagar carried everything Abraham could send with them on her shoulder, and it soon ran out. One writer notes that the empty skin brings the boy to the edge of death, and that God's mercy is what the scene shows:
True to her name the poor woman became a wanderer in the wilderness. Soon all their slender resources were gone, and the boy came almost to the point of death. The Apostle James tells us, writing about Job, that the Lord is "compassionate and merciful." We see it shown here.
The bottle held real water — just not enough. Commentators read that limited supply as a picture of what life under law can offer:
The water in the skin was soon used up. This pictures how it was under law. There was some ministry of the word of God, but only a very limited measure. So in the end the law itself would lead to death (compare Romans 7:10). In her utter desolation Hagar thought that Ishmael was dying, and she left him under a shrub.
One writer traces the picture back to Abraham's two sons and their mothers:
In Galatians 4 the apostle shows the Galatians their folly in leaving grace for law. One son of Abraham was by a slave, the other by a free woman; one was born after the flesh, the other by promise. The mothers stand for the two covenants: Jerusalem in bondage with her children, and Jerusalem above, the free mother of the free... Grace refuses partnership with law or flesh. The child of promise alone inherits.
Several writers take the wandering pair as a picture of a whole people. The detail that carries the weight is not only the empty bottle but the unseen well:
Cast out, they wander in the wilderness of Beersheba, and are nearly perishing for thirst. This I take to be the present condition of Israel. The water, the word of life, is spent for them. They do not see the well, although the oath of God, the covenant with their fathers, secures it for their final possession. Their eyes shall yet be opened to this, and Hagar herself become a means of blessing to them (Deuteronomy 30:1-3).
A second writer adds that being cast out does not mean being outside God's care:
Yet, as cast out of the land, Israel is still the object of God's providential care even as God provided for Hagar and her son.
The well was there all along. One writer shows how far Hagar had to be brought down before she saw it:
God gave Hagar no supply until this point. Weary and footsore, with an empty water-bottle, she had cast her child under a shrub in the desert and gone away, so that she would not watch him die, and so that she too might die. She had not only come to the end of her efforts, but to the end of herself as well. God then opened her eyes and she saw a well of water in her "valley of Baca." (Genesis 21:14-19). The well had been there but she had not been able to see it. How often have we in times of trial allowed nature to obscure our spiritual vision, and we have failed to find a well in the valley!
If a bottle always runs dry, then trusting one is the mistake, however good the bottle:
Are we depending on the bottle, perhaps trying to squeeze some drops from its dryness? Hear the Word of the living God, "To the thirsty I will give from the spring of the water of life without payment." Discard the bottle and rejoice in the fountain. The bottle may even be some favourite preacher, some religious service, something that may be right in its place, but it is not the fountain and it will run dry and disappoint. The fountain is inexhaustible, it is Christ.
- Bottle — What Abraham could give soon ran out. Every supply carried on human shoulders runs dry in the end.
- Law — The limited water pictures a limited ministry under law. It held out for a while, but the law itself ended in death.
- End of self — Hagar reached the end of her efforts and the end of herself. Only then did God open her eyes.
- Well — She wandered in a place named for God's oath. Nothing new was made there: the well stood ready, her distress hid it, and God opened her eyes.
- Fountain — Cast-out people are still objects of God's care. The cure for a dry bottle is never a better bottle, but the inexhaustible fountain, Christ.
and she went and sat down over against [him], a bow-shot off; for she said, Let me not behold the death of the child. And she sat over against [him], and lifted up her voice and wept.
A mother sits a bowshot away from her dying son, and she chose that distance so she would not watch him die. She does not know that water is near, or that her tears are not the only voice God hears.
The water ran out one verse earlier. One writer reads that empty skin as a picture of what the law could give.
The water in the skin was soon used up. This pictures life under law. There was some ministry of the word of God, but a very limited measure, so that in the end the law itself would lead to death (compare Romans 7:10). Hagar was desolate, and she thought Ishmael was dying. She left him under a shrub and went a little distance away and wept. She could not bear the sight of her son's death (v. 16).
Hagar's cry is the first time Scripture uses one particular word. One writer notes the setting of that first use.
The first mention in the Scriptures of the actual word itself shows the bitterness and sorrow tied to it. Hagar cries out, "Let me not look on the death of the child" (Genesis 21:16).
She had nothing left to try. That, one writer says, is when God acted.
Hagar got no help from God until she had reached this point. She was weary and footsore, her water-bottle empty. She had cast her child under a shrub in the desert and gone away, so that she would not watch him die, and so that she too might die. She had not only come to the end of her efforts, but to the end of herself as well. God then opened her eyes and she saw a well of water (Gen. 21:14-19). How often have we in times of trial let nature cloud our spiritual sight, so that we failed to find a well in the valley!
The verse records the mother weeping. Yet one writer notices whose voice the account says God heard.
Years before, God had sent an angel to help her. Now again poor Hagar is at the end of her resources and weeping in her misery. A second time God steps in by an angel to deliver. It is remarkable that while the record says she "lifted up her voice and wept," it adds that "God heard the voice of the boy." Ishmael must now have been about fifteen years old. He had raised his voice for help, since he was dying for lack of water. The deliverance came in a simple yet unexpected way. God opened Hagar's eyes so that she saw a well of water. It was there all the time, but she had not had eyes to see it.
Her distress fixed her eyes on what had failed — the water-skin, which older translations call a bottle.
Hagar's bottle soon ran dry in the desert. Her distress and disappointment at this may have blinded her eyes to an unfailing spring close at hand. Anyhow, she is a forlorn and pathetic figure crouching on those desert sands, about a bowshot from her dying boy. Cast out from her home, her son was her world and her life. Now that "the water was spent in the bottle," what was left for him and for her but death? But Hagar's extremity was God's opportunity, and He turned her eyes from the empty bottle to the inexhaustible spring.
The same writer turns this on the reader.
Are we depending on the bottle, perhaps trying to squeeze a few drops out of its dryness? Hear the Word of the living God: "To the thirsty I will give from the spring of the water of life without payment." Throw the bottle away and rejoice in the fountain. The bottle may even be a favourite preacher, or a religious service. Such a thing may be right in its place, but it is not the fountain. It will run dry and disappoint. The fountain is inexhaustible; it is Christ.
Another writer sees a whole nation pictured in this wandering mother and son.
Hagar and Ishmael wander in the wilderness with the water spent. This may picture where Israel stands today. Israel sought to gain the blessing under law, and so rejected Christ the promised seed. The earthly people of God are cast out of their land and have become wanderers in the world. Yet even cast out of the land, Israel is still the object of God's providential care, just as He provided for Hagar and her son.
- Empty bottle — The empty water-skin pictures a supply that runs out. Commentators read it as the limited ministry of law, which ends in death.
- End of self — Help arrived only after she had come not just to the end of her efforts but to the end of herself.
- Her tears — She wept a bowshot away, unable to watch her son die. Scripture's first use of the word "death" carries all its bitterness.
- His ear — The record says she wept, yet it was the boy's voice that God heard where he was.
- Opened eyes — The well stood there the whole time. God changed her sight, not her circumstances. So leave the dry bottle and drink from the fountain, who is Christ.
And God heard the voice of the lad. And the Angel of God called to Hagar from the heavens, and said to her, What [aileth] thee, Hagar? Fear not; for God hath heard the voice of the lad there, where he is.
Hagar and her son are in the desert, and their water is gone. She has laid the boy under a bush to die, and she is the one weeping — yet God hears him, and the answer from heaven comes back to her with her name, a question, and a command not to fear.
God had already rescued Hagar in the desert once before. This time His ear is on someone else.
Years before, an angel had been sent to help her… A second time God steps in by an angel to deliver her. It is remarkable that while the record says she "lifted up her voice and wept," it adds that "God heard the voice of the boy." Ishmael must have been about fifteen years old by now. He had raised his voice for help, since he was dying for lack of water.
Commentators read that raised voice as prayer.
And what of the boy? It seems he too lifted up his voice — not to weep, but to pray. He was to be a wild man (Gen. 16:12), and perhaps he was a "wild boy." But he had not lived all those years with his dear old father without learning something of the value of prayer. And you remember his name means "Heard of God."
This is the boy who had been mocking Isaac. God meets him at the exact spot his own behaviour left him.
