INTERFERENCE!

“Sarah leading Hagar to Abraham,” it is called. This work, by the Dutch master Matthias Stomer (1600–1649), hangs in the Gemäldegalerie, State Museum of Berlin. I was transfixed by that painting for a long time last year, fascinated by the faces, the lighting, the hands, ….

The hands! Three pairs of them: one innocent, attempting to maintain her modesty (helped in part by Photoshop—Sorry, Mr. Stomer!); one guilty; one seemingly reluctant.

I am not entirely convinced about that reluctant pair of male hands. Genesis 16 concurs with Sarah’s taking the initiative in the matter, so perhaps Stomer is accurate in his depiction. But the pattern of Abraham’s life thus far hasn’t exactly been one that inspires confidence in my namesake’s innocence.

This is the guy who took his nephew along when God told him to leave his relatives and take a long trip (Gen 12:1–4). This is the character who, while he was fine obeying God when the going was good, hotfoots it into Egypt the moment a famine hits the land he was led to (Gen 12:7–10). And this is the rascal who palms off his wife to Pharaoh to save his own skin (Gen 12:11–20). Not exactly a sparkling Curriculum Vitae. And then Hagar.

All along this dude, Abe—God bless his heart!—is stumbling along in his faith. Not that he doesn’t have any faith (though at times one does wonder), but that he appears to want to help God out time and again. “Me have a child? What rubbish! I’ll just take Lot along. He’s a good kid. He can take over God’s promises.” Nope. Lot raises up the Ammonites and Moabites, lifelong enemies of the children of Israel. Then the Hagar episode. “Well, maybe I will have a child of my own. But through that old lady, Sarah? Who’re you kidding? Just look at her! Hey, here’s another idea. I’ll just, uh, you know, … collaborate with whatshername from Egypt.” And Hagar raises up the Ishmaelites. Nuff said about these latter folks.

I’m slowly learning that God doesn’t need my help. No, He doesn’t. My “help” is no help to God. My “help” is, in fact, interference. And what He wants is not my interference, but my dependence and my obedience.

Maybe that’s why He prefers to work through weakness. Less interference. More obedience. Maybe that’s why He often achieves His purposes through those who are broken. Less interference. More dependence.

And He has said to me,
“My grace is sufficient for you,
for power is perfected in weakness.”
Most gladly, therefore, I will rather
boast about my weaknesses,
so that the power of Christ
may dwell in me.
Therefore I am well content
with weaknesses, with insults,
with distresses, with persecutions,
with difficulties, for Christ’s sake;
for when I am weak, then I am strong.
2 Corinthians 12:9–10

It is the one who realizes one’s feebleness, frailty, and failure who arrives at the point of dependence and obedience, to echo, with Paul …

I can do all things through Him
who strengthens me.
Philippians 4:13

But without Christ, nothing!

“I am the vine, you are the branches;
he who abides in Me and I in him,
he bears much fruit,
for apart from Me
you can do nothing.”
John 15:5

Not interference, but dependence. Not interference, but obedience. The old song had it right:

Trust and obey, for there’s no other way,
To be happy in Jesus,
But to trust and obey!

Indeed!