Genesis 16:7-13 - "The Angel of the LORD and the Outcast"

Genesis 16: 7-13

"And the angel of the LORD found her by a fountain of water in the wilderness, by the fountain in the way to Shur. And he said, Hagar, Sarai's maid, whence camest thou? and whither wilt thou go? And she said, I flee from the face of my mistress Sarai. And the angel of the LORD said unto her, Return to thy mistress, and submit thyself under her hands. And the angel of the LORD said unto her, I will multiply thy seed exceedingly, that it shall not be numbered for multitude. And the angel of the LORD said unto her, Behold, thou art with child and shalt bear a son, and shalt call his name Ishmael; because the LORD hath heard thy affliction. And he will be a wild man; his hand will be against every man, and every man's hand against him; and he shall dwell in the presence of all his brethren. And she called the name of the LORD that spake unto her, Thou God seest me: for she said, Have I also here looked after him that seeth me?"

In the quiet wilderness, by a fountain on the way to Shur, a lonely, desperate woman was met by the Angel of the LORD. Hagar, the Egyptian servant, had fled from affliction and reproach, carrying with her only sorrow and fear. Yet there, in her lowest estate, the LORD sought her out. The passage before us is among the first in Scripture where the Angel of the LORD appears, and it records one of the most tender revelations of God’s heart. To the outcast, He shows Himself as the God Who sees.

Genesis 16:7–13 directs us to consider both the condescension of God's grace and the nearness of God in the midst of affliction. It is not Hagar who finds Him, but He who finds Hagar. The fountain becomes a meeting place between misery and mercy, between human weakness and divine compassion. And the name that Hagar gives—El Roi, “Thou God seest me”—is a testimony for every believer who has felt forgotten, forsaken, or cast aside.

Hagar fled into the wilderness, having been despised, mistreated, and cast off. Sarai’s cruelty collided with Hagar’s pride, and with nowhere to go she simply ran. Yet in running from her mistress, she could not run from the LORD. “The angel of the LORD found her by a fountain of water in the wilderness” (Genesis 16:7). This angel was no mere messenger. The Angel of the LORD is none other than the LORD Himself — a pre-incarnate appearance of the LORD Jesus Christ. We see Him later in Genesis 22 with Abram, in Exodus 3 with Moses, in Judges with Gideon, and even with Samson’s parents. Over and over, the Angel of the LORD comes to meet His people. And here, He comes to Hagar — alone, weak, hopeless. This gracious manifestation of Christ Himself reveals Him as the One Who comes to the weary and heavy-laden, and speaks life to the soul. Here is a well of comfort in the desert of our need as outcast sinners, where we may drink deeply Christ the Water of Life and that our God both sees and knows us, and in Christ, remembers us with mercy. Isn’t that just how the LORD Jesus Christ comes to us? Not when we are strong, but when we are weak. Not when we have something to offer, but when we are at our lowest. As the LORD Jesus said, “They that are whole have no need of the physician, but they that are sick: I came not to call the righteous, but sinners to repentance” (Mark 2:17).

The LORD asked her, “Whence comest thou? and whither wilt thou go?” (Genesis 16:8). He knew the answer already, but He drew it out of her, just as He drew confession from the woman at the well in John 4. Hagar admits, “I flee from the face of my mistress.” How often our own hearts do the same — fleeing instead of submitting, resisting instead of trusting. But the LORD’s Word to her is both hard and merciful: “Return to thy mistress, and submit thyself under her hands” (Genesis 16:9). Repentance means turning back. Her mind was going one way — away — but the LORD called her to turn around. That is grace, not punishment. To return, to submit, to quit taking matters into her own hands.

And with the command came a promise: “I will multiply thy seed exceedingly, that it shall not be numbered for multitude” (v. 10). “Behold, thou art with child, and shalt bear a son, and shalt call his name Ishmael; because the Lord hath heard thy affliction” (v. 11). Ishmael — “God will hear.” Before this child was even born, God named him, showing His sovereignty. Just as He named Isaac before his birth, and just as He named His own Son Jesus — “for He shall save His people from their sins” (Matthew 1:21).

Yet even in the promise, God foretold Ishmael’s nature: “He will be a wild man; his hand will be against every man, and every man’s hand against him” (v. 12). Nations would war, conflicts would last for centuries. And still, the LORD was directing every step. Nothing was out of place. And here is the wonder: Hagar, an Egyptian servant woman, far from home, despised and despairing, is the first in Scripture to give God a name. She called Him El Roi — “Thou God seest me” (v. 13). She testifies, “Have I also here looked after Him that seeth me?” She thought she was forgotten, but the LORD had His eye on her all along. The God Who sees. The God Who knows the end from the beginning. The God Whose foreknowledge is not passive sight but sovereign decree. Our steps and our stops are ordered of the Lord. Even in her flight, He purposed mercy.

And so, we see how this passage draws us to Christ. He is the Angel of the LORD Who meets sinners in the wilderness. He is the God Who sees us in our weakness. He is the sovereign One Who directs every step — even the missteps — for His purpose. And He is the merciful Savior Who names us His own before we are born, Who calls us not to flee but to return, not to despair but to trust.

Let us rest in Him today. For the LORD Who saw Hagar sees you. And the God Who met her by the spring meets us in Christ Jesus, with mercy, with direction, and with unfailing sovereignty.