But perhaps some little boy may say, "I have mocked, and now I am afraid the Lord will not listen to me." Ishmael did not mock when he was lying exhausted under the shrub with death staring him in the face… Left all alone, Ishmael "cried," and God "heard the voice of the boy." God, who had been so displeased to hear Ishmael mock, was "very gracious" to Ishmael at the sound of his cry… What a good thing it is in all our troubles to cry to God.
The angel's first word to Hagar runs right through Scripture. It comes to people who stand alone under pressure.
This word "Fear not" comes again and again. It is the assurance of the believer who stands alone in the middle of difficulty and distress and the world's hatred. Abraham, Hagar, and Isaac are examples (Gen. 15:1; Gen. 21:17; Gen. 26:24).
God Himself had told Abraham to listen to Sarah and send Hagar away. In the desert she never asked Him for help:
But the God who ordered her expulsion is the God of grace… At such a time, why did Hagar show no faith in God by appealing to Him? But if not, God would still hear the complaint of her son. The legal principle always leaves one to himself and to his own strength, which must fail. But God in grace tells her to rise and lift up the boy, "and hold him fast with your hand." That is, she was to hold him up so he would not fall. Does it not remind us that God, by His grace, holds up every believer — "for the Lord is able to make him stand" (Rom. 14:4)?
God's care did not stop at the well. It reached into Ishmael's future:
She may have forgotten God's promise that a countless multitude would come from her, and that Ishmael would live in the presence of all his brothers. But God remembered him, and declares that He will make him a great nation. So it has been.
God's answer was not a new well but opened eyes. Commentators turn that into a warning:
Is there not a parable for today in this? Ishmael was dying of thirst within a stone's throw of the life-giving water. Many today are going down to spiritual death with the means of spiritual life right in front of them. The trouble is they have no eyes to see it. God opened her eyes, and at once the need was met.
Some read the wandering pair as a picture of a whole nation:
Hagar and Ishmael as wanderers in the wilderness, with the water gone, may picture the present position of Israel. That position is the result of seeking to obtain the blessing under law, and so rejecting Christ, the promised seed… Yet, cast out of the land, Israel is still the object of God's providential care, just as God provided for Hagar and her son.
- Cry — Hagar wept, but the verse says God heard the boy; his raised voice was a cry for help, and his name itself means "Heard of God."
- Heard — God hears him "where he is," not where he should have been. He answers the mocking boy at the spot his own conduct brought him to.
- Fear not — The first word from heaven removes the fear before it supplies the water. It is the standing word to the believer left isolated in distress.
- Held — Law leaves a person to his own strength, and it fails. Grace tells the mother to lift the boy and hold him fast — a picture of the God who holds up every believer.
- Seen — The well was there the whole time. Rescue came by opened eyes. People can die of thirst within reach of the supply God has already given.
Arise, take the lad, and hold him in thy hand; for I will make of him a great nation.
Hagar's water is gone. She has laid her son under a bush and walked off, unable to watch him die. God's first word to her is not comfort but a command: lift the boy up and hold him, because he has a future.
The angel speaks at the exact point where Hagar has nothing left. One writer notes how long God waited:
God did not sustain Hagar until she was weary and footsore, with an empty water-bottle. She had cast her child under a shrub in the desert and walked away, so that she would not watch him die, and so that she too might die. She had not only come to the end of her efforts, but to the end of herself as well. God then opened her eyes and she saw a well of water in her "valley of Baca" (Gen. 21:14-19). The well had been there, but she had not been able to see it.
The command is physical: she must take hold of the boy she had left to die. One commentator reads it as steadying him, and finds in it a picture of how God holds up every believer:
But the God who ordered her expulsion is the God of grace. He heard the voice of the boy (v. 17), then spoke directly to Hagar: "What ails you, Hagar? Fear not, for God has heard the voice of the lad where he is." … The legal principle always leaves one to himself and to his own strength, which must fail. But God in grace tells her to rise and lift up the lad "and hold him with your hand." That is, she was to hold him up so that he would not fall. Does it not remind us that God, by His grace, holds up every believer — "for God is able to make him stand" (Rom. 14:4)? This is true, no matter how distressing our circumstances may be.
Verse 18 answers a cry. It was the boy's cry, not the mother's weeping, that God heard. One writer ties that cry to the meaning of his name:
And what of the boy? He too must have lifted up his voice — not to weep, but to pray. He was to be a wild man (Gen. 16:12), and perhaps he was a "wild boy." But he had lived all those years with his dear old father, and he had learned something of the value of prayer. And indeed you remember his name means "Heard of God."
Years earlier, at a well, God had already told Hagar about her son's future. Now she has forgotten all of it, and God repeats the promise anyway:
Yet it is moving to know God's goodness to Abraham's seed according to flesh. When the mother gave in to despair and laid her son down to die at a distance from her, "God heard the lad's voice"; and His angel tells Hagar to hold him in her hand. Had not Jehovah called his name Ishmael, because He had heard her affliction? Even if she forgot God's promise of a countless multitude to spring from her, and that Ishmael would live in the presence of all his brothers, God remembered him and declares that He will make him a great nation. So it has been.
One writer reads the scene as a picture of a larger story: the son of the slave woman put outside, yet kept alive:
Hagar and Ishmael as wanderers in the wilderness, with the water gone, may picture the present position of Israel. Israel sought to gain the blessing under law, and so rejected Christ, the promised seed. The earthly people of God are cast out of their land and have become wanderers in the world. Yet, as cast out of the land, Israel is still the object of God's providential care, even as God provided for Hagar and her son.
God did not make a new well. What changed was her sight, and one writer turns that into a warning for people today:
Is there not a parable for today in this? Ishmael was dying of thirst within a stone's throw of the life-giving water. There are many today going down to spiritual death with the means of spiritual life right in front of them. The trouble is that they have no eyes to see it. God opened her eyes, and at once the need was met.
- Emptied — God's help came when Hagar had reached the end of her efforts and the end of herself. The empty bottle was the doorway, not the disaster.
- Heard — the cry that moved heaven was the boy's, and his name already said it: "Heard of God."
- Held — "hold him fast" means steady him so he does not fall. God Himself keeps every believer standing the same way.
- Remembered — Hagar forgot the promise. God repeated it without being asked, and has kept it ever since.
- Opened — the well was there the whole time. People die of thirst beside the supply until God opens their eyes.
And God opened her eyes, and she saw a well of water; and she went and filled the flask with water, and gave the lad drink.
Hagar and her son have been cast out, and their water is gone in the desert. She has walked away from a boy she expects to die.
God's answer is not a new supply of water but a new ability to see. One writer notes what that means: the well never had to be made.
The deliverance came in a simple yet unexpected way. God opened Hagar's eyes so that she saw a well of water. It was there all the time but she had not had eyes to discern it.
Her eyes open only after everything she carried has failed. One writer ties that moment of sight to the end of everything she had.
Hagar got no supply from God until she was worn out and footsore, with an empty water-bottle. She had laid her child under a shrub in the desert and gone away, so that she would not watch him die, and so that she too might die. She had not only come to the end of her efforts, but to the end of herself as well.
Hagar does not find the well by searching harder. One writer likens her blindness to people who die of thirst with the message of life close by.
How often people are dying of spiritual thirst because the legality of their own thoughts blinds them! They do not see that God's source of true refreshment is near them: "The word is near you, in your mouth and in your heart … if you confess with your mouth that Jesus is Lord and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved" (Romans 10:8-9). But people's eyes are not opened to this naturally: this work must be done by God's sovereign operation.
Hagar is not shown praying or seeking God. What she receives comes from His side, and it reaches beyond that afternoon.
In personal history Hagar is an example of the dealings of divine grace with a helpless and despairing sinner… She is dying of thirst, yet there is a well of springing water at her side. She does not seem to remember God nor seek Him, but He sends His angel with the gracious question, "What troubles you, Hagar? Arise." She is blind to the means of salvation, until God opened her eyes and she saw a well of water. God not only saves her from suffering and death; He also gives her (in her son) future possessions and blessings, and directions for her own conduct.
Years earlier Hagar had met God at a well named after Him. One writer sets that well beside this one.
The mother gave way to despair and laid her son down to die at a distance from her. Then "God heard the voice of the boy", and His angel tells Hagar to hold him up with her hand… She had once been by a fountain called Beer-lahai-roi, the Well of the Living One who was seen (or, who sees me). The name came from the name of Him who spoke to her (Gen. 16). In the same way, God now opened her eyes to see a well of water, and she gave the boy a drink.
One writer reads the scene beyond Hagar herself. Cast out and thirsty beside a well she cannot see, she pictures a nation whose blessing is sure but still unseen.
