When Human Schemes Fall Apart
Genesis 16:1-6 4/10/2026; IOUC; Sister Xiang
Has anyone noticed that the passage we are looking at today is the same passage we studied in August in the message titled “Abram’s Silence”? Today, our focus is on another person—Sarai. According to this passage, Sarai was the one who initiated this whole drama of having a child through a surrogate. This is the first time in Scripture that she clearly expresses her opinion in words. She had been silent before, but when she finally spoke, it was anything but insignificant. Her words set in motion a chain of events that would become a spark for more than a thousand years of conflict and bloodshed in the Middle East.
From the perspective of the world, asking Hagar to bear a child for her was simply a desperate decision Sarai made after carefully weighing the circumstances. And when she mistreated Hagar, perhaps we might say that she was merely acting out of human instinct to defend her position as the legitimate wife—she simply went a little too far and was a little too harsh.
But God leads us to think more deeply. Sarai had been given the dignity and honor of becoming the mother of nations. Why, then, did she end up reducing herself to someone who needed a slave to bear a child for her, so that the child could be claimed as her own? Why did she become a resentful wife before Abram, yet a harsh and domineering woman before Hagar? And when all her carefully calculated plans finally fell apart, where could she turn?
Her Earlier Experiences
When we talked about Abram, we emphasized that the background of this whole drama was what happened after he had entered into a covenant with God. This allowed us to see the weakness of Abram’s faith after making that covenant. But here, when we look at Sarai, we are not given any such details. We do not see what Abram told her about his encounter with God, nor do we see how the two of them interacted as husband and wife. Perhaps, then, we can look at Sarai from a different perspective.
Sarai is a Hebrew name that means “my princess.” In that culture, this was not an ordinary, insignificant name. The names given to girls at that time were often derived from plants, animals, nature, or simple expressions of everyday wishes. Some biblical commentators, including Matthew Henry and certain Jewish rabbis, have suggested that Sarai may have come from a wealthy or aristocratic family. In the eyes of the generation that gave her that name—or perhaps in the eyes of her own people—she was a noble princess. From the very beginning, her name carried a sense of dignity, honor, and privilege.
1. An Obedient Wife
Yet Sarai was not a woman with a sense of entitlement simply because she was a “princess.” She followed Terah and Abram away from the comfortable life they had known in Ur. She was an obedient daughter-in-law and an obedient wife. When they were in Egypt, Abram was afraid for his life, so he told the Egyptians that Sarai was his sister. Sarai did not confront him or lash out at him, saying, “How could you be so shameless?” Instead, she was taken into Pharaoh’s palace and remained silent. Within the kingdom of this family, Sarai demonstrated remarkable forbearance and self-restraint. She was willing to endure humiliation, and she also had the bigger-picture perspective to protect her husband’s life. She was not simply a passive woman. Behind her silence was a remarkable capacity to endure, to submit, and to put the well-being of her husband and family ahead of her own dignity.
2. A Husband Who Betrayed Her
In Genesis 20:12, Abram tells Abimelech that Sarai was his half-sister. They had likely grown up together, knowing each other from childhood. Perhaps they were childhood companions who knew each other deeply. Being both relatives and spouses may have given their marriage an even greater sense of security. But then, one day in Egypt, Abram, out of fear for his own life, betrayed her and gave her over to others. If the LORD had not intervened, the consequences could have been devastating. From that moment on, Sarai had to face the ugliness of human nature in a deeply personal way. The person who should have been closest to her, the person she should have been able to trust most, became the very person who broke her heart through betrayal. And what makes it even more painful is that Abram never appears to have repented of this before God or apologized to Sarai. Worse still, he repeated the same mistake a second time. The one who should have been her protector became the source of her deepest insecurity. The person she trusted most had shown her that even the closest human relationship could fail her.
