Hagar’s Escape from Sarai — When Duty Outweighs Self Preservation

Today I was reading Genesis 16:7–9, a portion of Scripture that captures Hagar’s escape from Sarai. Verse 6 sets the stage: Sarai “dealt harshly” with her, and in response, Hagar ran away.

Let’s just pause and imagine the scene for a moment.

Hagar was pregnant. Perhaps she was nauseous, exhausted, emotionally drained. I don’t know what time of day she fled, or how much she carried with her—though I can’t imagine it was much. Her energy must have been low. She was probably weeping as she ran. And we need to remember—she was already in a foreign land. An Egyptian woman, likely brought into service when Abram and Sarai had visited Egypt, now escaping into the unknown wilderness.

Eventually, she found a spring. Maybe she caught her breath there, rested in the shade, quenched her thirst. In that lonely, desperate place, the angel of the Lord found her.

That phrase stuck with me—He found her.

I wonder what that moment looked like. Did the angel appear in radiant glory? Maybe not, because unlike many other angelic encounters in the Bible, Hagar doesn’t seem frightened. Perhaps he appeared as a man—after all, desert springs would be common rest stops, and it wouldn’t have been unusual to find someone else there.

But what stands out most is the way the angel addresses her:

“Hagar, servant of Sarai, where have you come from and where are you going?”

He knew her name. He knew her position. He knew exactly who she was.

That must have startled her. In those times, perhaps running away from a master was even considered a crime. So maybe she had tried to keep her identity hidden. But she doesn’t. She answers honestly, without defensiveness or justification. She doesn’t mention Sarai’s harsh treatment—only that she’s fleeing. It’s as if she realizes: If he already knows my name and my place, maybe he knows my pain too.

Then comes the angel’s response—stark, unsettling, lacking empathy:

“Return to your mistress and submit to her.”

At first glance, this feels harsh, even unkind. She was mistreated, she was vulnerable, and now she’s being told to go back? And not just return—but to submit?

But this is where the deeper truth begins to emerge.

This command reminds me of what Jesus said: “If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself, take up his cross, and follow me.”

The Christian life (life of promise) was never promised to be comfortable. Sometimes, God calls us not to escape suffering, but to endure it—because there is a greater purpose behind it. 

Romans 5:3-5 says:

We can rejoice, too, when we run into problems and trials, for we know that they help us develop endurance. And endurance develops strength of character, and character strengthens our confident hope of salvation. And this hope will not lead to disappointment. For we know how dearly God loves us, because he has given us the Holy Spirit to fill our hearts with his love.

God doesn’t always prioritize our comfort. He prioritizes our calling.

And like Hagar, we will often feel like fleeing—fleeing the discomfort, the pain, the injustice. We may convince ourselves that self-preservation is wisdom. But in the kingdom of God, duty often outweighs comfort, and obedience sometimes leads us back to places we would rather avoid.

The apostle Paul said, “I am being poured out like a drink offering.”

Jesus Himself poured out His life—even unto death on a cross—not for comfort, but for obedience and love.

So I ask myself today:

Have I followed His example?

Have I placed duty, calling, and obedience above my own need for security and ease?

Let this be our encouragement as we walk the narrow road:

God sees. God knows. God finds us in the wilderness.

And even when He sends us back into hard places, we can go knowing we are not alone.

Let’s be willing to pour ourselves out in service of our Savior. He sees. And that is enough.