Cast out, they wander in the wilderness of Beersheba, and are nearly dying of thirst. This I take to be the present condition of Israel. The water, the word of life, is spent for them, and they do not see the well. Yet the oath of God, the covenant with their fathers, secures it for them to possess at last. To this, therefore, their eyes shall yet be opened.
The empty skin gets filled at the well. One writer presses that choice on the reader.
Are we depending on the bottle, perhaps trying to squeeze a few drops from its dryness? Hear the Word of the living God, "To the thirsty I will give from the spring of the water of life without payment." Discard the bottle and rejoice in the fountain. The bottle may even be some favourite preacher, or some religious service. It may be right in its place, but it is not the fountain. It will run dry and disappoint. The fountain is inexhaustible, it is Christ.
- Empty bottle. Her water ran out before God gave her sight; she came to the end of her efforts and to the end of herself.
- Present well. God made nothing new — the water had been beside her the whole time, unseen.
- Opened eyes. God gave sight by His own sovereign work, not as a reward for searching; she is not even shown asking.
- Given grace. God rescues her, and gives more: blessing for her son, and direction for her own conduct.
- Lasting spring. Every bottle runs dry — a preacher, a service, anything we lean on. The fountain is Christ. Israel's eyes, too, God will yet open to their own well.
And God was with the lad, and he grew; and he dwelt in the wilderness, and became an archer.
Commentary for this verse has not been generated yet.
And he dwelt in the wilderness of Paran. And his mother took him a wife out of the land of Egypt.
Genesis closes its account of Hagar's son with two quiet facts: a place he settled in, and a marriage arranged by his mother. Both are small. Yet they sum up a whole life lived outside the line of promise — and not outside God's care.
This is a real place, and it keeps returning in Israel's story.
The wilderness on the south of Canaan and west of Edom. Ishmael lived here. It also held Kadesh, where the Israelites camped when they sent out the twelve spies, and again near the end of their wanderings. David also at one time took shelter in this wilderness.
Bellett traces what became of Ishmael once the supplies ran out — and where his own taste then pulled him.
At first he is all but dead. The provision he left Abraham's house with is all spent, and he is cast entirely upon God. But under His provision he grows up and thrives, as a man of the wilderness. There he lives and works, and the earlier prophecies about him came true. But in the bent and taste of his mind he returns, as far as he can, to his mother's native land. She gets him an Egyptian wife.
Commentators read the marriage as the final line in a consistent picture.
As the slave mother was an Egyptian, so the wife she took for her son was out of the land of Egypt: law, flesh, and world go together.
Grant gives the reason Egypt stands where it does.
Hagar, an Egyptian herself, chose a wife from the land of Egypt for Ishmael, because the law's closest relationship is with the world, symbolized by Egypt.
Grant sets Ishmael's desert trade against the settled life of the son of promise.
He grew up living in the wilderness and became an archer. He seems to have earned his living by selling the meat of the animals he hunted. This was in contrast to Isaac, who owned flocks and herds. As a type of Christ, Isaac had a shepherd character. Ishmael's archer character fits better with his picturing the law, which keeps firing its arrows to cause damage.
Where he settled carries its own lesson, and Grant applies it to readers today.
They spread over some area to the south of Israel — "the wilderness of Paran." Ishmael was the son of a slave woman. So he pictures those under the bondage of law, wild and rebellious. Living in the desert, he reminds us that the law is not a fruitful way of living. It is barren and produces no fruit for God. Yet he has many descendants, and this is true spiritually today also. Many prefer the bondage of law to the liberty of the pure grace of God.
Being cast out and being abandoned are not the same thing.
Ishmael, like Israel after the flesh, cannot take the inheritance by law, but is cast out, though preserved by God.
Bellett carries the same pattern forward to the Jewish people.
A full end has been made of other nations, but not of Israel, and never will be. For so the promise runs: outcast that people are, but not destroyed. It is true that they have gone back as far as they could to the flesh they had come out of by profession. In principle they have returned to Egypt, or found kinship with the ways of an uncircumcised world. But there they are to this day, kept by the present hand of God for the coming purposes of God.
- Cast out. The slave woman's son could not inherit beside the son of promise. He was sent away. But God did not throw him away.
- Kept. His supplies ran out and he was near death. He lived only because God provided — outcast, but not destroyed.
- Wilderness. Paran is barren ground south of Canaan. Desert life pictures the law, which grows no fruit for God. The archer's bow stands opposite Isaac's shepherd character.
- Egypt. His mother chose his wife from her own country. With her came the stamp of the world: law, flesh, and world travel together.
- Nation. Ishmael's line grew large. But numbers are not the same as God's promised inheritance. Many still choose the bondage of law over the liberty of grace.
And it came to pass at that time that Abimelech, and Phichol the captain of his host, spoke to Abraham, saying, God is with thee in all that thou doest.
A Philistine king and his army commander travel out to meet Abraham, not to threaten him but to ask for a treaty. Their opening words are a confession about Abraham's God. Commentators point to the timing: it comes right after the events of this chapter.
The chapter opens with Isaac born and Hagar and Ishmael sent away. Commentators tie his words to what had just happened in Abraham's home.
In the closing scene of the chapter the man of the world admits that God is with the man of faith who walks in separation from the world. There was a time when the man of faith slipped. He acted in unbelief, and Abimelech rebuked him. Now the promised heir has come. Abraham has given him his rightful place and has cast out the slave woman and her son. What is of God is given the highest place, and everything that is of the flesh has been refused. The result is that Abimelech has to admit, "God is with you in all that you do."
The change inside the household showed on the outside.
Sending away the Egyptian slave woman and her mocking son had put the household in right order, and the child of promise was left without a rival. But that was not all. An outward event follows, and it matters so much that the Holy Spirit gives it a lasting place here. The clear blessing that followed drew the Gentile's heart. So the Philistine comes with full formality — his commander-in-chief came with him — and asks Abraham for a friendship bound by a promise.
This is the same Abimelech who, one chapter earlier, had to correct Abraham for lying about Sarah. The two chapters belong side by side.
In Genesis 20 and 21 we have another contrast. First we see the believer walking in such a way that the world rebukes him (20). Then we see him walking in such a way that the world has to admit that God is with him in all that he does (Gen. 21:22).
The roles have swapped.
Now we see the Gentile king again. He once filled Abraham with guilty fear and became the occasion of a shameful trap. This time he not only asks a favour of the father of the faithful; he is himself reproved. The power of the world admitted that God was with Abraham, and asks for a covenant between them.
Commentators do not treat the king as a convert. He is stating what he saw, and what he asks for next protects himself.
This is clearly the same Abimelech of Genesis 20. He comes with his chief captain to tell Abraham that they had seen God with him in all that he did (v. 22). Abraham had grown so rich that he could be a threat to the Philistines if he ever turned to war. So Abimelech wants the protection of an oath from Abraham: a promise that Abraham will not deal falsely with him, his son, or his grandson.
Abimelech was no believer, yet he read Abraham's life right. Commentators turn that on the reader.
If Christ has His true place in our lives, if we refuse the flesh, and if by faith we walk in true separation from the world, the result will follow. The very world will see and admit that God is with us.
Several commentators see a preview here of how the nations will one day relate to God's people. They link Abimelech's words to Zechariah 8:23.
This is a great change from one age to the next. Israel is the head now, and not the tail. The nations now take hold of the Jew's robe, because the Jew has by faith taken hold of the Lord, and the nations say, God is with you. Gen. 21:22; Zech. 8:23.
Kelly carries the picture forward to the Messiah.
So it will be in days to come, when the promises are fulfilled in the Messiah; and to that extent Isaac is a picture of Him. Then Gentile kings will be Zion's nursing fathers, and queens her nursing mothers (Isaiah 49).
- Order first. Abimelech speaks "at that time" — after Abraham gives Isaac his place and sends the slave woman's son away. What is of God held the highest place before any outsider said a word.
- Then testimony. The household set right produced a life the Philistines could read. The world admitted God was with Abraham because there was something to see.
- Reversal. The king who rebuked Abraham in chapter 20 now asks him for an oath — and is himself reproved.
- Not conversion. Abimelech's motive was security, not faith. He wanted a treaty covering his son and grandson from a neighbour who had grown strong.
- Reach. Commentators see the future here. The nations will take hold of God's people and say what Abimelech said: God is with you (Zechariah 8:23).
