CRITICAL NOTES.—
Genesis 16:13. The name of the Lord.] Heb. The name of Jehovah. Thou, God, seest me. Heb. Thou art the God of vision, or rather “of visibility”—who dost cause Thyself to be seen—dost manifest Thyself. Have I also here looked after Him that seeth me? Heb. Have I here seen after the vision; or, The back parts of my seer—of Him who saw me. (Exodus 33:23.) The general sense is plain—“Thou art still to me a God whom I, yet unpunished, saw: for, although I saw Thee, I still live and see the light of day.”
Genesis 16:14. Beer-lahai-roi.] “The fountain for the life of beholding.” The name embodied the idea of the last verse. It was the well of seeing God, and yet living. Kadesh and Bered. It is said that the site of this well has lately been discovered. Its present name is Mai-lahhi-Hagar. Mai means water, being equivalent to Beer—a well. It lies twelve miles from Kadesh. Near it is a ruin, now called Beit Hagar (House of Hagar). A full account of this discovery is found in Williams’ Holy City.
MAIN HOMILETICS OF THE PARAGRAPH.— Genesis 16:13-14
THE RETROSPECT OF A SPECIAL PROVIDENCE
Hagar had heard the voice of the Lord, and had distinct evidence of His providential care and regard. She was appointed to take a remarkable position and importance in the history of mankind. Now, when the surprise of this visitation is over, she has time calmly to reflect upon God’s gracious dealings—to take a retrospect of His special Providence, of which two things are here asserted:—
I. That it is a revelation of God. “She called the name of the Lord that spake unto her, Thou God seest me.” God in His ultimate essence is invisible, and His nature is mysterious beyond the reaches of our souls. But God is pleased to reveal himself to some extent in His works and in human history, and to a still greater extent by a distinct voice from heaven, either as uttered to individuals or as expressed in the language of inspiration. The doctrine of a general Providence affects us languidly; the impression of it is vague; but there are times in our history when the events are so remarkable that it is as if God had spoken. His finger is plainly seen. To Hagar, the thought of this was more vivid; for she heard an audible voice, and saw the form of an angel, which was to her as the face of God. This revelation of God had three aspects.
1. It was severe. Hagar was reminded of her fault, and exhorted to instant duty. When God distinctly speaks, there must be a severe element in the voice, because He is holy and His creature is sinful.
2. It was soothing. God abounds in mercy, and speaks, not to afflict His creatures, but to assure them of His favour and compassion. But for this, the revelation of God would only alarm us and throw an awful light upon our misery. It is because God “has heard our affliction” that He speaks to us.
3. It produces the impression that God knows us
(1) intimately. Sight imparts most vivid and extensive knowledge. One glance conveys more to the mind than the most accurate and laboured description. God not only sees us, but sees through us, and knows us altogether. When we feel that we are thus thoroughly known in the inmost recesses of our soul we recognise the presence of God
(2) graciously. God sees us for good and not for evil. Were it not for this the thought of His piercing eye would overwhelm us. But the eye that looks upon us is kind. The light of love is in God’s countenance.
II. That it should excite amazement and gratitude.
1. Amazement. Hagar cried, “Have I also here looked after Him that seeth me?” It was a special privilege vouchsafed by Almighty God to one so obscure and miserable. It was far beyond the measure of His ordinary dealings with mankind. She saw but the hidings of God’s face, and yet she wondered that she could still see (i.e. live) after the vision. The thought of God when manifestly brought home to the soul is overpowering. It would seem as if when God appears that there is no room for any but Himself—that the glory of the self-existent One would quench all else. God declared to Moses that “no man should see His face alive.” (Exodus 33:20.) Even he could but see the subdued glory of God, and could only endure by a special privilege. This feeling of awe lies at the root of all religion. It is the property of the childlike nature when the feelings are fresh and healthy. Those who affect to be superior to every feeling of awe and wonder put themselves out of sympathy with all that is spiritual and Divine.
2. Gratitude. The “well” was called Beer-lahai-roi, or well of life of vision; i.e., of life after a vision of God. This name was given by universal consent, for it was the memorial of God’s special kindness. After every manifestation of God, wonder resolves itself into praise. Where He appears, a well springs up in the wilderness to refresh our souls, and to impart the impulse of perpetual joy and thanksgiving.
SUGGESTIVE COMMENTS ON THE VERSES
Genesis 16:13-14. Hagar gratefully acknowledges the interposition of God as a very present help in trouble. It was the Lord, Jehovah, that came to her rescue. It was no created angel, but the very Messenger of the Covenant Himself, the Lord, the Eternal God. As such, Hagar hails this heavenly visitor: “Thou regardest the low estate of thy handmaiden.” And she seems to dwell on the seasonable and unlooked-for promptness of the help afforded: “Have I also here looked after Him that seeth me?” Was I looking out for Him? Or did His gracious Providence surprise me, and His gracious eye almost startle me, when He sought out one, alas! too far gone in hardness of heart ever to have thought of seeking Him? It is undoubtedly a memorable crisis in her history if it be rightly followed up and followed out. Truly may the well be called “the well of Him that liveth and seeth me”—of the living God who looketh on my affliction; and justly may the child be named “Ishmael,” as the token that “the Lord will hear” the cry of the oppressed, and deliver the fainting soul.—(Candlish.)
