Incapable of resisting the combined assaults of jealousy, rage, and revenge, the poor foreigner is driven from the roof of Abraham. She fled into the wilderness with the view of returning to her native country, but was suddenly arrested in her flight by an angelic messenger, who admonished her to return to her mistress, and pacify her by ready and unconditional submission. He also predicted the character and habits of her future offspring, mentioning the name by which he was to be called, and consoling her in this season of tribulation by an assurance that "the Lord had heard her affliction." She instantly retracted her steps; and, as no intimation is given to the contrary, we may infer that the fugitive was restored to her situation in the family. She was humble, and Sarah conciliated: and as we hear nothing of her for some years, they probably lived in tolerable harmony. It was a merciful interposition to send her back to the family of Abraham; for a connexion with the people of God, whatever may be their faults, is far more desirable than the richest inheritance, or the noblest alliance, where religion is discarded or unknown.
[Sidenote: Years before Christ 1898]
As the birth of the Egyptian's son was attended by no divine congratulations, Abraham is still permitted to pass thirteen years more in a state of suspense respecting the promised child; when at the age of ninety-nine, the covenant is renewed by another revelation. On this remarkable occasion his wife received the name by which we have uniformly called her, Abraham being distinctly assured of her predestined privilege as the mother of the promised seed. A similar change of name was conferred upon the patriarch. Hitherto he had been called Abram, a "high," or "eminent father;" now he is to be Abraham, "the father of a great multitude." His beloved wife, who had been called Sarai, "my princess," was in future to be distinguished by the name of Sarah, "a princess," denoting a more extensive honour. If he were to become the Father, she was to be the Mother, of "many nations."
Having already witnessed the misconduct of Abraham's wife on two memorable occasions, it would be highly gratifying to hear, in the next circumstance of her history, that she acted worthy of her connexion with so illustrious a husband, But alas! we are still necessitated to derive instruction rather from a record of her faults than of her excellencies. We must expect to witness a variety of these in every human character, combined only with comparatively a small number of shining graces. Indeed we find, in general, but one very distinguishing good quality associated with those of a different complexion; and if the plant of grace spring up and grow in the human character, it is usually in a thicket of inferior principles and unholy propensities. While, therefore, engaged in the cultivation of our hearts, in "keeping them with all diligence," as the wise king of Israel expresses it; one very important duty we owe to ourselves is to watch the appearance of these irregularities, and aim, by unremitting attention, united with fervent prayer, to eradicate them from the moral soil. In Sarah we see as great a luxuriance of evil as can be imagined to blend with real piety, without essentially deteriorating it.
Sitting one day at the door of his tent to enjoy the refreshing shade, [[8]] Abraham observed three strangers approaching, whom he hastened to meet, that he might offer them any temporary accommodation in his power. This act of hospitality was conformable to the usage of the country; but the peculiar generosity of Abraham seems indicated in his running to meet them. The invitation is immediately accepted; and the good old man, with the most obliging readiness, offered water to wash their feet, and bread to satisfy their hunger. He hastened to Sarah, directing her to make some cakes of fine meal, and bake them on the hearth; and then went himself to the herd to choose a tender calf, which he immediately proceeded to dress. Butter and milk, the produce of their own pasture, were of course supplied. The venerable patriarch then took his respectful standing under the branches of a neighbouring tree, which afforded a pleasant screen from the sultry sun. What exquisite simplicity is discernible here! what a subject for the painter! what a theme for the poet! what an example for the good! Three heavenly messengers at the humble table of one of the greatest men that ever inhabited this world--a patriarch--a prince--the father of the faithful--the friend of God--venerable for age--distinguished by his hospitality--still more eminent for faith!--their canopy the overarching sky--their shelter, the wide-spreading tree--flocks and herds grazing around, the indications of an industry which Providence had blessed with remarkable success--and the plain of Mamre spreading its luxuriance before their eyes!--