And now swear to me here by God that thou wilt not deal deceitfully with me, nor with my son, nor with my grandson. According to the kindness that I have done to thee, thou shalt do to me, and to the land in which thou sojournest.
Abimelech comes with the commander of his army. He asks Abraham to swear an oath: never to deal falsely with him or with his family after him. He points back to the kindness he had already shown. Why does a Philistine king want a binding promise from a man he once had to correct? And why now?
This is not a warm gesture. The oath covers three generations. Older wording reads "his son... his grandson" where the ESV has "my descendants... my posterity". Abraham's wealth had grown, and that made him a possible danger.
This is clearly the same Abimelech as in Genesis 20. He comes with his chief captain to tell Abraham that they had seen God was with him in all that he did (v. 22). Abraham's riches had grown so much that he could be a threat to the Philistines if he ever turned to war. So Abimelech wants the protection of an oath from Abraham: that he will not deal falsely with him, with his son, or with his grandson. He reminds Abraham that he himself had shown kindness to him, which was true (v. 23).
At their earlier meeting Abraham was the one at fault, and this king corrected him. Since then the promised son has been born and given his place. The slave woman and her son have been sent away. The standing between the two men is now reversed.
In the closing scene of the chapter the man of the world admits that God is with the man of faith who walks apart from the world. There was a time when the man of faith slipped, acted in unbelief, and came under Abimelech's rebuke. Now the promised heir has come, and Abraham has given him his rightful place. The slave woman and her son have been sent away. What is of God is treated as supreme, and everything of the flesh is refused... Instead of rebuking Abraham, as he did in earlier days, Abimelech is now rebuked by Abraham.
The same writer adds that it is no different today.
Abraham had a real complaint. Abimelech's servants had taken a well from him. Notice when he brings it up.
Abraham had no hesitation in telling Abimelech that he would indeed swear by God to this effect. It is good to see that he gave this promise first, before telling him about a well of water that Abimelech's servants had seized (v. 25). So the matter is faced properly, while the relationship is still friendly.
Abimelech also asks for kindness toward the land itself, where Abraham lived as a stranger. Their oath gave the place its name.
Abraham then called the place "Beersheba" — "well of the oath," because he and Abimelech both swore an oath to each other. It was clearly an agreement of peace: neither would trespass on the other's rights... But it pictures the peace that will come in the millennium.
Another writer sees the oath as a turning point in how Abraham stands toward the world:
And here, further, Abraham no longer fears the prince of this world; he rebukes him. Now that the heir has come, he has the world as well as fellowship with heaven, and the world admits that God is with him in all things. So the well of the oath is the witness of Abraham's title in the world.
One writer sees the king's approach as a picture of something still to come: the nations seeking out the people God has blessed.
The clear blessing that followed drew the Gentile's heart. With full formality — the commander-in-chief came with him — the Philistine asks for Abraham's pledged friendship. So it will be in days to come, when the promises are fulfilled in the Messiah... then ten men out of all the languages of the nations will take hold of the robe of a Jew and say, "We will go with you, for we have heard that God is with you" (Zech. 8).
Abraham does not turn the request away.
- Cause. The heir came, and the flesh was put out. Only then did the man of the world come asking. Blessing others can see follows when God has His place.
- Fear. Abimelech asks for safety for himself, his son, and his grandson. Abraham's wealth could have become a threat.
- Order. Abraham promises first and complains second. He faces the wrong over the well while the relationship is still warm.
- Title. Their oath names the place Beersheba, "well of the oath." It marks Abraham's recognised standing in a land that was not his own.
- Result. The scene previews the day when the nations take hold of God's people and say, "we have heard that God is with you." They are not turned away.
And Abraham said, I will swear.
Commentary for this verse has not been generated yet.
And Abraham reproved Abimelech because of a well of water that Abimelech's servants had violently taken away.
Genesis 21 ends with a treaty scene. A Philistine king comes to Abraham and asks for a sworn peace. In the middle of that friendly talk, Abraham raises a complaint about a well the king's men had seized. Why had he said nothing until now? And why was a well worth a complaint at all?
Abraham had never raised the injury before. One writer reads that silence as deliberate — the mark of a man who knew his moment:
Genesis 21 shows this in a striking way. He also knew when to suffer wrong and when to resent it. He knew when to be passive and when to assert his rights. Now the Gentile seeks him, and he reproves Abimelech for a well of water that Abimelech's servants had seized. But he had not complained of this injury until now... Until now Abraham had suffered, and taken it patiently. He did so because until now he had been a heavenly stranger on the earth. Such patient suffering in such a man is acceptable with God. But now times are changed.
Abraham also gives his word before he raises the problem:
Abraham had no hesitation in telling Abimelech that he would indeed swear by God to this effect. It is good to see that he first gave this promise before telling him of a well of water that Abimelech's servants had seized (v. 25). So the matter is rightly faced, while the relationship remains cordial. Abimelech assures him that he personally had no knowledge of this.
The king had once made Abraham afraid. Here the roles are exchanged:
The Gentile king once filled Abraham with guilty fear and became the occasion of a shameful snare. Now that same king not only seeks favour from the father of the faithful; he is himself reproved. The power of the world acknowledged that God was with Abraham, and asks for a covenant between them... Earthly righteousness is now asserted, as before we saw heavenly patience.
The same hostility shows up a generation later, and it targets the same thing:
What marked the Philistines in the days of Abraham and Isaac was their striving to deprive God's servants of the water He had provided for them. Abraham had to reprove "Abimelech about a well of water that Abimelech's servants had seized" (Gen. 21:25). And when Isaac lived in Gerar, he found that "the Philistines had stopped and filled with earth all the wells that his father's servants had dug" (Gen. 26:15).
Who are these Philistines, and why does a well matter so much?
The Philistines stand for people who are outwardly on divine ground, but who have no faith. Their fixed purpose is to deprive God's people of these sources of spiritual refreshment. A pool or a cistern only holds water. A living spring feeds a well and keeps it fresh, so it is a store of refreshment we can draw from at all times. The ministry of Christ by the Spirit is needed to keep us fresh and strong in spirit. The Spirit Himself is the source of the never-failing spring. If we want to enjoy the well without hindrance, we must honour Christ alone. We must give no place to Ishmael, the man after the flesh... The presence of God with Abraham, and the grace He displayed, result in Abraham's title to the well being established.
Abraham does not only reprove. Grace goes with the reproof, and one writer makes that the pattern for us:
The world may have to admit that God is with His people who walk in separation. Even so, it will still seek to deprive the people of God of their means of spiritual refreshment. It will seek to stop our wells. Like Abraham, we may well resist the world's efforts and reprove the world. But, like Abraham, let us mix the spirit of grace into our reproofs. That grace seeks to give the world something of our blessing, as pictured by the seven ewe lambs.
One writer sees the scene as a preview of a coming order:
A witness of the change that is to come on the largest scale is given here by Abraham's reproving Abimelech. Only now does he speak of the wrong done by Abimelech's servants, who had violently taken possession of a well Abraham had dug. And Abimelech bows meekly. Righteousness will reign in that day, and princes shall rule in judgement.
- Water. The fight is over a well: a living spring, not a stored supply. That is why losing it mattered enough to interrupt a peace treaty.
- Theft. The world keeps trying to take that source away. It seized Abraham's wells, then stopped up Isaac's.
- Timing. Abraham bore the wrong in silence while he lived as a stranger. He speaks only when his place changes, and only after he has given his word.
- Reversal. The king who once made Abraham afraid is now the one reproved, and he bows to it.
- Grace. Abraham mixes grace into his reproof. God's presence and grace settle his title to the well, and the seven ewe lambs hand the world something of his blessing.
And Abimelech said, I do not know who has done this, neither hast thou told me [of it], neither have I heard [of it] but to-day.
Abimelech answers Abraham's complaint about the seized well by pleading ignorance. He did not know, no one told him, and he heard of it only that day. His reply raises a question: why had Abraham said nothing until now?
Abimelech's words tell us something about Abraham. If the king first heard of the theft that day, Abraham had borne the wrong in silence for a long time. One writer sees wisdom in that: Abraham knew his seasons.
He also knew when to suffer wrong and when to resent it, when to be passive and when to assert his rights. Now, in this chapter, the Gentile seeks him. So he reproves Abimelech for a well of water that Abimelech's servants had seized. But he had not complained of this injury until now. Abimelech said to him, "you did not tell me, and I have not heard of it until today." And this is very beautiful. Until now Abraham had suffered and borne it patiently, because until now he had been a heavenly stranger on the earth. Such patient suffering in such a person is acceptable to God. But now, times are changed.