3. A Distant Relationship with God
When God rescued Sarai from Pharaoh’s palace in Egypt, the Bible records no words of thanksgiving from her, nor any declaration of renewed trust in God. When Abram entered into a covenant with God, Sarai seems almost like an outsider. There is no description of her response, her faith, or her relationship with God. Although she had left her homeland and abandoned the gods she had once known, she had not yet established a genuine relationship with the LORD. God had not yet truly entered into her personal life. She had left her old home, but she had not yet learned to live by faith in the God who had called her. And so, when she faced impossible circumstances, she could only wander in the wilderness of human helplessness, trying to find her own way out.
Sarai’s Scheming
At this point in her life, Sarai was living within the world of self, focused primarily on her own interests, her own needs, and her own problems. Yet God used these very difficulties to lead her, step by step. Through the eventual collapse of her carefully calculated plans, and through the despair she experienced when her own self-reliance reached its limits, God was leading her out of herself. Sometimes God allows our carefully constructed plans to fall apart—not to destroy us, but to show us the limits of our own wisdom and strength, and to lead us to the place where we finally learn to trust Him.
1. Childlessness Was Considered the Greatest Shame
The very first verse of Genesis 16 immediately points out Sarai’s great problem: she was unable to have children. In the eyes of the world, no matter how noble or beautiful a woman might be, a woman who could not bear children was often regarded as though she were somehow useless. For Sarai, this had been a source of shame for many years.
As time passed and she reached the age of seventy-five, that shame brought with it even greater fear and despair. It also filled her heart with bitterness toward God. She blamed the LORD for keeping her from having children. Instead of trusting that God is faithful to His covenant and abundant in lovingkindness, and that when the appointed time came, He would surely give her a child, Sarai allowed her circumstances to overwhelm her faith. And even if God did not give her a child, even if she could not maintain her position as the legitimate wife, God would still be faithful to preserve and care for her. But “childlessness is the greatest shame” was a heavy yoke imposed upon her by the culture of her time. That cultural expectation became so deeply rooted in her heart that she began to measure her worth, her future, and even God’s faithfulness by whether or not she could have a child.
2. Her First Attempt at Self-Preservation
Under the customs of that time, women generally had no right to inherit property. They could not inherit even something as small as a sheep. If Abram’s household inheritance were to pass to his servant Eliezer or to his nephew Lot, then after Abram died, Sarai might have been left without any property of her own. She might even have had to depend on others simply to have enough to eat. If she continued to remain childless, then according to the customs of that ancient world—and later reflected in laws such as the Code of Hammurabi—Abram could potentially take another wife while retaining Sarai’s position. Her status and security would have become increasingly uncertain.
And the husband who had already betrayed her was no longer someone she could completely trust. If she could not fully trust him, whom else could she trust? In the end, she felt that she had to depend upon herself. If she could claim the child born through her servant as her own, perhaps that child would one day become her source of security and support. Sarai was intelligent, perceptive, and capable of seeing the bigger picture. Of course, no woman would willingly give her maidservant to her husband without an inner struggle. But after carefully calculating the situation, Sarai may have concluded that this was the best way to protect herself. Seen from that perspective, it becomes easier to understand why she was the one who took the initiative. She became the one who first proposed the idea and, in this sense, the initiator of this entire attempt to have a child through her servant. What looked like a calculated strategy for self-preservation was, at its deepest level, an attempt to secure for herself the future that she no longer believed she could safely entrust to God.
3. A Fig-Leaf Skirt
At this point, I am reminded of Genesis 3:7. After Adam and Eve sinned, their eyes were opened, and they realized that they were naked. So they sewed fig leaves together and made coverings for themselves to hide their shame. Without the wisdom that comes from God, Sarai, inheriting the same sinful nature as every other human being, could only make her own fig-leaf skirt. She tried to cover her fear, shame, insecurity, and helplessness with her own plans. But just as Adam and Eve’s fig leaves could never truly deal with their sin and shame, Sarai’s carefully calculated solution could never truly solve the deeper problem in her heart.
This also reminds me of the account of Hannah in 1 Samuel 1. Hannah was unable to have children, and she was deeply humiliated by the other wife. She wept and would not eat. But in the midst of her anguish, she brought everything before God. She poured out her heart before the LORD, and afterward, she went her way, ate, and her face was no longer sad. She had received the peace that God gives. Hannah had the covering of God’s provision, while Sarai was trying to cover herself with her own fig leaves. What a striking contrast! One woman brought her deepest pain before God and found peace; the other tried to cover her pain through her own schemes. One trusted God to deal with what she could not control; the other tried to take control herself. The difference between them is like the difference between God’s covering and a fig-leaf skirt—the difference is truly worlds apart.
