Messages From Strangers

Text focus: Genesis 18:1-15; 21:1-7

Most of us know the feeling of waiting for something that seems less and less likely with every passing year. A prayer that has gone unanswered. A relationship that has not healed. A dream that seems long dead. A promise that feels forgotten.

Abraham and Sarah have been waiting for twenty-five years. God promised that their descendants would be more than can be counted, yet Sarah remains childless. And now both Sarah and Abraham are old, Chapter 17 tells us that Abraham is 99 and Sarah is 90. The promise appears impossible. Then, on an ordinary afternoon, God shows up. Have you ever received important news from someone you never expected?

Maybe it was a stranger who stopped to help when your car breaks down. Maybe it is a doctor you've only just met delivering life-changing news. Maybe it was a new friend who speaks a word of encouragement at exactly the right moment. Maybe it is a child who asks a question that suddenly reveals a truth you've been avoiding.

God often works through unexpected messengers. Throughout Scripture, some of God's most important messages arrive through strangers, travelers, visitors, and people who appear unexpectedly. Divine encounters happen in ordinary places. God speaks through those we least expect. That is exactly what happens in our scripture today.

Abraham is sitting outside his tent in the heat of the day. Sarah is busy with the work of daily life. It was a seemingly ordinary afternoon. Until three strangers appear.

What follows is a story about hospitality, promise, doubt, faithfulness, and laughter. It is a story about a God who keeps promises even when those promises seem impossible. It is a story that invites us to consider what happens when God shows up in unexpected ways.

Picture this with me, it’s a hot day, too hot to be doing any physical labor, so you find a shady spot under a tree where the cool breeze makes it possible to rest for a bit.

This is where today’s story begins, the trees are oak trees near Mamree, a location in what is modern day Palestine. The air is hot and dry, and the person sitting under the tree is Abraham.

Abraham is resting near under a tree not to far from his tent and when he looks up and sees three men standing nearby. Now, we are told in the opening verse that the Lord appeared to Abraham. But, many scholars believe that Abraham likely did not know exactly who these visitors were at least initially. As far as he can tell, they are travelers passing through.

And immediately upon seeing these visitors that seem to have appeared out of nowhere, Abraham springs into action. Notice how much movement there is in these few verses.

Abraham runs to meet them.

Bows before them.

Urges them to stay.

Rushes to Sarah.

Runs to the herd.

A servant prepares food.

Sarah begins baking.

Everyone is moving.

For a man nearly one hundred years old, Abraham is remarkably energetic. What is striking is that Abraham offers far more than he initially promises. He says, "Let me bring a little water and a little bread." And then he goes about preparing an elaborate feast. He serves mounds of fresh bread, the Hebrew here says 3 seahs. 1 seah is equivalent to 2 gallons, or about 16 pounds of flour, which means that he had 48 pounds of flour made into bread, cakes, and other baked goods. He used choose a “fatted calf” a younger but well fed calf which likely would have yielded around 150-250 pounds of meat, and curds, and milk which were both highly sought after treats at the time, as they had no refrigeration to keep these things for very long. To sum it up, his hospitality is extravagant.

In Abraham's world, hospitality was not simply a social courtesy. The desert could be a dangerous place. Travelers depended upon the kindness of strangers. So offering food, water, and rest was considered a sacred responsibility.

Yet Abraham goes beyond obligation. He doesn't offer the minimum. He offers the best. And here is what is so important: Abraham extends hospitality before he knows exactly who these visitors really are. He welcomes them before knowing what they can do for him. He welcomes them before knowing they carry a message from God. He welcomes them simply because they are strangers in need of welcome.

The writer of Hebrews may have had this very story in mind when he wrote:

"Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for by doing that some have entertained angels without knowing it." There is something deeply holy about hospitality. Hospitality is not simply serving food or meeting someone’s needs. Hospitality is making room, room at the table, room in our schedules, room in our hearts.