Abraham raises the complaint only after he has agreed to swear. One writer notes what that order does for the relationship:
Abraham had no hesitation in telling Abimelech that he would indeed swear by God to this effect. It is good to see that he gave this promise first. Only then did he tell him of a well of water that Abimelech's servants had seized (v. 25). So he faces the matter in the right way, while the relationship stays warm. Abimelech assures him that he himself knew nothing about it.
Earlier in Abraham's story, this same king had reason to rebuke him. Now the king takes correction instead. One writer links the change to what happened at the start of the chapter:
In the closing scene of the chapter the man of the world owns that God is with the man of faith who walks in separation from the world. There was a time when the man of faith slipped, and acting in unbelief, came under the reproof of Abimelech. Now the promised heir has come. Abraham has given him his rightful place, and the slave woman and her son have been sent away. What is of God holds the highest place, and all that is of the flesh has been refused. So Abimelech has to acknowledge, "God is with you in all that you do." Instead of reproving Abraham, as in former days, he now takes reproof from Abraham. Nor is it otherwise today.
The thing in dispute is water in a dry land. One writer notes what the Philistines do with a well — and what they have to admit here:
Fighting over the wells is typical of the Philistines. They do not dig them; they block them with earth. Yet here they are made to own at last that God is with the man of faith, and that the well he digs is all his own.
Applied to the reader, the well stands for what refreshes the soul, and the answer to its loss is neither silence nor bitterness:
Still, the world may have to admit that God is with His people who walk in separation. Even so, it will try to take from them their means of spiritual refreshment. It will seek to stop our wells. Like Abraham, we may well resist the world's efforts and reprove the world. But, like Abraham, let us mix our reproofs with the spirit of grace — a grace that wants to give the world something of our own blessing, pictured by the seven ewe lambs.
One writer reads the scene as a picture of a coming age. The moment Abraham speaks of the theft points forward:
Abraham's reproof of Abimelech is a witness of the change that will come on the largest scale. Only now does he speak of the wrong done by Abimelech's servants, who had seized a well that Abraham had dug. And Abimelech bows meekly. Righteousness will reign in that day, and princes shall rule in judgment.
- Silence — "you did not tell me" shows that Abraham had carried the wrong without complaint. Such patient suffering, in a stranger on the earth, is acceptable to God.
- Speech — Abraham names the wrong only when the season changes, and only after he promises the oath. So he faces it while the relationship stays warm.
- Reversal — the king who once corrected Abraham now takes correction. The change follows the moment when what is of God took first place and the flesh was refused.
- Grace — resist the world when it stops our wells, but mix the reproof with the giving spirit of the seven ewe lambs.
- Glory — a Gentile ruler bows to the man of faith. That sketches the day when righteousness reigns and princes rule in justice.
And Abraham took sheep and oxen, and gave them to Abimelech; and both of them made a covenant.
Genesis 21 ends with a scene most readers pass over. A local king who once had to rebuke Abraham now comes asking for a treaty. Abraham seals it by handing over sheep and oxen. Why does the man of faith hand over the gift, when the king is the one asking a favour?
The gift seems to run the wrong way. The answer lies in the previous chapter.
You might think it would have been more fitting the other way around — Abimelech giving the sheep and oxen to Abraham, not Abraham to Abimelech. But Abraham is showing that his covenant is genuine. This reminds us too that in Genesis 20:14 it was Abimelech who gave Abraham sheep, oxen and servants, at a time when Abraham was the one to blame. Now it is Abraham's turn!
Something has changed since chapter 20. The change is not in Abimelech but in Abraham's position. Abraham has given Isaac, the promised son, his rightful place, and has sent Hagar and Ishmael away.
In the closing scene of the chapter the man of the world admits that God is with the man of faith who walks in separation from the world. There was a time when the man of faith slipped. He acted in unbelief, and Abimelech reproved him. Now the promised heir has come, and Abraham has given him his rightful place. The slave woman and her son have been cast out. What is of God is held as supreme, and everything of the flesh refused. So Abimelech has to acknowledge, "God is with you in all that you do." In former days Abimelech reproved Abraham; now Abraham reproves him. It is no different today.
Abraham reproves Abimelech and gives to him in the same meeting. Both belong together when a believer meets the world.
Still, the world may have to admit that God is with His people who keep separate from it. Even so, it will try to take away their means of spiritual refreshment. It will seek to stop our wells. Like Abraham, we may well resist the world's efforts and reprove it. But, like Abraham, let us mix into our reproofs the spirit of grace that seeks to give the world something of our blessing — pictured by the seven ewe lambs.
The covenant does more than end a quarrel. It gives Abraham a standing in the land where he had been only a guest. That is the weight carried by the well of the oath.
Abraham no longer fears the prince of this world; he reproves him. Now that the heir has come, he has the world as well as heavenly fellowship. The world admits that God is with him in all things. So the well of the oath is the witness of Abraham's title in the world, and of Abimelech's admission that God is with him. There, on the strength of the oath and of his title now recognised by the world, he plants a grove, takes possession of the earth, and worships, calling on the name of the everlasting God.
The covenant also points forward. A foreign king comes to terms with the family of promise, and that hints at a day when the nations are blessed through the same line.
Abraham does not push the Gentiles away at all. The promised Seed has been received and honoured, and that leads to a new state of things for the earth. Abraham gives his consent to the king, and makes a covenant, sworn on oath and sealed with other solemn acts. In that Seed the nations are to be blessed. Abraham's reproof of Abimelech is a witness of the change that is to come on the largest scale. Only now does he speak of the wrong done by Abimelech's servants, who had seized by force a well that Abraham had dug. And Abimelech bows meekly.
The name of the place keeps the agreement on record. Its terms bound both men, not just one.
Abraham then called the place "Beersheba" — "well of the oath." Both he and Abimelech gave their oath to one another. It was clearly a covenant of peace, in which neither would trespass on the other's rights… But it is a picture of the peace that God will establish in the millennium.
- Cause — Abraham gives Isaac his place and sends the slave woman's son away. What is of God is honoured; what is of the flesh is refused. That is why the scene changes.
- Recognition — The man of the world admits that God is with the man of faith. The king who once rebuked Abraham is now rebuked by him.
- Gift — Abraham repays the sheep and oxen he once received when he was the one in the wrong. The gift shows his covenant is genuine.
- Balance — Reprove the world when it stops your wells. Mix the reproof with grace that gives the world something of your own blessing.
- Result — The well of the oath becomes Abraham's title in the land. It seals a peace where neither side trespasses on the other — a small picture of the peace still to come.
And Abraham set seven ewe-lambs of the flock by themselves.
Abraham has just sworn peace with Abimelech, king of the Philistines. In the middle of that agreement he separates seven female lambs from the rest of the flock. The move is strange enough that Abimelech asks what it means. The answer turns a private oath into a public, legal record.
The lambs are not a random gift. What Abraham wants from Abimelech is not thanks but a signature.
Abraham set seven ewe lambs apart from the other animals (v. 28). He explained to Abimelech that they were a witness that Abraham had dug the well (v. 30). So by accepting them, Abimelech would publicly admit that this was true. Abraham then called the place "Beersheba" — "well of the oath." Both he and Abimelech gave their oath to one another, clearly a covenant of peace that neither would trespass on the other's rights.
There was a real dispute behind this. Abimelech's servants had seized a well Abraham had dug. Abraham raised the matter, but only after giving his word of peace.
It is good to see that he first gave this promise. Only then did he tell Abimelech about a well of water that Abimelech's servants had seized by force (v. 25). So the matter is faced as it should be, while the relationship stays friendly.
Notice who is correcting whom this time.
The great change is then foreshadowed. Once it was Abimelech who rightly reproved Abraham. Now Abraham reproved the Gentile king. And the king, with the commander of his army, admits that God is with Abraham in all that he does.
The generosity is also Abraham's way of proving he means what he swore.
It may seem that the gifts of sheep and oxen should have gone the other way round, from Abimelech to Abraham. However, Abraham is showing that his covenant is genuine. It reminds us too of Genesis 20:14. There it was Abimelech who gave Abraham sheep, oxen and servants, at a time when Abraham was the one at fault. Now it is Abraham's turn!
Abraham does two things at once here: he confronts a wrong and he gives a present. Writers see in that mix a pattern for believers living in a world that takes from them.