Sarai’s Hope
Of course, as we have said, a fig-leaf skirt is ultimately an act of self-deception. It cannot truly cover us, and it is fragile and easily torn. Before the ten months of pregnancy were even over, the pregnant servant girl had already begun to look down on Sarai. And little by little, Sarai’s carefully calculated plan began to fall apart. The very solution she had devised to secure her future was now becoming a source of pain and humiliation. What she thought would give her control was slipping out of her control. Her “fig-leaf skirt” was beginning to tear.
1. Weaponizing Faith
When Sarai’s carefully calculated plan began to fall apart, she used her own shrewdness to pressure Abram through their faith. She had heard the name of the LORD, but she did not truly trust Him or seek His grace. When she saw that her husband was not stepping forward to defend her, she said, “May the LORD judge between you and me.” Her words had the desired effect. Abram was forced to respond: “Behold, your maid is in your hand; do to her as you please.”
Sarai knew the power of invoking God’s name. But if, instead, she had begun to repent and come before God, acknowledging that she had been wrong in trying to obtain a child through Hagar, would that not have been better than seeking support from her husband? Would that not have been better than using faith as a means of putting pressure on him? This brings to mind the words of Genesis 3:16: “Your desire shall be for your husband, and he shall rule over you.” These words describe one of the tragic consequences of sin within the marriage relationship. Instead of turning to God in repentance, Sarai turned to Abram. Instead of seeking God’s grace, she sought to control the situation through her husband. She had begun by trying to control her future, and now she was trying to control her husband through faith. But neither strategy could give her the security she was looking for. What Sarai needed was not greater control, but repentance, surrender, and a renewed trust in God.
2. Sarai’s Bottom Line
Let us look at what Sarai says in Genesis 16:5. First, she says, “I have been wronged because of you.” She portrays herself as the one who has sacrificed for the sake of the family—the one who endured hardship because she wanted the family to have a future and descendants. But notice how she frames the issue. She speaks in terms of family matters—something between herself and Abram—not in terms of God’s kingdom or God’s covenant promise concerning the promised heir. Then she continues: “I myself gave my maidservant into your embrace, and when she saw that she had conceived, she looked down on me.” In this one sentence, the word “I” appears three times in the original Hebrew emphasis. The central concern is this: “My maidservant has looked down on me. My position has been diminished. My interests have been harmed.” Finally, she says: “May the LORD judge between you and me.” This is where faith becomes a weapon. She invokes God’s name and calls upon Him to defend her interests.
Sarai was capable of great endurance. She could tolerate being presented as Abram’s sister and even being taken into Pharaoh’s palace. But she could not tolerate having her position as the legitimate wife diminished or threatened. That was her bottom line.
And when that bottom line was attacked, she became the harsh woman who mistreated Hagar. According to the customs of that time—or as reflected later in the Code of Hammurabi—Hagar could potentially have been reduced to the status of a slave. But Sarai did not stop there. She began to mistreat her pregnant servant so severely that Hagar would rather flee into a wilderness filled with danger and possible death than remain there. And now Sarai found herself trapped in a terrible dilemma. She had tried to secure her future through Hagar, only to have Hagar despise her. If she allowed Hagar to remain, Sarai had to live with the humiliation of seeing her own servant carrying the child she desperately wanted. But if she drove the pregnant Hagar away, there was the possibility that both mother and child might die. Whether it was having a child through her servant only to be despised by her, or driving away a pregnant woman and potentially losing both mother and child, neither option could erase her humiliation or relieve her despair and anxiety. There was no human strategy left that could restore what she had lost. And so, little by little, her carefully calculated plan finally broke down—and Sarai herself lost control.
