Two Women, One Husband, and The Plan That Backfired Spectacularly
Let me tell you about Sarah and Hagar, two women caught in one of the most dysfunctional family situations in the Bible, and whose story somehow explains everything about impatience, control, blame-shifting, and why trying to force solutions to your problems always—ALWAYS—makes things worse.
Sarah is the barren wife. Promised descendants like the stars. Married to Abraham, who’s been told he’ll father a great nation. One problem: Sarah can’t have children. And she’s getting older. And the promise seems impossible. And she’s tired of waiting.
So Sarah comes up with a plan: “Take my servant Hagar and sleep with her. Maybe I can build a family through her.”
Hagar is the Egyptian servant. She has no say in this plan. She’s property, essentially. She’s told to sleep with her mistress’s husband to provide an heir.
Abraham agrees immediately. No prayer. No “let me check with God.” Just “okay, if you say so.”
Hagar gets pregnant. Hagar starts despising Sarah. Sarah blames Abraham. Abraham says “she’s your servant, do whatever you want.” Sarah mistreats Hagar. Hagar runs away. An angel sends her back. She has Ishmael. Thirteen years pass. Sarah finally has Isaac. Sarah demands Hagar and Ishmael be sent away. Abraham is distressed but complies. Hagar and Ishmael wander in the desert almost dying before God provides.
It’s a MESS. A complete disaster. A case study in what happens when you:
- Try to force God’s promise through human effort
- Use people as means to your ends
- Blame everyone except yourself
- Let impatience drive your decisions
- Create solutions that generate more problems than they solve
And somehow, this story about two women, one husband, one terrible plan, and decades of consequences teaches us everything about addiction recovery.
Because recovery is full of Sarahs—people who are tired of waiting, who want to force solutions, who try to control outcomes, who blame others when their plans backfire.
And recovery is full of Hagars—people who are used by others, who suffer consequences of decisions they didn’t make, who are sent away when they become inconvenient, who wander in deserts almost dying.
And recovery is DEFINITELY full of Abrahams—people who passively go along with terrible plans, who abdicate responsibility, who say “do whatever you want” instead of actually leading.
So buckle up, because we’re about to explore how a 4,000-year-old story about surrogate pregnancy gone wrong can teach us everything about impatience, control, consequences, blame, and why your backup plan is probably creating problems your original plan never would have.
“The Lord Has Kept Me From Having Children” (When You Blame God for Your Circumstances)
Let’s start with Sarah’s statement, because it’s loaded:
“The Lord has kept me from having children.”
This is Sarah’s interpretation of her barrenness. Not “I’m unable to have children.” Not “I haven’t conceived yet.” But “The LORD has KEPT me from having children.”
Active. Intentional. God is preventing this.
Now, is Sarah wrong? Technically no. God is sovereign. In the ancient world, pregnancy and barrenness were understood as coming from God’s hand. The text itself later says “the Lord had closed her womb.”
But Sarah’s framing reveals something: she sees God as the obstacle, not the solution.
“The Lord has kept me from having children” is a statement of blame, not trust. It’s accusation, not faith. It’s “God is withholding from me” not “God is working on a different timeline than mine.”
In recovery, this is:
- “God won’t take away my addiction”
- “God is keeping me from healing”
- “God won’t give me what I need to get better”
- “God is the reason I’m still struggling”
It reframes God as the problem instead of the source of solution. It makes God the withholder instead of the provider.
And when you see God as the one keeping you from what you want, you stop waiting for God to provide it. You start figuring out how to get it yourself.
Which is exactly what Sarah does.
“So she said to Abram, ‘The Lord has kept me from having children. Go, sleep with my slave; perhaps I can build a family through her.'”
Notice the logic: “God won’t give me children, so I’ll make it happen myself. God has closed my womb, so I’ll use someone else’s womb. God won’t work through me, so I’ll work around God.”
This is the control impulse. The impatience. The “I’ll force this solution myself” energy.
Sarah has been promised descendants. God told Abraham “I will make you into a great nation.” But it’s been ten years since they arrived in Canaan. Sarah is getting older. Nothing is happening.
So Sarah decides to help God keep His promise.
And this is where EVERYTHING goes wrong.
Because when you see God as the obstacle instead of the provider, when you frame Him as the one keeping you from what you need instead of the one working on your behalf, you will absolutely try to force solutions yourself.
You’ll “help God” by:
- Managing your recovery your way instead of working the program
- Controlling the outcome instead of surrendering the process
- Using people to get what you want instead of waiting for provision
- Creating elaborate schemes instead of trusting the promise
- Building your own solutions instead of receiving God’s
Sarah says “perhaps I can build a family through her.”