Still, the world may have to admit that God is with His people who walk in separation. Even so, it will try to rob the people of God of their means of spiritual refreshment. It will seek to stop our wells. Like Abraham, we may well resist the world's efforts and reprove the world. But, like Abraham, let us mix with our reproofs the spirit of grace — a grace that wants to give the world something of our blessing, pictured by the seven ewe lambs.
Another writer links the lambs to gentleness toward those who have been hostile, and notes the result:
The seven ewe lambs might suggest a spirit ready to yield, and a spirit of grace towards those who have been hostile… The presence of God with Abraham, and the grace displayed by Him, gave Abraham a settled title to the well.
The place name carries both the oath and the number seven.
So we come to "Beersheba," "the well of the oath," or "of the seven." Seven was the number of lambs that secured to Abraham the well he had dug. In the same way, God's promise secures the well of water to the delivered believer. It rests on the perfection of what Christ is for God. All the fullness of the Spirit belongs to him, and yet he still needs diligence, as the well implies. A well is not a free-flowing spring. It pictures the recognised need to keep access open to these living waters.
The scene closes with a tree planted and God called on as the Everlasting God. One writer reads the whole settlement as a picture of a peace still to come.
It is a picture of the peace that God will establish in the millennium. In keeping with this, Abraham planted a tamarisk tree there (an evergreen). He also "called upon the name of the Lord, the Everlasting God." It pictures a true, lasting peace that only the everlasting God can establish, and we know it is still future.
Kelly reads Abraham's standing at this point the same way, as a change of position rather than merely a treaty: "He is in type no longer the pilgrim, but the head of the nations and heir of the world."
- Wrong — Abimelech's servants had seized Abraham's well by force. Abraham raised it, but only after pledging peace.
- Witness — the seven lambs are evidence, not a bribe. Accepting them meant publicly admitting the well was Abraham's.
- Grace — reproof and gift go together. Abraham corrects the world and still shares his blessing with it.
- Title — the result is a secured well and a secured name: Beersheba, the well of the oath, or of the seven.
- Peace — the covenant, the tree and the name "the Everlasting God" picture a lasting peace that is still future.
And Abimelech said to Abraham, What [mean] these seven ewe-lambs, these which thou hast set by themselves?
Abraham has just challenged Abimelech, king of the Philistines, over a well that Abimelech's servants had seized. Now he sets seven ewe lambs apart from the flock he is handing over, and Abimelech asks why.
The lambs are not just part of the gift. By taking them, Abimelech accepts what they stand for.
Abraham set seven ewe lambs apart from the other animals (v. 28). He explained to Abimelech that they were a witness that Abraham had dug the well (v. 30). So by taking them, Abimelech would be publicly admitting that this was true. Abraham then called the place "Beersheba" — "well of the oath," because he and Abimelech both gave their oath to one another. This was clearly an agreement of peace: neither would trespass on the other's rights.
Notice who pays whom. Abraham lost the well, yet he is the one handing over livestock.
At first it seems odd for Abraham to give sheep and oxen to Abimelech here. It would look more fitting the other way around. However, Abraham is showing the genuineness of his covenant. This reminds us too that in Genesis 20:14 Abimelech gave Abraham sheep, oxen and servants — at a time when Abraham was the one to blame. Now it is Abraham's turn!
The dispute was about water. One writer reads these wells as a picture of spiritual supply, and the attacks on them as no accident.
Abimelech's servants had violently taken away a well of water that Abraham had dug. It is worth noting that the hostility of the Philistines towards Abraham and Isaac shows itself over their wells. The Philistines stand for people who claim to be on God's ground, but who have no faith. Their fixed aim is to rob God's people of these sources of spiritual refreshment. Unlike a pool or a water tank, a well is fed by a living spring that keeps it fresh. It is a store of refreshment we can draw from at any time… The seven ewe lambs may suggest a spirit of giving way, and of grace towards those who have been hostile… God's presence with Abraham, and the grace displayed by Him, established Abraham's right to the well.
Abraham did two things at once. He rebuked Abimelech, and he gave him lambs.
Still, the world may have to admit that God is with His people who walk in separation. Even so, it will try to take away their means of spiritual refreshment. It will try to stop our wells. Like Abraham, we may rightly resist the world's efforts and rebuke the world. But, like Abraham, let us mix grace into our rebukes — a grace that wants to give the world something of our own blessing, pictured by the seven ewe lambs.
One writer takes both the name of the place and the lambs as pointing beyond the deal itself.
First, Beersheba, the "well of the oath." It speaks clearly to us of the Spirit of God. He is ours, secured and justified for us by the value of Christ in His perfection as the sacrificial Victim — the seven lambs.
Up to now Abraham has lived in the land as a stranger. The named well marks a change, and one writer reads it as a preview of the coming Kingdom.
The Well-of-the-Oath is the name Abraham gives as the permanent sign of the covenant made then and there. As a picture, it is a complete change from being a stranger to being an owner, as it will truly be in the days of the coming Kingdom… Only here do we meet the striking change — one that only inspiration can explain — to "God everlasting." For so it will be when the displayed Kingdom comes in power and glory. Fallen and fading things will then give place to permanence and peace and blessing.
Commentators differ in emphasis. Some take the episode mainly as a lesson about holding on to spiritual supply. Others take it mainly as a picture of the coming age of peace.
- Witness. Abraham set seven lambs apart to speak for him. Taking them meant Abimelech admitted in public that the well was Abraham's.
- Gift. Abraham paid, though he was the wronged man. That proved his covenant was genuine, and it repaid a kindness Abimelech once showed him.
- Well. What he defended was a spring of living refreshment — just what the world keeps trying to take away.
- Grace. Abraham rebuked and gave in the same breath. Resist the loss, but share the blessing with those who were hostile.
- Rest. The disputed spot becomes Beersheba, "well of the oath." The stranger becomes an owner, and God is known here as "God everlasting."
And he said, That thou take the seven ewe-lambs of my hand, that they may be a witness to me that I have dug this well.
Abraham hands over seven ewe lambs not as payment but as proof that he dug the well himself. The gift settles a dispute with a king whose servants had seized the water, and turns a quarrel into a covenant.
The point of separating seven animals from the rest of the flock was to create a public record. If Abimelech took them, he admitted the claim they carried.
Abraham set seven ewe lambs apart from the other animals (v. 28) and explained this to Abimelech as being a witness that Abraham had dug the well (v. 30). Of course Abimelech's receiving them would therefore be a public acknowledgment that this was true. Abraham then called the place "Beersheba" — "well of the oath," because he and Abimelech gave their oath to one another.
Abraham did not shrug off the loss. The men who took the well were the same men who kept going after the wells of the faithful.
We then find that Abimelech's servants had seized by force a well of water which Abraham had dug. (It is worth noting that the hostility of the Philistines towards Abraham and Isaac shows itself over their wells.) The Philistines picture people who claim to stand on divine ground, but who have no faith. Their fixed purpose is to deprive the saints of these sources of spiritual refreshment. Unlike a pool or a cistern, a well has a living spring feeding it and keeping it fresh. It is a store of refreshment we can draw from at all times.
Abraham corrects Abimelech and gives him a gift in the same conversation. The same mix belongs to God's people when the world goes after their wells:
Still, the world may have to admit that God is with His people who walk in separation. Even so, it will try to deprive the people of God of their means of spiritual refreshment. It will seek to stop our wells. Like Abraham, we may well resist the world's efforts and reprove the world. But, like Abraham, let us mix into our reproofs the spirit of grace. That grace seeks to give the world something of our blessing, as pictured by the seven ewe lambs.
The same generosity is heard in the number itself. Seven lambs handed over suggests a willingness to bend rather than to fight:
The seven ewe lambs might suggest the spirit of yieldingness and of grace towards those who have been hostile.
These two men had met before, and their roles have now switched.
after
In the closing scene of the chapter the man of the world admits that God is with the man of faith who walks in separation from the world. There was a time when the man of faith slipped, and acting in unbelief, came under Abimelech's reproof. Now the promised heir has come, and Abraham has given him his rightful place, and the slave woman and her son have been sent away. What is of God holds the supreme place, and all that is of the flesh has been refused. So Abimelech has to acknowledge, "God is with you in all that you do." Instead of reproving Abraham, as in former days, he is now the one Abraham reproves.
Abimelech reached that conclusion by watching. The same watching still goes on:
Abimelech and his chief captain had plainly been watching Abraham very closely, and this was the conclusion they had come to. Let this incident remind us that thoughtful people in the world do watch the professed saints of God very closely. We may well hope that the conclusion they draw is as favourable as it was here.