But we must hasten to the remarkable subject of their conversation. At present the patriarch did not suspect the real character of his visiters; who introduced their intended communication by asking, "Where is Sarah thy wife?" This must have excited great surprise; for how could strangers know the affairs of his family, and the particular name of his wife, which had been so recently changed? He informed them, however, that she was in the tent, where, according to the prevailing custom of the times, she had her separate table. One of the angels, immediately personating Jehovah himself, if he were not, as appears probable, the very "Angel of the Covenant," gave this solemn assurance: "I will certainly return unto thee according to the time of life; and, lo, Sarah thy wife shall have a son!" Sarah, whom curiosity had brought to the door of the tent to listen to what passed, overhearing this assurance, and looking upon it as an impossible occurrence at her time of life, laughed in derision. She had long come to the conclusion that she should produce no son to Abraham, and, therefore, that all such expectations were chimerical and ridiculous. This excessive incredulity--excessive, because a distinct assurance of the fact had been already given to Abraham upon the occasion of their change of names--was highly culpable; but while we denounce it with merited severity, let us examine our own hearts. Have we never acted in a similar manner? Have we never distrusted the providence of God or his promises? Who can plead exemption from a spirit of unbelief? What surmises have agitated our bosoms, when the events of life contradicted our expectations? What despondency have we shown, and what distrust, when the movements Omniscience were incomprehensible to our reason, and opposed to our apparent interest? If but one part only of the divine proceedings seemed incongruous, we have dared to arraign "the whole stupendous plan;" if but "a momentary cloud" arose upon our prospect, we have begun to fancy that order was at an end, that the sun had for ever disappeared, that God had "forgotten to be gracious, and in anger shut up his tender mercies." Let us then aim to correct these irregularities of feeling, and to dismiss these misinterpretations of providence.
Sarah imagined that her contemptuous incredulity was only known to herself: but the heavenly visiter instantly detected it, and appealed to Abraham on its impropriety. Possibly the reason of addressing Abraham, rather than calling the culprit herself to an account, was to inflict the severer reproof. Ah! how vainly do we strive to conceal the secret thoughts of the mind from the knowledge of God! His eyes, which run to and fro through the earth, penetrate through every disguise, and perfectly discern every inward motion as well as every outward action. We live every moment--in the darkest midnight as well as at the brightest noon--in the full blaze of Omniscience. "O Lord, thou hast searched me and known me: thou knowest my down-sitting and mine up-rising; thou understandest my thoughts afar off."
Incapable of enduring this exposure, the criminal now rushes from her concealment, and boldly calls out, "I laughed not." This was a direct falsehood, dictated by apprehension; and it was confronted by the instant retort of him who knew her heart: "Nay, but thou didst laugh." It is possible that Sarah had some mental reservation, when she so flatly denied the assertion of the angel: she might persuade herself that she did not absolutely laugh, but only smiled, or felt contempt; but whatever mode she might have adopted to explain away her conscious guilt, it was unavailable, as every such unworthy subterfuge must always prove.
We cannot help remarking the danger of the least deviation from the path of rectitude. One sin prepares the way for the commission of another; one step over the edge and boundary of uprightness may lead us down a precipice, and plunge us into a fatal series of crimes. We have already seen an exemplification of this remark; and it is more strikingly illustrated in the present transaction. Curiosity brought her to the door, where she was soon betrayed into unbelief: detection soon produced a fear of censure; this dread produced a ridiculous attempt at concealment and self-justification; and the pride of her heart issued in exciting her to a deliberate falsehood. Notwithstanding her incredulity, however, Sarah shall bear a son, to be the spring of innumerable blessings to her posterity. Thus infinite goodness overrules the perverseness of his people, as well as the wrath of sinners, ultimately to promote his own designs.
If, on this occasion, the daring transgressor had been smitten to the earth by an instantaneous judgment, it must have been regarded as a proper expression of the divine displeasure. Her repeated provocations merited the severest chastisement, and would undoubtedly have justified such a proceeding. The thoughts of Jehovah, however, are not as our thoughts, nor his ways as our ways. There is nothing vindictive in the character of the blessed God; and if he have on certain occasions launched the thunderbolt upon the guilty heads of sinners, the circumstances have shown that the atrocity of their iniquities has required a signal visitation. How far punishment of this nature may be necessary in any particular case, it is not for beings limited in their views as we are to decide, but simply to rely on the wisdom of him, who, with a due intermixture of severity and mercy, justice and grace, conducts the affairs of the universe.