I. Can. Build.
Not “God can build.” Not “God will provide.” But “I can build. Through my effort. Through my plan. Through using this person to get what I want.”
Lesson one: When you see God as the obstacle instead of the provider, you’ll try to force solutions yourself. And forcing solutions always creates more problems than it solves.
The Plan (When You Use People to Get What You Want)
Let’s be very clear about what Sarah’s plan involves:
She’s asking her husband to sleep with her servant to produce an heir that Sarah will claim as her own.
In that culture, this was legally acceptable. Children born to a servant on behalf of the mistress were considered the mistress’s children. This was a recognized practice for dealing with barrenness.
But legal doesn’t mean healthy. Culturally acceptable doesn’t mean right. Common practice doesn’t mean wise.
Sarah is using Hagar as a tool. As a means to an end. As a womb-for-hire without Hagar’s consent or consideration of Hagar’s humanity.
Hagar is Egyptian. She’s likely one of the servants Pharaoh gave to Abraham when Abraham lied and said Sarah was his sister (yes, that happened—Abraham pimped out his wife to save himself, and Pharaoh gave him servants as bride-price, and one of those servants was probably Hagar).
So Hagar is already a victim of Abraham and Sarah’s dysfunction. She was acquired through their lies. Now she’s being used to fix their impatience.
Hagar has no voice in this story. She’s not asked. She’s not consulted. She’s told: “Sleep with my husband.”
And she has to comply. She’s a servant. She’s property. She has no choice.
This is using people. This is treating humans as means rather than ends. This is “I need something from you, so I’ll use you to get it, regardless of how it affects you.”
In recovery, this looks like:
- Using your sponsor as your therapist, your parent, your emotional support person, your crisis manager—taking and never giving
- Using meetings as social connection but never actually working the program
- Using people’s stories to make yourself feel better about your own situation
- Using family members’ guilt to manipulate them into giving you money, housing, chances
- Using other people’s sobriety to make yourself look good by association
- Using newcomers to feel superior about your own progress
You’re using people to get what you want. To meet your needs. To solve your problems. To make yourself feel better.
And you’re not considering their humanity. Their needs. Their consent. Their wellbeing.
Sarah uses Hagar to get an heir. She doesn’t consider how this will affect Hagar. She doesn’t think about the emotional complexity of asking a woman to bear your husband’s child. She doesn’t care about Hagar’s future or dignity or autonomy.
Hagar is a tool. A womb. A solution to Sarah’s problem.
And Abraham? “Abram agreed to what Sarai said.”
No objection. No “maybe we should pray about this.” No “this seems complicated.” No “what about Hagar?”
Just immediate agreement. Passive acceptance. Abdication of responsibility.
Abraham is the enabler in this story. The person who goes along with terrible plans because it’s easier than saying no. The person who abdicates leadership and then claims “you told me to” when it all falls apart.
In recovery, Abraham is:
- The family member who gives you money even though they know you’ll use it for substances
- The friend who goes along with your terrible plan because they don’t want to rock the boat
- The sponsor who never challenges you because confrontation is uncomfortable
- The partner who enables your dysfunction because they’re afraid of losing you
Sarah has a terrible plan. Abraham passively agrees. Hagar has no choice.
This is the setup for disaster.
Lesson two: Using people to solve your problems always creates more problems. And passive agreement to bad plans is just as destructive as making them.
“She Began to Despise Her Mistress” (When the Plan Backfires Immediately)
Hagar gets pregnant. And immediately, everything changes.
“When she knew she was pregnant, she began to despise her mistress.”
Let’s think about why.
Hagar was a barren woman’s servant. Her value was as property, as labor, as a tool. She was nobody.
Now she’s pregnant with the heir. With Abraham’s child. With the son who will inherit everything. She has something Sarah doesn’t have and can’t produce.
For the first time in her life, Hagar has power. Or at least the appearance of it.
She’s carrying the promised seed. She’s doing what Sarah can’t do. She’s succeeding where her mistress failed.
And she despises Sarah for it.
“Despise” is strong language. This isn’t just resentment. It’s contempt. Disdain. Looking down on.
Hagar starts treating Sarah with disrespect. The text doesn’t tell us exactly how, but Sarah notices. The power dynamic has shifted and Hagar is making sure Sarah knows it.
Here’s the thing: Hagar’s contempt is understandable. She was used. She was forced into this situation. She’s pregnant with a child she didn’t choose to conceive. She’s been treated as a tool, and now she has something her oppressor wants.
