When spiritual leaders hurt others
Looking at humanity, I tend to expect bad news. I know I’m a mess; I’m capable of absolute darkness. But when I look at the church I expect unity, humility, righteousness. In light of the #metoo movement, the #churchtoo movement, and recent allegations of hidden sexual abuse and scandal from large Christian organizations and respected leaders, it is clear that the church is not above the same corrupting evil that is in the world. Power and money talk, and out of fear or disbelief people listen.
Yet I know the gospel is paradoxically a message of weakness, humility, care. Did not Christ fulfill Isaiah’s prophecy saying:
“The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to proclaim good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim liberty to the captives and the recovering of sight to the blind, to set at liberty those who are oppressed, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor” (Luke 4:18-19).
He made a practice of moving toward the outcast, the broken, the unwell, the underprivileged, the impoverished – all at great cost to his personal well-being and reputation. Have we forgotten his gentleness, his lowliness, his resistance to the cultural narrative of self-preservation and ease?
God’s presence: mirage or miracle?
Hagar was a victim of oppression and exploitation. She was used for her body, her youth, to demand an answer from a God that Sarah perceived to be slow in fulfilling His promise. Abraham played the part of an active user but moved quickly into disinterested passivity. Hagar’s subsequent pregnancy was the only thing that set her apart as valuable in the eyes of her oppressors. She flaunted this one trophy of success, and Sarah hated her for it. Abraham sat back, not caring enough to be bothered with the wellbeing of his unborn child’s mother.
So, Hagar ran. Into the desert, towards her distant home of Egypt – alone, afraid, more eager to die in the wilderness than face continued mistreatment from her abusers. She was desperate and did not believe anyone cared whether she lived or died. Abraham had given her no positive witness of the God that he served, caving in to the pressures of his wife and the neighboring tribes. He was called a friend of God, and yet apparently, he hated her.
Why would Abraham’s God come to Hagar – a woman, a slave, an Egyptian with nothing to offer? And yet God saw her. He appeared to Hagar; not a rich man of the chosen race, as she would have expected. Her response in Genesis 16:13 is one of awe and belief: “You are a God of seeing,” and, “Truly, here I have seen him who looks after me.” Hagar knew without a shadow of doubt who had showed up to her in her misery and loneliness, and she was no longer afraid.
When God commanded her to return to her abusers, shockingly she obeyed. No, their abuse was not warranted. But when God revealed Himself to Hagar, her fear and hatred of man was replaced by awe and faith in this mysterious and good God. It’s as if she already knew the words of Christ that He would speak centuries later to His disciples in Matthew 28:18-20: “Go…. And behold, I am with you always.”
Hagar went boldly. My guess is that when Abraham saw her, he recognized the unmistakable evidence that she too had been visited by this living God who had made a divine covenant with him in the previous chapter. He was probably terrified, and rightly so. God saw Hagar in her pain and did not stand still; God saw Abraham in his sin and gave him an opportunity to repent and take responsibility for his actions.
Hope for the hurting
This wild story gives us hope when leaders fail because of Hagar’s God. He shepherded her, protected her, and empowered her to follow Him in spite of her circumstances. He corrected Abraham in his sin and gave him an opportunity for godly repentance – to turn in humility towards those he had wounded. Abraham received Hagar back into his home, provided for her and his son, and presumably listened when she spoke of her divine encounter. After all, if there were no witnesses, how else would we know about it except that Abraham believed?
The true Gospel does not sit nicely in manmade categories. The true God does not have hands tied by the sin of humanity. The true Church does not shirk from the audacity and humility of Christ’s call: “follow me.” May the Church follow him into this paradoxical courage, making space for the stories of the hurting, calling sinners to repentance, choosing courage over comfort in the face of evil.
Rebecca Faulks is a nurse, seminary student, and member at Mosaic Boston church in Boston, MA.