The witness Abraham asked for held. The well became his, and the place where he had been a temporary guest became a place with his name on it.
The Well-of-the-Oath is the name Abraham gives as the permanent sign of the covenant made then and there. It pictures a total change from being a stranger to holding possession, as it will actually be in the days of the coming Kingdom.
After the covenant comes worship. The name Abraham uses for God matches the promise now kept:
So they drew up a covenant, and it made the well, Beersheba, sure to Abraham. In later days that well became famous as the southern boundary of the land. There Abraham made his home for some years, and there he called on the Lord as the everlasting God. When God gave the promise of Isaac, He made Himself known as the Almighty. Now the promised heir is born and the promise is fulfilled. So Abraham recognises Him to be the Everlasting as well as the Almighty.
- Witness. The seven lambs are proof, not payment. When Abimelech takes them, he publicly admits the well is Abraham's.
- Well. A living spring keeps a well fresh, so you can draw from it at any time. That is why it is worth digging and defending.
- Grace. Abraham reproves and gives in the same moment; the lambs are the generous side of a firm claim.
- Watched. Abimelech reached his verdict by watching how Abraham lived. The world still forms its conclusions the same way.
- Everlasting. The dispute ends with a secured well and a settled name. Abraham then calls on God as the Everlasting, not only the Almighty.
Therefore he called that place Beer-sheba, because there they had sworn, both of them.
Abraham's dealings with king Abimelech end at a well, with an oath and a name. Why should a well and a spoken word be worth recording, and what does the name keep saying?
The name carries its own explanation. It points back to what the two men had just done at the well.
Abraham set seven ewe lambs apart from the other animals (v. 28) and explained this to Abimelech as being a witness that Abraham had dug the well (v. 30). By accepting them, Abimelech would publicly admit that this was true. Abraham then called the place "Beersheba" — "well of the oath" — because he and Abimelech both swore an oath to one another. It looks like a covenant of peace: neither man would trespass on the other's rights.
The name outlived both men.
This name means "well of the oath." It was given to the place where Abraham and Abimelech made a covenant not to harm each other, and confirmed it with an oath. Later it became the home of Abraham and of Isaac, who also dug a well there... Once the land was settled, it was known as the most southern point of the land Israel held, just as Dan was known as the most northern. So "from Dan to Beersheba" meant the whole territory, even in Solomon's day.
The name can also mean "well of the seven." One writer counts the lambs as the price that made the water Abraham's own.
So we come to "Beersheba," "the well of the oath," or "of the seven" — the number of lambs that secured to Abraham the well he had dug. In the same way, God's promise secures the well of water to the delivered believer, and that promise rests on the perfection of what Christ is for God. All the fullness of the Spirit belongs to him. Yet he still needs diligence, as a well implies. A well is not a free-flowing spring — that picture fits at other times — but a well he must keep open, so that he can reach these living waters.
The oath settles the dispute. Then Abraham calls God by a title he had never used before.
So a covenant was drawn up, and the well, Beersheba, became securely Abraham's. There for some years Abraham made his dwelling, and there he called on the Lord as the everlasting God. When God promised Isaac, He made Himself known as the Almighty. Now the promised heir is born and the promise fulfilled, so Abraham knows Him as the Everlasting as well as the Almighty... But to God as the Everlasting One, time is not of prime importance.
Abimelech once had grounds to rebuke Abraham. By the time of this oath, that has turned around.
In the closing scene of the chapter the man of the world admits that God is with the man of faith who walks apart from the world. There was a time when the man of faith slipped, acted in unbelief, and was rebuked by Abimelech... Now Abimelech has to admit, "God is with you in all that you do." Once he rebuked Abraham; now Abraham rebukes him.
The same writer turns the scene into a warning, and into a way of answering the world.
Still, the world may have to admit that God is with His people who walk apart from it. Even so, it will try to rob God's people of what refreshes them spiritually. It will try to stop our wells. Like Abraham, we may well resist the world and rebuke it. But, like Abraham, let us mix grace with our rebukes — the grace that wants to give the world something of our own blessing, pictured by the seven ewe lambs.
Isaac later gives the place the same name. One writer looks past both treaties to something firmer.
These two covenants (between Abraham and Abimelech and Isaac and Abimelech) were the occasion of the well receiving its name, but it is symbolical of the far greater covenant that God made with Abraham and confirmed to Isaac.
Abimelech is a Gentile — a king outside Abraham's family — and one writer reads his request forward, to a day still to come.
In short, the Gentile king wants the support and protection of Abraham... So it is clear that here we see the heir of the world brought in as a picture... In that day the Gentiles will seek the protection of the faithful; in that day the Lord will show Himself the God of ages, the One who guards and blesses the true Heir.
- Oath — the name means "well of the oath." Both men swore there, in a covenant of peace that neither would trespass on the other's rights.
- Seven — the seven ewe lambs were public proof that Abraham had dug the well, and the name can also be read "well of the seven."
- Secured — the well was made sure to Abraham, and God's promise makes the believer's well of water just as sure.
- Everlasting — at that same place Abraham first called God the everlasting God, who is never hurried by time.
- Greater oath — writers see this human oath as a small picture of God's own covenant, and of a day when the nations seek the protection of the faithful.
And they made a covenant at Beer-sheba. And Abimelech rose up, and Phichol the captain of his host, and returned into the land of the Philistines.
Genesis 21 ends with a treaty, not a battle. The Philistine king and his army commander go home, leaving Abraham with a disputed well, a sworn peace, and a question: why did the world's power come looking for him at all?
Abimelech had been watching Abraham for a long time, and what he saw brought him out to ask for terms:
He was a man of discernment. He saw that God was with Abraham in everything he did, even though Abraham's conduct in Gerar had not been right. When our first meeting with a man is bad, it takes discernment to see him later in a good light. Abimelech and his chief captain had clearly been watching Abraham very closely, and this was the conclusion they reached. Let this remind us that thoughtful people in the world watch those who profess to be God's people very closely. We may well hope that the conclusion they draw is as favourable as it was here.
Earlier this same king was the one giving the rebuke. Now the roles are reversed:
Now we see the Gentile king who once filled Abraham with guilty fear and was the cause of a shameful trap. He not only seeks the favour of the father of the faithful; he is himself reproved. The power of the world admitted that God was with Abraham, and it asks for a covenant between them.
The name of the place records the oath, and the lambs settled who had dug the well:
Abraham set seven ewe lambs apart from the other animals and explained to Abimelech that they were a witness that Abraham had dug the well. Abimelech's acceptance of them was therefore a public admission that this was true. Abraham then called the place "Beersheba" — "well of the oath," because both he and Abimelech gave their oath to one another. It was clearly a covenant of peace: neither would interfere with the other's rights. But it is a picture of the peace that will be set up in the millennium.
Admiration is not the whole story. One writer turns Abraham's wells into a warning:
The world may have to admit that God is with His people who walk apart from it. Even so, it will try to take away from God's people the things that refresh them spiritually. It will try to stop up our wells. Like Abraham, we may well resist what the world does and rebuke it. But like Abraham, let us mix into our rebukes the spirit of grace that wants to give the world something of our own blessing, pictured by the seven ewe lambs.
What once caused the quarrel now proves their peace:
In Genesis 21 we see the Father of Israel and the Gentiles together for a moment. Their fellowship was a sample of the holy, happy dealings of Israel and the nations in the coming days of the kingdom. The questions that once divided and troubled them are now all settled. The well of water that had caused the quarrel is now a witness to the oath, or covenant. Every pure and kindly affection marks this fellowship of Abraham and Abimelech, and they part as sworn friends.
Abimelech goes home. Abraham stays at the well, and he has a new name for God:
So they drew up a covenant, and the well, Beersheba, was secured to Abraham. In later days it became famous as the southern border of the land… When God gave the promise of Isaac, He made Himself known as the Almighty. Now that the promised heir is born and the promise kept, Abraham knows Him as the Everlasting as well as the Almighty. Abraham had to wait for the promise to be fulfilled. Man lives only a few years, so waiting is very trying to the flesh. But to God, the Everlasting One, time is not of first importance.
Notice the order of the two admissions:
We have seen that the world has to acknowledge that God is with him; now we see that Abraham is with God. He calls on the name of the Lord, the everlasting God, and he lives as a pilgrim in the land.