But her contempt doesn’t help her situation. It makes it worse.
Because Sarah—who created this mess in the first place—is NOT going to handle being despised well.
In recovery, this is what happens when:
- You get sober and start looking down on people who are still using
- You get some time in recovery and despise newcomers who are struggling
- You achieve something and treat others with contempt because they haven’t
- You gain knowledge and use it to make others feel inferior
- You experience healing and judge those who are still broken
Hagar went from victim to contemptuous. From powerless to scornful. From used to using her new position to hurt the person who hurt her.
And it’s understandable. And it’s still destructive.
Because contempt never heals. Despising never helps. Looking down on others never elevates you.
Hagar’s contempt toward Sarah doesn’t free her. It traps her in an even more complicated dynamic.
Lesson three: Being victimized doesn’t justify becoming contemptuous. Using your new position to despise others will backfire spectacularly.
Sarah’s Response (When You Blame Everyone But Yourself)
Sarah’s response to Hagar’s contempt is WILD:
“Then Sarai said to Abram, ‘You are responsible for the wrong I am suffering. I put my slave in your arms, and now that she knows she is pregnant, she despises me. May the Lord judge between you and me.'”
Let’s break down the layers of dysfunction in this statement:
“You are responsible for the wrong I am suffering.”
Sarah blames Abraham. Even though this was HER plan. HER idea. HER suggestion that Abraham sleep with Hagar.
But now that it’s backfired, it’s Abraham’s fault.
This is blame-shifting at its finest. “I came up with the plan, but you’re responsible for how it turned out.”
“I put my slave in your arms”
Sarah takes credit for the plan when framing it as Abraham’s fault. “I PUT my slave in YOUR arms.” I made this happen. And now you’re responsible for the consequences.
This is having it both ways. Taking credit for the action while blaming someone else for the results.
“Now that she knows she is pregnant, she despises me”
Notice what Sarah doesn’t say: “Now that I used her as a womb and she’s carrying your child and I created an impossible situation, she’s treating me badly.”
No acknowledgment of Sarah’s role in creating this dynamic. No recognition that using someone might make them resentful. No awareness that the plan itself was the problem.
Just: she despises me. As if this contempt appeared out of nowhere. As if Sarah is a complete victim here.
“May the Lord judge between you and me”
Sarah invokes God to settle the dispute. She wants God to declare who’s right. She’s so convinced of her own victimhood that she’s willing to bring God in as a referee.
This is the person in recovery who:
- Suggests you relapse together and then blames you when consequences come
- Comes up with a terrible plan and then blames everyone else when it fails
- Uses people and then plays victim when they’re resentful
- Creates chaos and then demands everyone acknowledge how they’ve been wronged
- Invokes God or the program or the sponsor to validate their version of events
Sarah created this situation. Sarah suggested Hagar sleep with Abraham. Sarah used Hagar as a tool.
And now Sarah is the victim. Now it’s everyone else’s fault. Now she wants God to judge between her and Abraham.
Zero accountability. Zero self-awareness. Just blame, deflection, and righteous indignation.
Lesson four: When your plan backfires, you’ll be tempted to blame everyone but yourself. Resist this. You created the situation. Take responsibility.
Abraham’s Response (The Passive Enabler Abdicates Again)
Abraham’s response to Sarah’s blame is even worse than her blame:
“Your slave is in your hands. Do with her whatever you think best.”
Let’s sit with how terrible this is.
Hagar is pregnant with Abraham’s child. His son. The heir he’s been waiting for. And Abraham just… gives her over to Sarah’s anger.
“She’s your slave. Do whatever you want with her.”
Complete abdication. Complete passivity. Complete refusal to take any responsibility.
Abraham is saying:
- “This isn’t my problem”
- “You deal with it”
- “I’m not getting involved”
- “She’s yours, not mine”
- “Do whatever you want, I don’t care”
Hagar is carrying HIS child. And he won’t protect her. He won’t advocate for her. He won’t take any responsibility for the situation.
He just hands her back to Sarah and says “do whatever you think best.”
This is the enabler in full effect. The person who:
- Goes along with terrible plans
- Refuses to take responsibility when they fail
- Won’t protect the vulnerable
- Abdicates leadership
- Says “do whatever you want” instead of actually making a decision
- Avoids conflict by throwing others under the bus
In recovery, this is:
- The family member who won’t set boundaries and then blames the addict for taking advantage
- The sponsor who won’t confront their sponsee’s obvious relapse
- The friend who lets you make terrible decisions because they don’t want to be “judgmental”
- The partner who enables dysfunction and then claims they’re just being supportive
Abraham is the passive party in Sarah’s plan. The silent agreement. The enabler who goes along and then refuses to deal with consequences.
