My God is faithful.  I believe that now.  He raised me from what I thought would be a desert grave.  And I wanted nothing more than to die.  I had been sent away from my master’s home because I had borne him a son, and his wife Sarah was jealous.  She resented me for doing what she could not–bear children for her husband.  She was the one who offered me to Abraham to do just that, and when I gave birth, she grew to hate me and my son, Ishmael.  And so she convinced her husband to send my son and me away into the desert with one skin of water and enough food to last for a few days.  I knew then that Ishmael and I would die.  So we wandered alone into the scorching sands, and once we ran out of water, I laid my son under a bush and went off alone to weep.  In my agony, I cried out to my master’s God.  Who are you, Lord?  And who is this son that I have borne?  Isn’t he supposed to be the child you promised to Abram?  And there in the desert, I met this God.  I found out who He is.  He is the God who sees me, who hears my cries.  He led me to a spring of water and told me not to be afraid, that He would make my son into a great nation.  That we would live.  As I filled the skin of water to bring back to my thirsty child, I trusted this God who provides in the desert.  And now…I am not afraid.


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