- Watched — thoughtful people outside the faith study believers closely. Abimelech watched a long time and concluded that God was with Abraham, despite his earlier failure in Gerar.
- Reversed — the king who once rebuked Abraham now seeks his friendship and is rebuked himself. The world's power asks for a covenant.
- Secured — Beersheba means "well of the oath." The seven lambs were Abimelech's public admission that Abraham had dug the well.
- Gracious — the world will try to stop the wells that refresh God's people. Resist it and rebuke it, but mix in the grace that gives something away, as the ewe lambs did.
- Everlasting — Abimelech went home. Abraham stayed, called on the everlasting God, and lived as a pilgrim in the land — a sample of Israel and the nations at peace in the coming kingdom.
And [Abraham] planted a tamarisk in Beer-sheba, and called there on the name of Jehovah, the Eternal God.
Genesis 21 ends quietly. Abraham makes a treaty with Abimelech, a neighbouring king, secures a well, plants a tree at Beersheba, and worships. The small act carries a large meaning. So does the name he uses for God here — a name not used before.
The Hebrew word behind "tamarisk" is eshel, and the tree Abraham planted was a memorial.
eshel means a tamarisk, or perhaps any large tree. Abraham planted a memorial tree in Beersheba, and called there on the name of the LORD. Gen. 21:33.
One writer, a farmer himself, reads the act the way any farmer would:
In chapter 15:18 God tells Abraham that he will have this land. Then at the end of chapter 21 something very special happens — Abraham plants a tree. As a farmer I know what that means. When a farmer plants a tree, he is saying, "this land belongs to me." So, as a picture, he takes possession of this land. God will give this land to Israel. Go back to chapter 15:18 and you see that God made a covenant with Abraham, and it is because of this covenant that He gives him this land.
Abraham has known God under other titles. The title he uses now fits the moment he has reached — the promised son has arrived.
When God gave the promise of Isaac, He made Himself known as the Almighty. Now that the promised heir is born and the promise kept, Abraham knows Him as the Everlasting as well as the Almighty. Abraham had to wait for the promise to come true. Man lives only a few short years, so waiting is very hard on the flesh. But to God, the Everlasting One, time is not the main thing. He moves with steady, sure steps to accomplish what He has purposed and promised.
Another writer links the title to the land itself:
In chapter 21 we see Abraham planting a tree — a boundary marker of the land, I suppose. There we hear of "the everlasting God," because God was there, the One who secures the land for ever to His people. The LORD is the everlasting God, and when He gives a promise, He is sure to make it good in the end.
Until now a tent and an altar have marked Abraham's life. Here the pattern changes:
Abraham gives the name Well of the Oath as the lasting sign of the covenant made there and then. As a picture it is a complete change from being a stranger to holding possession, as it will really be in the days of the coming Kingdom. We hear of no tent now, though Abraham's calling on the name of the LORD implies a fresh altar here… Here alone comes the striking change, which only inspiration can explain, to "God everlasting." So it will be when the Kingdom is displayed in power and glory. Things that fall and fade will then give place to permanence, peace and blessing.
Several writers read the closing scene — treaty, well, tree, worship — as a preview of what is coming. The foreign king now comes asking Abraham for terms:
In short, the foreign king asks for the goodwill and protection of Abraham, who, as we are told here, "planted a tamarisk tree in Beersheba and called there on the name of the LORD, the Everlasting God." Clearly, then, we are shown here in a figure the heir of the world. Deeper relations are not yet in view; even so, it is the heir not merely of the land of Palestine but of the world who comes before us here. So the LORD is presented in a character not named before, the everlasting God (El-olam)… Then the nations will seek the protection of the faithful; then the LORD will show Himself the God of ages, the guardian and blesser of the true Heir.
The kind of tree matters to the picture:
Abraham called the place "Beersheba" — "well of the oath" — because he and Abimelech both swore an oath to each other, clearly a covenant of peace… In keeping with this, Abraham planted a tamarisk tree there (an evergreen) and "called there on the name of the LORD, the Everlasting God." It pictures a true, lasting peace that only the everlasting God can establish, and we know it is still future.
These writers offer the scene as a picture, not as a claim about what Abraham himself had in mind.
- Promise — God made a covenant with Abraham long before, giving him this land. Everything at Beersheba rests on it.
- Possession — planting a tree is the act of a man who intends to stay: a quiet claim on ground God had already given.
- Permanence — the new title, the Everlasting God, answers the long wait. Time is not the main thing to Him; He moves with sure steps to what He has promised.
- Peace — the well of the oath, the treaty with a foreign king, and the evergreen tree picture a rest that is still future.
- Prospect — Abraham stands here as heir of the world, not only a wanderer. The nations seek his favour. It is a preview of the Kingdom the everlasting God will bring in.
And Abraham sojourned in the Philistines' land many days.
Genesis 21 ends with an oath sworn at Beersheba, a well secured, a tree planted, and Abraham settled in Philistine country for a long stay. Commentators read that closing line as more than a travel note. Is Abraham still a stranger here, or has he begun to hold the land as its heir?
The stay follows a covenant with the ruling power of that country. One writer sees Abraham given a standing in the world here, marked by the well, the grove he plants, and the name he worships by.
Here Abraham no longer fears the prince of this world, but rebukes him. Now that the heir has come, he has the world as well as heavenly communion. The world admits that God is with him in everything. So the well of the oath witnesses to Abraham's title in the world, and to Abimelech's admission that God is with him. There, by the oath and by his title now owned by the world, he plants a grove, takes possession of the earth, and worships. He calls on the name of the everlasting God — of Him who once promised to Israel, never abandoned His purpose, and had now done on earth what His mouth had spoken.
At Beersheba Abraham calls God "the Everlasting God." The name fits the moment. The son long promised had come, and the long wait itself taught Abraham who God is.
When the promise of Isaac was given, God made Himself known as the Almighty. Now the promised heir is born and the promise made good. So Abraham recognises Him as the Everlasting as well as the Almighty. Abraham had to wait for God to keep the promise. Man lives only a few years, so such waiting is very trying to the flesh. But to God as the Everlasting One, time is not of first importance. He moves with steady, certain steps to do what He has purposed and promised.
Several writers see the long, peaceful stay as a preview of a settled earth. Two details point that way: no tent is mentioned now, and the name Abraham worships by is new.
The Well-of-the-Oath is the name Abraham gives as the permanent sign of the covenant made then and there. In picture it is a complete change from being a stranger to owning the land, as it will truly be in the days of the coming Kingdom. Nor do we hear of a tent now, though Abraham's calling on the name of Jehovah implies a fresh altar here... Here alone comes the striking change to "God everlasting," which only inspiration can account for. So it will be when the Kingdom is displayed in power and glory. Fading, failing things will then give way to permanence, peace and blessing.
Another writer reads the same promise in the tree Abraham planted.
Abraham planted a tamarisk tree there — an evergreen — and called on the name of the Lord, the Everlasting God. It pictures a true, lasting peace. Only the everlasting God will establish that peace, and we know it is still future. But Abraham was welcome then to sojourn in the Philistines' land for many days.
The verse calls it a sojourn, a stay without settling, and yet it lasted many days. Commentators differ over what that says about Abraham. One sees his wandering days as over.
He is in type no longer the pilgrim, but the head of the nations and heir of the world.
Another keeps both sides and calls these verses the high point of Abraham's spiritual life.
The closing verses seem to present the climax of Abraham's spiritual history. We have seen that the world has to acknowledge that God is with him; now we see that Abraham is with God. He calls on the name of the Lord, the everlasting God, and he lives as a pilgrim in the land.
One writer applies the scene to us. A world that admits God is with His people will still work against them.
The world may have to admit that God is with His people who walk in separation. Even so, it will still try to take away their means of spiritual refreshment. It will seek to stop our wells. Like Abraham, we may well resist the world's efforts and rebuke the world. But, like Abraham, let us mix the spirit of grace into our rebukes. That grace seeks to give the world something of our blessing, pictured by the seven ewe lambs.
- Promise kept. The heir God promised is born, and Abraham's long wait ends.
- Fear gone. Abraham no longer fears the world's ruler; he rebukes him, and the world admits that God is with him.
- New name. With the promise kept, Abraham worships the Everlasting God, the One for whom long delay is no obstacle.
- Long stay. The tree, the well and the years in Philistine country picture a lasting peace that only the everlasting God will bring.
- Wells guarded. Commentators differ on whether Abraham is still a pilgrim here. Either way, a world that admits God is with you will still try to stop your wells.