And his passivity has devastating effects on Hagar.
Lesson five: Passive agreement to bad plans is still participation. And abdicating responsibility when things go wrong is cowardice, not neutrality.
“Sarai Mistreated Hagar” (When Victims Become Abusers)
After Abraham gives Sarah permission to “do whatever you think best” with Hagar, here’s what happens:
“Then Sarai mistreated Hagar; so she fled from her.”
The text doesn’t tell us exactly how Sarah mistreated Hagar. But it was bad enough that Hagar—pregnant, vulnerable, with no resources—fled into the desert.
Think about what it takes for a pregnant woman to run away into the wilderness. To leave the only security she has. To risk death in the desert rather than stay in her mistress’s household.
Sarah’s mistreatment must have been SEVERE.
Sarah, who was used by Abraham (he lied about her being his sister and let Pharaoh take her). Sarah, who was barren and suffering. Sarah, who was waiting for a promise and feeling like God was withholding.
Sarah, the victim in so many ways, becomes the abuser.
This is the cycle. Hurt people hurt people. Victims become victimizers. The oppressed become oppressors.
Sarah suffered. So she makes Hagar suffer. Sarah felt used. So she uses Hagar. Sarah felt powerless. So she exerts power over someone more vulnerable.
In recovery, this is:
- The person who was abused in childhood who becomes abusive in adulthood
- The addict who was abandoned who abandons their own children
- The person who was controlled who becomes controlling
- The victim of trauma who traumatizes others
- The person who was made to feel worthless who makes others feel worthless
Pain doesn’t excuse abuse. Suffering doesn’t justify mistreatment. Being victimized doesn’t give you permission to victimize others.
But it’s a pattern. A cycle. A replication of harm.
Sarah mistreats Hagar. Hagar flees. And now Hagar is in the desert, pregnant, alone, with no water, no food, no protection.
All because Sarah couldn’t wait for God’s timing. All because she tried to force a solution. All because she used a person to get what she wanted.
And when the plan backfired, instead of taking responsibility, she blamed everyone else and then abused the person who was already a victim of her scheme.
Lesson six: Victims can become victimizers. Your pain doesn’t excuse your abuse of others. Break the cycle, don’t perpetuate it.
The Angel Finds Hagar (God Sees the Unseen)
Hagar is in the desert. Alone. Pregnant. Running from abuse. Probably expecting to die.
And an angel finds her.
“The angel of the Lord found Hagar near a spring in the desert; it was the spring that is beside the road to Shur. And he said, ‘Hagar, slave of Sarai, where have you come from, and where are you going?'”
Notice: the angel calls her by NAME. “Hagar.”
This is the first time in the narrative that anyone has addressed Hagar directly. She’s been “the Egyptian servant,” “my slave,” “her.” Now: “Hagar.”
You have a name. You have identity. You are seen.
And the angel asks her questions:
- Where have you come from? (Your past)
- Where are you going? (Your future)
Diagnostic questions. Questions that require Hagar to assess her situation. To name her reality.
“I’m running away from my mistress Sarai,” she replies.
Honest. Direct. No pretense. She’s running. From abuse. From mistreatment. From an impossible situation.
And the angel says something shocking:
“Go back to your mistress and submit to her.”
Wait. WHAT?
Go BACK? To the woman who mistreated you? Submit to the person who abused you?
This seems terrible. This seems like the angel is telling Hagar to return to her abuser. To accept mistreatment. To endure harm.
But then the angel adds a promise:
“I will increase your descendants so much that they will be too numerous to count… You are now pregnant and you will give birth to a son. You shall name him Ishmael, for the Lord has heard of your misery.”
God has HEARD your misery. God SEES you. God knows what you’re suffering.
And God is giving YOU a promise. Not Sarah’s promise. Not Abraham’s promise. YOUR promise.
Your descendants will be numerous. Your son will live. Your future exists. Your line continues.
Then Hagar does something remarkable:
“She gave this name to the Lord who spoke to her: ‘You are the God who sees me,’ for she said, ‘I have now seen the One who sees me.'”
El Roi. The God who sees.
Hagar is the first person in the Bible to give God a name. And the name she gives is about being SEEN.
“You see me. When everyone else uses me, ignores me, dismisses me, abuses me—You see me. You know my name. You hear my misery. You give me a promise.”
