Jesus Isn't Decaf (By Naomi Meyers)

Nothing had gone according to plan. His well-laid scheme to add yet another beautiful woman to his already full household had gone historically awry. Never had a woman given him such trouble. In truth, this one hadn’t, either. She’d been the model houseguest. Quietly settled into her quarters. Allowed the beauty treatments. Eaten the abundant food. Endured the sidelong glances of her predecessors. Not one complaint had crossed her lips. Not once had she spoken out of turn. Never had she objected. Not even when she should have. Her beautiful lips had stayed sealed for the duration of her visit. Something should have told him her silence concealed a gutting secret. 

Abimelek would never forget the first time he saw her. How could he? His head had never swiveled so far, so quickly. He’d strained his neck in the gawking. She was breathtaking! Literally. That first glimpse had the air leaving his lungs in a whoosh of exhalation and his brain forgetting to initiate the reciprocal inhale. Never had he seen a woman so lovely! And he’d seen his share of women. Wives. Prospective wives. Concubines. Servants. He paid attention to every female crossing his path. Noticed every flaw. Saw every slouch. Prided himself in his connoisseurial ability in the arena. Yet never had he seen one so gorgeous as the sister of Abraham. 

Sarah. The very thought of her evoked a wistful sigh. He wanted her from the moment he saw her. Flawless skin. Perfect teeth. Confident carriage. Tinkling laugh. No matter the number of wives and concubines already lining his hallways, Abimelek knew he’d never erase her memory. She’d be the jewel in his crown. He had to have her, had to at least attempt to make her his own. So he did.  

With barely a flick of his wrist, Abimelek sent his officials to escort Sarah back to the palace. She’d come without a fuss. Abraham, her brother, hadn’t put up a struggle, either. No one said anything to indicate their relationship was other than purported. There was no lingering goodbye, no falling tears, no looks of anguish at the separation. Abimelek had no idea he’d just stolen Abraham’s wife. He had no clue he was headed down an adulterous path. He was wholly unaware that, with one poor decision, he had placed himself and his household directly in the crosshairs of God’s judgment. Not until the dream.

It was a nightmare, really. Not only the dream. The whole situation. The beautiful woman he’d so lustfully gathered to be part of his harem was married. To Abraham. The same man who had stoically stood by and watched the officials escort Sarah toward the palace. He hadn’t even flinched! Had raised not one objection. Had withheld the truth with callous disregard for the woman he allegedly loved. Mute, he’d simply stood and watched! Abimelek had words for men like that. Descriptive words. “Pathetic selfish coward” was near the top. Knowing the truth, both of Sarah’s marital status and what Abimelek had in store for her, Abraham hadn’t moved to rescue obedient Sarah from Abimelek, nor had he tried to rescue innocent Abimelek from God’s wrath. No. He just stood there, hanging on to the unraveling facade he’d concocted, and watched his “sister” walk away. 

Abimelek wished Abraham had stopped him. Seriously. He wished he’d said something, anything to make him rethink his choice of bride. He’d much rather have had a startling confrontation in person than a terrifying reckoning with God in his sleep. Sarah was married?! He felt like such a heel. He’d had no idea. Thank God (quite literally) for that irritating litany of pre-marriage rituals!  How dark would be his situation, how horrible his punishment if Sarah’s God were not gracious and just! The eye of God had clearly been looking out for him. His hand had held him back, kept him from sin. Even in his ignorance, his innocence, when Abimelek had been blissfully unaware the path he was on would lead him into sin, God reached down and rescued him from certain destruction. He couldn’t be more grateful. 

Gratitude is a poor bandage for a damaged ego, though. He’d been made to look a fool. It stung. All of it. It didn’t seem fair. Abimelek would have treated Sarah with much more respect than Abraham had. He wouldn’t have let her go without a fight. He would have protected her, provided for her. The aircastles he’d built had them walking hand and hand into the sunset–or at least riding in matching chariots. He felt cheated. And, although he wanted to push out his lip and turn his face to the corner like a spoiled 4-year-old, he was man enough to be honest. About himself. About God. When he’d been impatient with the process, God was keeping him from sin. When his ability to circumvent royal customs was to no avail, God was protecting him from sin. When he was shaken awake by a disconcerting dream, God was watching out for his soul, his family, his future. When God woke him to say, “No,” it was a mercy. And, no matter how difficult it was to hear, regardless how much he wanted Sarah for his wife, no matter how hot his anger at Abraham’s lie burned, Abimelek couldn’t help but be grateful for the roadblock. God had kept him from sin. (Genesis 20)