The church is called to this kind of hospitality. In a world where loneliness has become endemic, the act of hospitality becomes not just ministry but an act of healing. Every time when we greet someone we don't know. When we invite someone to lunch. When we sit beside someone who is alone. When we notice the person everyone else seems to overlook. That hospitality says, "I see you, there is room here for you and you have value." And sometimes, when we open our doors to strangers, we discover that God has entered with them.

After the meal, the conversation takes a surprising turn. The visitors ask a specific question. "Where is your wife Sarah?" Suddenly this isn't a casual conversation anymore. This is personal. Abraham, is honest with the visitor saying that she is in the tent. Then one of the visitors makes an astonishing announcement. "I will surely return to you in due season, and your wife Sarah shall have a son."

Now, if we have been following Abraham's story, we know this isn't the first time Abraham has heard of this kind of promise. God has been promising descendants for years. But decades have passed. Abraham and Sarah have waited. They have hoped. They have prayed. They have wondered. And they have grown old; too old they think for this promise to be possible.

The years have continued to pass, and yet, the promise has remained.

Have you ever waited so long for something that you stopped expecting it?

Perhaps you prayed for healing or reconciliation.

Perhaps you prayed for a child or a loved one.

Perhaps you prayed for direction or guidance.

At first the prayer is full of confidence.

Then the waiting begins, and after enough waiting, hope itself can become exhausting.

That is where Sarah is. She has heard this promise, they have waited so long that they stopped thinking it could happen and so Abraham had a child with Hagar, Sarah’s slave and handmaid.

And yet God speaks again, but this time it is not that Sarah will have a child someday, or eventually. This time the promise is repeated with specificity. Sarah will have a son. And it will be soon.

The Hebrew here is “ka'et chayah” (Kay-et KHah-Yah). Some translations of say “due season” others translate this to “time of life” which would be equivalent to about 9 months, still others say “a year’s time” or “this time next year” and still others say “at the appointed time”. What we do know about this word is that it indicates a specific amount of time. The wait continues, but there is light at the end of the tunnel. A clear and specific finish line.

When Sarah hears this promise, we get a most human moment. Sarah laughs.

The text tells us she laughs to herself. It is a private laugh. A quiet laugh. Perhaps even a bitter laugh. “After I have grown old, and my husband is old, shall I be fruitful?” She says to herself. Sarah knows enough about how the body works that the idea of her having a child at this age seems impossible. She knows her own body. She is long past the age of menstruation. She has carried years of disappointment, knowing that she would likely not be the mother to the countless descendants that God had promised. So she laughs.

The Lord asks: "Why did Sarah laugh?

Sarah has often been criticized for this laughter. As if she simply lacked faith, or as if she should have immediately believed. But I think Sarah deserves more grace than she often receives.

Imagine carrying the burden of infertility for decades in a culture where your entire worth is tied to being able to produce children. Imagine hearing promises year after year that had yet to come to fruition. Imagine enduring disappointment after disappointment as you watched the years pass.

What kind of laughter emerges from that experience?

Perhaps it is disbelief.

Perhaps it is weariness.

Perhaps it is self-protection.

Perhaps it is the laughter of someone who has learned not to hope too much because hope can hurt.

I imagine that many of us understand that kind of laughter. The laughter that becomes a shield to grief or fear. Laughter that emerges because crying feels too painful. Laughter because we don't know what else to do. Laughter because reality seems absurd. Sarah's laughter feels honest. She doesn't pretend or fake certainty. She responds exactly as many of us would.

When confronted, Sarah denies laughing. The issue is not that God is offended by laughter. The issue is that Sarah suddenly realizes she has been seen completely.

God heard the laugh no one else heard.

God knows the hidden grief she carries.

God knows her secret doubts.

God knows her exhausted heart.

And then comes the question that sits at the very center of the story.

Is anything too wonderful for the Lord?" That question echoes across the centuries. “Is anything too wonderful for the Lord?” We might think that Sarah and Abraham are too old. We ourselves might have given up because too much time passed since we first prayed. We might have come to the belief that our situation is hopeless.