This is the revelation that changes everything: God sees the unseen. God names the unnamed. God makes promises to the servant who was only supposed to be a tool.
In recovery, this is:
- The addict who everyone has written off whom God still sees
- The person who’s been used and abused whom God still values
- The one who’s running into the desert whom God still pursues
- The victim who has no voice whom God still hears
You are seen. You have a name. Your misery is heard. Your future exists.
But here’s the hard part: Hagar still has to go back.
Not because abuse is okay. Not because mistreatment should be endured. But because running into the desert isn’t survival—it’s death.
Hagar has to go back to survive. To give birth. To live until God provides another way out.
Sometimes you can’t immediately escape the toxic situation. Sometimes you have to survive in difficult circumstances while trusting that God sees you and is working.
Lesson seven: God sees you when no one else does. God makes promises to the unseen. But being seen doesn’t always mean immediate escape—sometimes it means surviving until the way out opens.
Ishmael Is Born (Living With Your Backup Plan for Thirteen Years)
Hagar goes back. She has Ishmael. Abraham is 86 years old.
And then… thirteen years pass.
Thirteen years of Sarah and Hagar living in the same household. Thirteen years of Abraham’s son Ishmael growing up. Thirteen years of this complicated, dysfunctional family dynamic continuing.
The text is silent about these thirteen years. We don’t know what life was like. We don’t know if Sarah and Hagar made peace or just coexisted in tension. We don’t know how Abraham related to his son.
We just know: thirteen years. The backup plan living alongside the couple still waiting for the promise.
This is living with consequences. This is the long middle between creating a problem and having it resolved. This is enduring complexity you created while waiting for what God intended.
In recovery, this is:
- Living with damaged relationships while working toward restoration
- Dealing with health consequences of addiction while rebuilding your life
- Raising children affected by your using while trying to be sober now
- Working through years of consequences from decisions made in moments
The backup plan doesn’t disappear just because you’re finally ready for God’s plan. Ishmael doesn’t vanish when Isaac arrives. The consequences continue even when the promise is fulfilled.
Sarah’s impatience created Ishmael. And Ishmael becomes part of the story forever. Thirteen years in the household. And then sent away. And even in being sent away, he’s still Abraham’s son, still part of the narrative, still a consequence that continues through generations.
Your backup plan has lasting effects. Your attempts to force solutions create complications that don’t disappear when God finally provides what He promised.
Lesson eight: Your backup plan doesn’t disappear when God’s plan arrives. You live with consequences for years, sometimes generations. Choose wisely at the beginning.
Isaac Arrives (When God’s Promise Finally Shows Up)
Abraham is 100. Sarah is 90. And Sarah gets pregnant.
“Now the Lord was gracious to Sarah as he had said, and the Lord did for Sarah what he had promised. Sarah became pregnant and bore a son to Abraham in his old age, at the very time God had promised him.”
At the VERY TIME God had promised. Not when Sarah tried to force it. Not through Hagar. Through Sarah. At God’s time.
Isaac is born. The impossible child. The son of the promise. The one they waited 25 years for.
And Sarah says: “God has brought me laughter, and everyone who hears about this will laugh with me.”
Laughter. Joy. The fulfillment of the promise.
But the promise arriving doesn’t erase the presence of the backup plan. Isaac is here. But so is Ishmael. The promised son and the son born from impatience are both in the same household.
And this creates an impossible situation.
Lesson nine: God’s promise will be fulfilled at the very time He said, not when you try to force it. But the promise arriving doesn’t erase the consequences of your backup plan.
“Get Rid of That Slave Woman and Her Son” (When Consequences Become Unbearable)
Isaac is weaned. There’s a celebration. And Sarah sees Ishmael mocking (or playing with—the Hebrew is ambiguous) Isaac.
And Sarah loses it.
“Get rid of that slave woman and her son, for that woman’s son will never share in the inheritance with my son Isaac.”
This is brutal. “Get RID of that slave woman.” Not “send Hagar away with provision.” Not “establish her in a household.” GET RID. Like trash. Like a problem to be eliminated.
“That slave woman.” Not Hagar. Not the mother of your son, Abraham. That slave woman.
“That woman’s son.” Not Ishmael. Not your firstborn, Abraham. That woman’s son.
Sarah is dehumanizing both of them. Erasing their names. Reducing them to problems to be eliminated.
And Abraham is distressed. “The matter distressed Abraham greatly because it concerned his son.”
Abraham loves Ishmael. Ishmael is his son. His firstborn. The boy he’s raised for fourteen years.