Under the old Covenant such manifestations of God were only given to Moses, to Hagar, and to some others. But under the new Covenant, God was revealed in His Son. Men saw their invisible Maker and Judge. The special care of God for each individual man was seen in the gracious ministry of our Lord on earth.
A particular Providence.
1. Difficult to believe. We imagine God as working upon a large plan, but not as seeing and caring for individuals. It is not easy to bring ourselves to the belief that He is “about our path, and about our bed, and spieth out all our ways.” We think of God in heaven, and forget that He is also on earth. What an effect it would have upon our lives if we really believed that God sees, and hears, and notes down everything we do!
2. Sufficiently attested by examples in Holy Scripture. Under the law we have many instances of God’s special dealings with some men. The whole history of the Jewish people was an example of a particular Providence. All this is intended to show us God’s care and concern for each man. In the Bible this doctrine is demonstrated in a few selected instances, so that we might learn the principles upon which God rules the whole world of mankind.
3. Made clear and certain by the history of our Lord’s work on earth. Christ was the “image of the invisible God,” making known to us what God is, and how He feels towards mankind. In this ministry on earth He showed us how each man is known and cared for; how the sorrows and wants of each touch the heart of infinite love. He spoke distinctly to men, and for the time (as it were) concentrated all His power and grace upon them.
4. Realised in the history of every believer. The Christian believes not only in God’s great love towards all mankind, but can say with St. Paul, “Christ loved me, and gave Himself for me.” He knows that Divine love is not a vague feeling towards the mass of mankind, but a distinct affection for each. His own heart has answered to that love. The Shepherd of his soul has called him by name. He can no longer doubt that God knows and remembers him, and orders all his ways.
God beholds thee, individually, whoever thou art. He “calls thee by name.” He knows what is in thee, all thy own peculiar feelings and thoughts, thy dispositions and likings, thy strength and thy weakness. He views thee in thy day of rejoicing, and thy day of sorrow. He sympathises in thy hopes and thy temptations. He interests Himself in all thy anxieties and remembrances, all the risings and fallings of thy spirit. He has numbered the very hairs of thy head and the cubits of thy stature. He compasses thee round and bears thee in His arms; He takes thee up and sets thee down. He notes thy very countenance, whether smiling or in tears, whether healthful or sickly. He looks tenderly upon thy hands and thy feet; He hears thy voice, the beating of thy heart, and thy very breathing. Thou art not only His creature; thou art man redeemed and sanctified, His adopted son, favoured with a portion of that glory and blessedness which flows from Him everlastingly unto the Only-begotten. Thou wast one of those for whom Christ offered up His last prayer and sealed it with His precious blood. What a thought is this, a thought almost too great for our faith!—(J. H. Newman.)
“Thou God seest me.” Pause for a moment to contemplate the force of this impressive thought. Life is spent beneath the eye of God. In every part of His dominion, in all the worlds He has formed, His never-closing eye is present, His creative power is felt. The beams of His all-observant thought surround us. His omnipresence has been compared to a circle whose centre is everywhere, and whose circumference is nowhere. God, said the Greeks, is “All Eye.” It is not the feeble and changing glance of fickle guilty man, but it is the pure and perfect scrutiny of the Eternal God, “in whose hand our breath is.” His smile is life. His frown despair. Everything depends upon it. “Thou God seest me.” Then it is not a vague and general observation, but a particular and minute notice—the sinner in his guilt equally with the Christian in his devotions—the peasant in his cottage equally with the prince on his throne. Not the actions only, but the principles, “me”—all that constitutes our essence, all that forms our character, the interior recesses of the spirit, the hidden motives of the heart, the secret springs of the character. This thought may be one—
1. Of grandeur. With respect to God—His infinite dominion—His immense survey. With respect to man—his dignity—his responsibility—his destiny—he must, some day, come immediately before this Being.
2. Of terror. We are never safe. Sin cannot be even thought of without being known. Think of this when temptation invites. There is no darkness which can hide from God.
3. Of consolation in sorrow. He sees with a Father’s eye which fills with compassion. He sees our sin and folly, and the sorrows of our repentance. He know all the trouble of our spirit and our desires to be purer and better.
4. Of hope in danger. He sees, not to increase our misery, but to help and save. When we are at our worst estate, when our grief is at its height, when the world fails us and casts us off—then is God’s gracious opportunity and the time of His appearing to comfort us with His love. He sends His Covenant Angel to succour this desolate woman. None need despair, since God thus helps the outcast and the miserable.
The believer finds a well in the wilderness where Christ appears to strengthen and console. Memory afterwards returns to that, as the first bright-spot in the soul’s history.
The vision of God is the beginning of spiritual life.
Nomus, one of the heathen gods, is said to have complained of Vulcan, that he had not set a grate at every man’s breast. God hath a glazed window in the darkest houses of clay; He sees what is done in them, when none other can. To God’s omnipotence there is nothing impossible; and to God’s omniscience there is nothing invisible.—(Secker.)
The celebrated Linnaeus acknowledged the omniscience of God by placing over the door of the hall in which he gave his lectures, the inscription, Innocui vivate! Numen adest. Live guiltless! God is present.
“Have I also here looked after Him that seeth me?” On Hagar’s part, this was the language of admiration, gratitude, devotion, love. Have I here in the desert, as contrasted with Abram’s home where visions were to be looked for—for the visions of God were with him—here where I least expected them, and when I was out of the way of duty!