It must have been outrageously difficult for Abimelek to watch Sarah walk away. No matter what he now knew, surely a part of his heart was still engaged. Anger didn’t cover it. Embarrassment didn’t thwart it. Fear of God didn’t eradicate it. It takes little effort to imagine the wistful sigh that escaped his lips as he sent her back to her husband. Why? Because we know that sigh. Intimately. We’ve pressed out the same breath ourselves. A breath of disappointment. A breath of pain. A melancholy exhalation that the thing we loved so deeply, had our hearts so firmly set upon, is not to be. Through tear-blurred eyes, we watch our dreams fade and find ourselves in the tension between angry bitterness and trusting gratitude. It is in that space where we find ourselves weighing the question, is God still good in spite of the enormous roadblock He placed in our path?

From the pages of his own biography, Abimelek would resoundingly answer in the affirmative. Indeed, it appears this is his first personal encounter with God. There’s no indication of a previous relationship with the Almighty. We have no proof the king was interested in a God not made from wood and stone. Abraham’s own words suggest as much when he admits he believed there to be no fear of God in the land of Gerar. They weren’t inundated with revivals and Bible studies, small groups and Christian workshops. Abimelek didn’t even know God. But God knew Abimelek. And God was faithful. To His own just character. To His love for Abimelek. To His nature of grace toward sinful humanity. When no one else would step up and do the right thing, God stepped in to right the wrong. He dropped a roadblock in Abimelek’s way, not to keep him from something pleasant, but to keep him from the unpleasant consequences of sin. (Genesis 20:11)

God, in unfailing love and undeserved mercy, does the same for us. There are a million things in life we want so badly. Good things. Attainable things. Friendships. Relationships. Careers. Lifestyles. There’s really nothing wrong with any of those things. Except the ones that have the potential to draw us into sin. And most of them do. At least our obsession with them does. As we chase them down, we find ourselves spending less time with God and more time in the pursuit. It is often only the unbending roadblock that stops us in our tracks and keeps us from making enormous mistakes that would lead us into sin. We aren’t always grateful, but we should be. (I John 2:15-17)

We should be thankful that God is just and merciful, that He loves us too much to allow us to go haring off down whatever pathway strikes our fancy regardless of the oncoming damage. We should be grateful that God stops us, even if it is disappointing, even when it hurts, even if we can’t figure out why until decades later. Our hearts should swell with gratitude for every redeeming roadblock in our path because they underline God’s character. They resonate with the grandeur of God’s love for us. They exhibit His enormous grace. They highlight His justice in a world of injustice. They lavishly display His tender care, His unfailing kindness. In every roadblock, every “no”, we can clearly see the new and unending redemptive mercy of our ever-faithful God. (Lamentations 3:21-26, 31-33; Psalm 78:38; Nehemiah 9:31; Psalm 145:8; Deuteronomy 32:4)

There used to be a frequently quoted phrase to the effect of, “The Bible will keep you from sin, or sin will keep you from the Bible.” I don’t know the truth of that quote. It seems a lot of folks read the Bible, put their own twist on it, and sin anyway. I do, however, know this. The God of the Bible can keep you from sin. If you obey His voice when He speaks. It might be a still, small whisper. It might be an illuminating dream. It may be a river of peace erupting from an unexpected roadblock. But He will speak. His very character demands it. And, when He does, I hope you listen. I hope you obey His voice. I hope you allow Him, without explanation or excuse, to keep you from sinning. I hope you see the redemption in the roadblock and gratefully set your feet to walk only in His paths. I hope you know, truly understand, and fully believe that the “no” is not an act of punishment, but a means of grace. Redemptive grace. Grace to keep you from sinning and rescue your soul from death. (Psalm 19:13; Psalm 119:112; Jeremiah 7:23; Psalm 85:8; Isaiah 30:21; John 8:47; John 10:27; John 14:26; Hebrews 4:12; Revelation 3:20)