But God says: “Do not be so distressed about the boy and your slave woman. Listen to whatever Sarah tells you, because it is through Isaac that your offspring will be reckoned. I will make the son of the slave into a nation also, because he is your offspring.”
God validates Sarah’s demand. Not because Sarah is being righteous (she’s not). Not because dehumanizing Hagar and Ishmael is okay (it’s not). But because the promise has to be protected. Isaac is the heir. Ishmael cannot stay.
The backup plan has to go.
This is devastating. For Hagar, who is being cast out again. For Ishmael, who is being exiled from his father. For Abraham, who is losing his son.
The consequences of the backup plan are painful for everyone involved.
Lesson ten: Eventually, the backup plan has to go. And removing it is painful for everyone, even when it’s necessary.
Cast Out Into the Desert (When Your Consequences Almost Kill You)
Abraham gives Hagar some food and water and sends her away with Ishmael. Into the desert.
And the water runs out.
“When the water in the skin was gone, she put the boy under one of the bushes. Then she went off and sat down about a bowshot away, for she thought, ‘I cannot watch the boy die.’ And as she sat there, she began to sob.”
Hagar can’t watch Ishmael die. So she puts him under a bush and walks away far enough that she won’t have to see it. And she sobs.
This is the consequence of Sarah’s plan fully realized. Not just inconvenience. Not just discomfort. DEATH. Hagar and Ishmael are dying in the desert because Sarah couldn’t wait for God’s timing.
Hagar is back where she was years ago: in the desert, alone, expecting to die. But this time she has her teenage son with her. And he’s dying too.
The backup plan that was supposed to solve the problem is now creating casualties.
And then God intervenes. Again.
“God heard the boy crying, and the angel of God called to Hagar from heaven and said to her, ‘What is the matter, Hagar? Do not be afraid; God has heard the boy crying as he lies there. Lift the boy up and take him by the hand, for I will make him into a great nation.'”
God HEARS Ishmael. God SEES Hagar. Again. Still.
“Then God opened her eyes and she saw a well of water.”
The water was THERE. The whole time. But Hagar couldn’t see it. Her grief, her despair, her focus on death—it blinded her to the provision that was right there.
God opens her eyes. She sees the well. She fills the skin with water. She gives the boy a drink. They survive.
“God was with the boy as he grew up.”
God keeps His promise. Ishmael becomes a great nation. Not the heir of the promise, but still blessed. Still provided for. Still seen by God.
In recovery, this is:
- The consequence that almost kills you before provision arrives
- The moment you can’t see the water even though it’s there
- The grief and despair that blinds you to available help
- God opening your eyes to what’s been there all along
- Surviving the desert and discovering God was with you even there
Hagar and Ishmael survive. Not because they deserved it. Not because Sarah was good to them. But because God sees. God hears. God provides.
Lesson eleven: The consequences of your backup plan might almost kill you. But God sees, God hears, and God provides—even in the desert, even when you can’t see the water that’s right there.
What Sarah and Hagar Teach About Control
Let’s zoom out and look at what these two women—so different, yet both trapped in the same dysfunctional system—teach us about recovery:
Sarah teaches us about control:
Sarah wanted a child. God promised descendants. But Sarah couldn’t wait. Couldn’t trust. Couldn’t surrender control.
So she made a plan. Used Hagar. Forced a solution. Created Ishmael.
And the plan backfired immediately. Hagar despised her. Sarah blamed Abraham. The household became chaotic. Years passed in complication. Isaac arrived but Ishmael didn’t disappear. Eventually Sarah demanded they be cast out. Her impatience created casualties.
Control doesn’t work. Forcing solutions doesn’t work. Using people doesn’t work. Backup plans create more problems than they solve.
Sarah got what she wanted (a child) but not how she wanted it (through Hagar instead of herself). And getting it wrong created decades of dysfunction.
In recovery:
- You can’t control your healing timeline
- You can’t force people to forgive you
- You can’t manage outcomes through schemes
- You can’t use people to fix your problems
- Your backup plans will backfire
- Your attempts to help God keep His promise will create complications
Sarah needed to wait. To trust. To surrender control. To let God provide in His time, His way, through His method (through her own womb, miraculously, at age 90).
Instead, she took matters into her own hands. And it cost her decades of peace and created casualties she never intended.
Hagar teaches us about being used:
Hagar had no choice. She was used as a tool. Given to Abraham. Expected to provide an heir. Treated with contempt when she succeeded. Mistreated when the plan backfired. Cast out when she became inconvenient.
