The blessing of self-sacrifice

“And Sarai said unto Abram, My wrong be upon thee: I have given my maid into thy bosom; and when she saw that she had conceived, I was despised in her eyes: the LORD judge between me and thee. But Abram said unto Sarai, Behold, thy maid is in thy hand; do to her as it pleaseth thee. And when Sarai dealt hardly with her, she fled from her face.” (Gen. 16:5,6).

“And Rebekah said to Isaac, I am weary of my life because of the daughters of Heth: if Jacob take a wife of the daughters of Heth, such as these which are of the daughters of the land, what good shall my life do me?” (Gen. 27:46).

Self-sacrifice.

Sarai came to know Jesus through Abram. Abram’s heart for the goodness of God perfected Sarai’s character because she loved Abram. Both were descendants of Eber. Therefore both were acquainted with the only true God, the Creator of heaven and the earth. But, only Abram was talking to God. Sarai’s faith wasn’t as strong as her husband’s, but Jesus will take what He gets, and make it better. Slowly Sarai’s faith and obedience came in line with the standards that Jesus was teaching her and Abram. Both were becoming qualified to bring forth the promised son, who would be the progenitor of a nation that would bring forth another promised Son, the Messiah.

But, then came Hagar.

Hagar represented everything Sarah didn’t. They were the farthest thing from a match made in heaven. What a mistake! But, they must live together, two women in the same kitchen. Both bound together by the hope that their son, Ishmael, was the son God had promised Abram, they tolerated each other, as each worked feverishly at counter-purposes with the other to inculcate a mother’s love and opposing theologies into Ishmael. But, eventually Hagar, being the real mother, got the advantage. Yet, Sarai patiently played her part in rearing up the son that Jehovah had promised Abram and her. She endured Ishmael’s wildness and the self-exaltation that he imbibed from his mother. In Ishmael Sarai saw Hagar’s imbibed prejudices, her imbibed superstition, her imbibed ignorance of Jesus’ character. The older Ishmael got, the more like Hagar he grew. Sarai regretted ever having convinced Abram to heed the local custom of adoption by using a servant girl for a surrogate mother. Sarai was learning that just because Jesus didn’t stop them from heeding local customs, that didn’t mean He condoned them. Sarai and Abram both knew better, but desperation and short-sightedness weakened their resolve to trust and rehearse their Lord’s promises and obey all His commandments and judgments. Nevertheless, Jesus let the cards fall where they would, and He let results and consequences reinforce what He had already taught His children.

“Thine own wickedness shall correct thee, and thy backslidings shall reprove thee: know therefore and see that it is an evil thing and bitter.” (Jer. 2:19).

For Sarai especially was following local customs bitter. But, when she had finally learned her lesson, then she could be the mother that Jesus needed her to be. Once Jesus opened her womb, and she conceived her own son, finally she could be spared the painful, unsanctifying influences that Hagar daily brought into the home. The long, painful lessons were surrendered to. Now Sarah could ensure that only sanctified thoughts and words and actions would surround Isaac. Faith and obedience was his daily feast. Few children have ever lived in such a godly environment. And such a privilege only happened because Sarah patiently endured her training for surrender and repentance and mercy in the school of Christ.

Rebekah was a spiritual woman. She knew Jesus. Esau’s wives were carnal and had never known the goodness of their Creator. They had never known conviction of sin and a personal Saviour from sin. The world around them, the people, friends and acquaintances, were all that meant anything to those Canaanite women. Their crude words and ways were forever an affront to Rebekah.

But, Rebekah was responsible for this situation. She took part in giving partiality to Jacob over Esau, as a reaction to Isaac’s partiality of Esau over Jacob. Her involvement in Jacob’s deception of his father, the patriarch Isaac, was the last straw for Esau. He recklessly got his revenge on his parents by uniting in marriage with the kind of women that he knew Rebekah didn’t care for. Those women were a constant assault to her conscience.  Their cold-hearted sarcastic manners offended her warm-hearted sensibilities. They grated on her love for excellence of character. The unruly, lawless world had been brought into her home, into her private world. They were a constant challenge to her communion with Jesus. There was no escaping them. Rebekah knew what was good and Christlike; but the wives of Esau were trained to be completely different. What good did her life do her under these circumstances? And worse, her precious Jacob with the faith of at least the size of a mustard seed, had to flee under Esau’s vendetta. Then her only source of honest love and left, and she never saw him again.