3. The Dignity She Could Not See
Sarai was destined to become the mother of many nations. What an incredible honor and dignity that was! But when she focused only on herself, all she could see was the loss of her ability to bear children, the crisis that threatened her future, a husband she could no longer trust, Hagar’s contempt after she became pregnant, and the inadequate covering of her own fig-leaf skirt.
But God turned her life completely around. In Genesis 17:15, God said: “As for Sarai your wife, you shall not call her name Sarai, but Sarah shall be her name.” And God continued: “I will bless her, and moreover, I will give you a son by her. I will bless her, and she shall become nations; kings of peoples shall come from her.” Then, at the age of ninety, she miraculously gave birth to and nursed a baby. And she said, “God has made laughter for me; everyone who hears will laugh with me.” —Genesis 21:7 If she could have seen this dignity and honor from the beginning, would she still have needed to sew herself that fig-leaf skirt?
For quite a long time, I have reflected on my own life, and I discovered that I had the same kind of focus as Sarai. I was focused on my own feelings, and on what I might gain or lose within my family. I began to see how narrow that perspective was, and I asked God to change me. I thank God for showing me that whether Sarai tried to have a child through her servant or tried to drive her servant away, without God, she was trapped in an impossible dilemma. This has caused me to ask myself: Where should we draw the bottom line in our lives? And if we focus only on our own bottom line, what kind of despair will that eventually produce? We also see the contrast in Abram. In order to preserve his own life, Abram was willing to betray his wife—and he did it twice.
But Jesus Christ, for the sake of His bride, the church, willingly gave Himself and went to the cross. Abram tried to preserve his own life. Christ gave His life. Abram’s focus was on protecting himself. Christ’s focus was on loving and redeeming His bride. So where, then, should our focus be? Are we constantly looking at ourselves—our feelings, our losses, our rights, our dignity, and our bottom line? Or are we looking to God, trusting His promises, and placing our lives in His hands? Where is our focus? Perhaps the greatest thing God wanted to change in Sarai was not simply her circumstances. It was her focus. God was teaching her to take her eyes off herself and look to Him. And perhaps that is what God is teaching us today as well.
Conclusion
In some ways, compared with Abram, Sarai was more alone, more wounded, and more insecure. As I read her story, I can sense her despair, her heartbreak, and the loss of control that came when all her carefully calculated plans finally fell apart. And I, too, have experienced the tears that come when my own fig-leaf skirt has been torn apart.
Sarai’s faith was at a stage where she had heard about God, but had not truly drawn near to Him. At times, she even used faith to pressure and control others, rather than placing her trust in God. I have gone through a season like that myself. At such a stage, we are still wearing our fig-leaf skirts. We are still the noble princesses of our own little kingdoms, trying to protect ourselves, secure our future, and maintain control. But when that fig-leaf skirt finally tears apart, we become desperate. We become anxious. And sometimes, we lose control. Yet God looks upon us with mercy. He sees us in the midst of our brokenness, and He patiently waits for us to learn the lesson hidden in the collapse of our own carefully calculated plans.
He wants us to take off that torn and broken garment and put on the full armor of God. He wants to lead us out of the narrow kingdom of self and into the kingdom He Himself has prepared—the kingdom of the mother of many nations. And there, in Christ, we can enter into His eternal rest.
Genesis 16:1-6
1Now Sarai, Abram’s wife, had borne him no children. She had a female Egyptian servant whose name was Hagar.
2 And Sarai said to Abram, “Behold now, the Lord has prevented me from bearing children. Go in to my servant; it may be that I shall obtain children by her.” And Abram listened to the voice of Sarai.
3 So, after Abram had lived ten years in the land of Canaan, Sarai, Abram’s wife, took Hagar the Egyptian, her servant, and gave her to Abram her husband as a wife.
4 And he went in to Hagar, and she conceived. And when she saw that she had conceived, she looked with contempt on her mistress.
5 And Sarai said to Abram, “May the wrong done to me be on you! I gave my servant to your embrace, and when she saw that she had conceived, she looked on me with contempt. May the Lord judge between you and me!”
6 But Abram said to Sarai, “Behold, your servant is in your power; do to her as you please.” Then Sarai dealt harshly with her, and she fled from her.