She was a victim at every stage. And yet she survived. She encountered God. She received promises. She was seen when no one else saw her.
In recovery, this is:
- Being used by your addiction to destroy your life
- Being used by toxic people to meet their needs
- Being treated as a means instead of an end
- Being cast out when you’re no longer useful
- Surviving despite being victimized
Hagar shows us:
- God sees the unseen
- God makes promises to the used and discarded
- God provides in the desert
- God hears the crying of those who have no voice
- Survival is possible even when you’re powerless
Hagar didn’t create this situation. She was forced into it. But she still had to live through the consequences. Still had to go back to Sarah. Still had to be cast out. Still had to survive the desert.
And God met her. Twice. In the desert. Both times.
El Roi. The God who sees.
Lesson twelve: Control creates casualties. Being used creates trauma. But God sees the unseen, provides in the desert, and keeps promises even to those the world throws away.
What They Would Tell You
If Sarah and Hagar could sit down and talk to you about recovery, I think the conversation would be tense, complicated, and brutally honest.
Sarah would say:
“I couldn’t wait. I was promised descendants and I was barren and I was getting older and it wasn’t happening and I got impatient.
So I came up with a plan. I used Hagar to get what I wanted. I forced a solution instead of trusting God’s timing.
And it backfired immediately. Hagar despised me. I blamed everyone else. I mistreated her. Years of dysfunction followed. When Isaac finally came, I had to send Hagar and Ishmael away, and it was devastating for everyone.
Here’s what I should tell you:
Don’t try to force solutions. I tried to help God keep His promise. I used a person to get what I wanted. I created Ishmael to solve my problem. And it created decades of complication.
Your backup plan will backfire. Your attempts to control outcomes will fail. Your schemes to force solutions will create casualties.
Wait. Trust. Surrender. Let God provide in His time, His way.
Don’t blame others when your plan fails. I blamed Abraham. I blamed Hagar. I invoked God as a referee. I refused to take responsibility for the plan I created.
When your schemes backfire—and they will—own it. Don’t blame your sponsor, your family, your circumstances. You created it. Take responsibility.
Don’t use people to meet your needs. I used Hagar as a womb. I didn’t consider her humanity, her feelings, her future. She was a tool to me.
Don’t use people in recovery. Don’t use your sponsor as your therapist. Don’t use newcomers to feel superior. Don’t use your family to meet needs they can’t meet. See people as humans, not tools.
Your impatience creates casualties. My plan to force God’s promise created Ishmael, who I eventually had to cast out. My impatience hurt Hagar. My control attempt hurt Abraham. My inability to wait hurt everyone.
Your impatience will hurt people. Your need for immediate solutions will create casualties. Slow down. Wait. Trust the process.
The promise will come, but not on your timeline. I waited 25 years for Isaac. Twenty-five years between promise and fulfillment. And when he came, it was at age 90, through a method I would never have chosen, in a way only God could orchestrate.
Your healing will come. But not when you demand it. God’s timeline isn’t yours. And His method won’t be what you’d choose. Trust it anyway.”
Hagar would interrupt:
“And while you’re learning from Sarah’s mistakes, learn from my pain:
Being used is not your fault. I didn’t choose this. I was forced to sleep with Abraham. I was forced to carry his child. I was forced to go back when I fled. I was forced out when I became inconvenient. None of this was my choice.
If you’ve been used—by addiction, by people, by systems—it’s not your fault. You didn’t choose to be exploited. You didn’t volunteer to be victimized.
But being victimized doesn’t mean you’re without value. Sarah saw me as a tool. But God saw me as Hagar. God called me by name. God made me promises. God blessed my son.
You have value beyond how people use you. You have identity beyond victim. You have a future beyond trauma.
God sees you when no one else does. Twice I was in the desert expecting to die. Twice God found me. Twice God saw me. El Roi. The God who sees.
When you’re invisible to everyone else, God sees you. When you’re forgotten, God remembers. When you’re dying in the desert, God provides water.
Sometimes you have to survive in difficult circumstances while waiting for the way out. I had to go back to Sarah. I had to endure mistreatment. I had to wait years before being cast out (which was actually my liberation, though it didn’t feel like it at the time).
You can’t always immediately escape. Sometimes you have to survive in toxic circumstances while trusting that God is working. That doesn’t mean accept abuse—it means recognize that escape isn’t always immediate.
God provides in the desert. When I couldn’t see the water, God opened my eyes. When Ishmael was dying, God heard his cry. When we had nothing, God provided everything.