So even if Rebekah died a heart-broken, early death, the faith she had exercised all of her life kept her faithful to Jesus until the very end. “Out of weakness [she was] made strong.” (Heb. 11:34). Rebekah obtained the victory and could live among her heathen in-laws. She could be a light to the world. She could let her light shine and glorify her Father in heaven.

Joab was the same to David as Hagar was to Sarah, and Esau’s wives to Rebekah. David loved Jesus and loved to be at His right hand for evermore. He loved to dwell in the house of the Lord forever and to look into His majesty. But Joab had never had that experience, and never did get it. This must be because he never wanted to have it badly enough. Joab knew of the plan of salvation (see 2 Sam. 17:17); he knew of the high standard that God had given to Israel. But Joab would not surrender to them. He had never tasted and seen that the Lord’s Spirit is good. He had never bowed his heart and set his love upon his Redeemer. That left Joab solely focused on his career, his job and the power that came out of it, and his wars that were his only source of recognition and satisfaction. He was a man of war, and nothing else. His gift of strategy, generalship, and leadership were superb. But those qualities could never save him and give him access to his God. They would never prepare him for an eternity before the Most Holy. He never loved God or His only begotten Son. Therefore David and his uncle could never see heart to heart. And Joab, who only wanted to destroy enemies, was a continual hurt to David, who wanted Israel to be a light of justice and mercy to the world.

“My soul hath long dwelt with him that hateth peace. I am for peace: but when I speak, they are for war.” (Ps. 120:6,7).

Perhaps this is the reason that David, in 2 Samuel 11:1, sent Joab on to fight the wars of the Lord while David stayed back in his palace. The king needed to get away from his general. But is that what Jesus would have done? Did Jesus do that with His own closest advisor, Judas Iscariot?

“Of the twelve disciples, four were to act a leading part, each in a distinct line. In preparation for this, Christ taught them, foreseeing all. James, destined to swift-coming death by the sword; John, longest of the brethren to follow his Master in labor and persecution; Peter, the pioneer in breaking through the barriers of ages, and teaching the heathen world; and Judas, in service capable of pre-eminence above his brethren, yet brooding in his soul purposes of whose ripening he little dreamed-- these were the objects of Christ’s greatest solicitude and the recipients of His most frequent and careful instruction.” Education, p. 86.

Judas was in the closest circle of Christ’s disciples. There were not three, but four. Jesus brought His adversary close to His heart. Did Jesus want Rebekah and Sarah (and possibly David also) to remain aloof from the insiders who disparaged their faith? Or did He expect them to continue being burden bearers, like He had always been? Didn’t Jesus expect David to continue in the school of hardship, which he had been in the whole time since he had first stepped into the national limelight? Didn’t Jesus expect them all to suffer affliction with the people of God as He and Moses had, and thus be qualified to sing the song of Moses and the Lamb?

Did Moses ever get to retire from public service? Did Paul? Did Ellen White? Did Jesus Himself? From the very beginning Jesus has been the great Burden Bearer of His Father’s kingdom. And He inspired the whole army of burden-bearers all the way until the day of His offering. “Though He were a Son, yet learned He obedience by the things which He suffered.” (Heb. 5:8). The Son of God has been the Lamb slain since the foundation of the world. Do we want to learn to be like Jesus? Will we keep our hand to the plow? Will we die in the office where Jesus puts us unless He calls us to another office of greater burdens for us to bear?

“Let every man abide in the same calling wherein he was called. Art thou called being a servant? care not for it: but if thou mayest be made free, use it rather. For he that is called in the Lord, being a servant, is the Lord’s freeman: likewise also he that is called, being free, is Christ’s servant.” (1Cor. 7:20-22).

Art thou a spouse? Art thou a parent? Art thou a son or a daughter? Art thou the church janitor? Art thou a deacon or a deaconess? Art thou a Sabbath school superintendent or teacher? Art thou the head elder, or the pastor? Abide in the same calling until Jesus calls you higher, and see the salvation of the Lord in your own heart and in the hearts of those who you are joyfully, tenderly, patiently, humbly serving.

Will we learn in the school of Christ, the school of self-sacrificing love? Will we sing the song of Moses and the Lamb?

“That I may know Him, and the power of His resurrection, and the fellowship of His sufferings, being made conformable unto His death; if by any means I might attain unto the resurrection of the dead.” (Phil. 3:10,11).