But is anything too wonderful for the Lord? Time and time again throughout Scripture, the answer is a resounding NO.

The Red Sea seemed impossible.

Goliath seemed impossible.

Walking on water seemed impossible.

Resurrection seemed impossible.

The many languages spoken at Pentecost might have seemed impossible

Yet again and again God accomplishes what human beings cannot. This doesn't mean God fulfills every wish exactly as we imagine. But it does mean that God's power is never limited by our circumstances. With God all things are possible.

So we fast forward about a year into Chapter 21, and there after all the waiting. After the doubt and the uncertainty. After all the years. We hear these beautiful words: "The Lord dealt with Sarah as he had said, and the Lord did for Sarah as he had promised."

Notice how deliberate the wording is. The narrator wants us to understand exactly what has happened. This is not luck or coincidence. This is God's faithfulness.

God has done exactly what God promised.

Not according to Abraham's timeline. Not according to Sarah's timeline. Not according to the timeline that made sense for the human body as we know it, but at the appointed time, according to God's timeline.

That phrase speaks deeply to anyone who has ever waited. Because waiting is one of the hardest parts of faith. We often want immediate answers. Immediate healing. Immediate solutions. Immediate clarity.

But Scripture repeatedly reminds us that God's timing and our timing are not always the same. Abraham and Sarah waited decades. Yet God's promise never disappeared. God's faithfulness never expired. And when the appointed time arrived, the promise became reality.

I want to take us just a bit farther beyond the passage that was read today because it is one of the most beautiful moments in the story. Sarah speaks and says: "God has brought laughter for me; everyone who hears will laugh with me."

Did you catch the transformation? In Genesis 18 Sarah laughed because the promise seemed impossible. In Genesis 21 Sarah laughs because the promise has come true. The laughter has changed from a protective shield to a freedom to rejoice. The child is named Isaac which means “laughter.” Think about that. God permanently builds laughter into the story. Every time Sarah calls her son's name, she remembers. Every time Abraham calls his son's name, he remembers. Every time someone says "Isaac," they are reminded of the laughter that moved from doubt to joy. From shame to praise.

There is something profoundly beautiful about that. God does not erase Sarah's laughter. God transforms it. Laughter that started in shame becomes a point of rejoicing. It becomes the reminder of God’s promise being kept. That means there is sacred space in our faith for honest emotions. For questions and uncertainty. For wondering and waiting. For laughter and especially for joy.

Sometimes Christians act as though holiness must always look serious, but Scripture tells a different story. There is holy joy.

Holy delight.

Holy celebration.

Holy laughter.

The story of Isaac reminds us that laughter can be sacred. Joy can be holy. Celebration can be worship. Sarah's final laughter is not cynical. It is grateful. It is out of amazement and thanksgiving. It is worship.

I fully believe that every story in scripture is there to help us learn or understand something, so what do we learn from this story? We learn that hospitality creates space for holy encounters. We learn that God keeps promises. We learn that nothing is too hard or impossible for God. And we learn that even laughter born from doubt can become laughter filled with praise.

Perhaps today some of us are living in a Genesis 21 season; rejoicing at answered prayers. Reassured of God’s faithfulness and presence in our lives. Renewed in our hope.

Or perhaps today some of us are living in a season of Genesis 18. Still waiting. Still wondering. Still laughing nervously at promises that seem impossible.

If that is where you are, remember Sarah. Remember that God was still working when she could not yet see it. Remember that God remained faithful during the waiting. Remember that God answered promises even when they seemed impossible. Whatever season you find yourself in today. Laugh.

Because the God who met Abraham and Sarah beneath the oaks of Mamree is still meeting people today. Still speaking through unexpected messengers. Still keeping promises. Still doing what seems impossible. And still turning the laughter of doubt into the laughter of joy and praise.

Thanks be to God.