The desert won’t kill you if God is with you. The consequences won’t destroy you if God provides. The impossibility isn’t final if God intervenes.
You can build a life even after being cast out. Ishmael became a great nation. I survived. We thrived. Not as part of Isaac’s line, not as the promised heir, but as our own story.
Your life can continue even after exile. Even after being thrown away. Even after people give up on you. God hasn’t given up. Your story continues.”
Together they’d say:
“This situation hurt everyone. Sarah’s impatience. Abraham’s passivity. My victimization. Ishmael’s exile. Isaac’s complicated family. Everyone suffered because one person couldn’t wait.
Don’t be Sarah. Don’t try to force God’s promise. Don’t use people. Don’t refuse to wait.
Don’t be Abraham. Don’t passively agree to terrible plans. Don’t abdicate responsibility. Don’t throw vulnerable people under the bus to avoid conflict.
And if you’re Hagar—if you’ve been used, abused, cast out—know this: God sees you. God makes promises to you. God provides for you even in the desert. Your value isn’t determined by how people use you.
El Roi. The God who sees. He sees you. Right now. In your desert. With your consequences. In your pain.
He sees. He hears. He provides.
Now stop trying to force solutions and start trusting provision.”
Two Women, One Story, Infinite Lessons
Sarah and Hagar never should have been in this situation. Sarah should have waited. Abraham should have led. Hagar should never have been used.
But here we are. A story of impatience, control, victimization, blame, consequences, survival, and provision.
Sarah teaches us what NOT to do: Don’t force solutions. Don’t use people. Don’t blame others. Don’t refuse to wait.
Hagar teaches us what TO remember: God sees the unseen. God provides in the desert. God makes promises to the victimized. You have value beyond how people use you.
And together they teach us: Control creates casualties. Backup plans backfire. Impatience creates complications that last generations. And God sees, hears, and provides even in the mess we create.
In recovery, you’ll be tempted to be Sarah. To force solutions. To use people. To refuse to wait. To demand immediate results.
Resist. Wait. Trust. Surrender.
And if you’re Hagar—if you’ve been used, abused, cast out, wandering in the desert with your consequences—know this:
God sees you. You are not invisible. You are not forgotten. You are not trash to be disposed of.
You are Hagar. And El Roi—the God who sees—is with you.
There’s water in the desert. You can’t see it yet. But God will open your eyes.
Ishmael will survive. You will survive. The desert won’t kill you.
Because God sees. God hears. God provides.
And that’s enough.
The Takeaways (For Those Who Skipped to the End)
- When you see God as the obstacle instead of the provider, you’ll try to force solutions yourself.
- Using people to solve your problems always creates more problems.
- Being victimized doesn’t justify becoming contemptuous.
- When your plan backfires, you’ll be tempted to blame everyone but yourself. Resist this.
- Passive agreement to bad plans is still participation.
- Victims can become victimizers. Break the cycle, don’t perpetuate it.
- God sees you when no one else does. But being seen doesn’t always mean immediate escape.
- Your backup plan doesn’t disappear when God’s plan arrives. You live with consequences for years.
- God’s promise will be fulfilled at the very time He said, not when you try to force it.
- Eventually, the backup plan has to go. And removing it is painful for everyone.
- The consequences of your backup plan might almost kill you. But God sees, hears, and provides.
- Control creates casualties. But God sees the unseen and provides in the desert.
A Final Word
Sarah couldn’t wait. So she used Hagar. Hagar was victimized. Ishmael was born. Years of dysfunction followed. Isaac finally came. Hagar and Ishmael were cast out. They almost died in the desert. God provided water.
Everyone suffered because one person couldn’t surrender control.
Don’t be Sarah. Don’t force solutions. Don’t use people. Wait for God’s timing.
And if you’re Hagar—if you’ve been used, abused, cast out—remember:
El Roi. The God who sees. He sees you. He hears you. He will provide water in your desert.
You’re not invisible. You’re not forgotten. You’re not worthless.
You’re seen. You’re named. You’re promised a future.
The water is there. God will open your eyes.
Now stop trying to force solutions and start trusting provision.
Sarah learned this too late. Hagar learned it in the desert.
Learn it now. Before the casualties. Before the desert.
God sees. God provides. God keeps His promises.
Trust Him. Wait for Him. Let Him provide in His time, His way.
The backup plan will backfire. The forced solution will create complications. The impatience will create casualties.
But the promise will come. At the very time God said. In the way God planned. Through the method God intended.
Wait for it. Trust it. Surrender to it.
El Roi sees you. And that’s enough.