02/01/2026 - Genesis 18:1-15

Scripture: Genesis 18:1-15

The Lord appeared to Abraham at the oaks of Mamre while he sat at the entrance of his tent in the day’s heat. He looked up and suddenly saw three men standing near him. As soon as he saw them, he ran from his tent entrance to greet them and bowed deeply.  He said, “Sirs, if you would be so kind, don’t just pass by your servant. Let a little water be brought so you may wash your feet and refresh yourselves under the tree. Let me offer you a little bread so you will feel stronger, and after that you may leave your servant and go on your way—since you have visited your servant.”

They responded, “Fine. Do just as you have said.”

So Abraham hurried to Sarah at his tent and said, “Hurry! Knead three seahs of the finest flour and make some baked goods!” Abraham ran to the cattle, took a healthy young calf, and gave it to a young servant, who prepared it quickly. Then Abraham took butter, milk, and the calf that had been prepared, put the food in front of them, and stood under the tree near them as they ate.

They said to him, “Where’s your wife Sarah?”

And he said, “Right here in the tent.”

Then one of the men said, “I will definitely return to you about this time next year. Then your wife Sarah will have a son!”

Sarah was listening at the tent door behind him. Now Abraham and Sarah were both very old. Sarah was no longer menstruating. So Sarah laughed to herself, thinking, I’m no longer able to have children and my husband’s old.

The Lord said to Abraham, “Why did Sarah laugh and say, ‘Me give birth? At my age?’ Is anything too difficult for the Lord? When I return to you about this time next year, Sarah will have a son.”

Sarah lied and said, “I didn’t laugh,” because she was frightened.

But he said, “No, you laughed.”

~

This passage can be a difficult one to read, especially for couples who’ve experienced infertility. It seems as if all Abraham and Sarah had to do was trust in God, and they would get the child that they wanted.

Except that’s not how faith works, and I’m not sure that’s how it’s supposed to work here either.

For one thing, this isn’t the first time God has promised that Abraham and Sarah will have a child. God first does that back in Genesis 12, before Abraham even makes a covenant to follow God in Genesis 15. So this isn’t a transaction, where in exchange for following and trusting God, God will give them a child. God’s already said that they will have one.

Well, God’s already told Abraham that he will have a son. As far as we’re aware, this is the first time Sarah’s hearing of it. There’s no mention of Abraham having talked to Sarah about God’s promises before this moment. And that’s what we’re going to focus on today.

So let’s go through this passage from Sarah’s viewpoint.

In the heat of the day she’s in hers and Abraham’s tent, trying to escape the hot desert sun. Her husband is sitting at the entrance, maybe trying to catch any cool breeze that floats by. Maybe she’s taking a nap, trying to sleep through the worst of the oppressive heat before she has to cook the evening meal - not a small feat over an open fire in the heat of the desert.

But all of a sudden her husband bursts back into the tent and shakes her awake. He tells her to get quite a bit of their best flour that’s normally reserved for special occasions, knead it, and bake some bread.

Like she doesn’t know how to bake bread and hasn’t been doing it for most of her life.

But before she can ask any questions, he darts back out of the tent. So Sarah pulls herself off of her mat, probably grumbling! It’s still the heat of the day, and now she has to lean over a hot fire to bake even more bread? For some reason that her husband hasn’t even told her?

Now most likely she would’ve surmised that guests had appeared, and Abraham was running around to get the things together that they needed to show hospitality to their guests. Hospitality was a very important part of the culture, especially given that travelers could die without it. Without hotels and inns, travelers were dependent on the hospitality of communities they came across. Hosting someone in your home was seen as a mark of a good person, and brought honor to a household that could afford to feed, shelter, and protect somebody looking for a place to stay. And by the mention of servants and the herd, Abraham and Sarah can definitely afford to host travelers well.

So Sarah gets to work kneading and baking the bread. Shortly after she’s joined by a servant who’s been ordered to prepare a calf for the impromptu feast. Maybe she’d already had plans for that calf, but those don’t clearly don’t matter now that Abraham’s got a different plan for it. But eventually they get the meal together. Abraham returns to retrieve it and deliver it to the guests, as if he’s the one who’d worked on the feast for the past hour or so!

Sarah isn’t even invited to join them to eat the food that she made!

So she hides behind the flaps of the entrance to the tent, where she can hear but remain unseen. She wants to know what guests have arrived. Who are they? Why have they been traveling in the heat of the day? Why are they here?

So she hides and listens in to their polite conversation as the three strangers eat. She strains to hear against the sounds of the herds lowing in the distance, and because, well, she is 90 years old. Her hearing isn’t the best anymore.

But she doesn’t recognize the voices, and she doesn’t recognize the names that they give to Abraham. So they’re strangers. Maybe now she’s beginning to suspect that the men didn’t approach Abraham for a meal and a place to stay, but instead Abraham ran out and invited them over.And maybe she’s getting a little mad at that fact that he invited them over and put all of the work on her and the servants when she hears one of the men ask for her by name.

He doesn’t ask Abraham where his wife is. He specifically asks where Sarah is.

A man she doesn’t know and doesn’t recognize is asking for her by name. No wonder she’s scared.

Abraham is honest about where she is - in the tent they’re eating right next to. And Sarah is frozen in fear and indecision - do the men want to talk to her? Should she step outside and say hello? No, she shouldn’t, it would be an admission that she was listening in.

And then she hears the men say that this time next year, they’ll be back to visit again. And she’ll have a son. A 90 year old woman will have a son.

No wonder Sarah laughs, it’s ridiculous! Someone who somehow knows her name when she has no clue who he is, is saying that she’s going to have a son?

She doesn’t even remember saying aloud “Me give birth? At my age?”

But God heard her say it. Heard her laugh about it. And God calls her out for it.

She denies it, of course, because she’s scared, which is understandable. There’s a voice now coming down from heaven that, as far as we know, she’s never heard from before.

But God insists. God knows what God heard.

Most scholars interpret this passage as one full of tension, an example of the push and pull of God’s will and humanity’s disbelief. And that’s a powerful interpretation, one that I think we can all relate to sometimes. We can read the promises of peace, love, and justice in the Bible, and look at the realities of the world, and see the discrepancy.

But often this story turns into one of condemnation of Sarah for not trusting in God. We’re taught to do the opposite, to trust in God no matter how ridiculous it is, and it’ll all work out the way it’s intended to.

But what if the reason God acknowledges Sarah’s laughter is not to condemn her for doing so?

Let’s imagine this setup again: Sarah is hiding at the entrance to the tent, listening in, when she suddenly hears the most ridiculous thing she’s heard all day. She’s going to have a son? Really?

She doesn’t mean to laugh, but it erupts out of her. She claps her hand over her mouth and silence falls. She knows they’ve heard her. She’s been caught listening in on their conversation.

Then, after a moment of silence, a voice from absolutely nowhere asks Abraham why Sarah laughed.

And Abraham, the person the question is addressed to, doesn’t respond. He just stands there, mouth fallen open, his face turning red.

After a beat of silence, Sarah speaks up since her husband sure isn’t. “I didn’t laugh,” she said.

And maybe God has to repress their own chuckle when they respond, “No you did. I heard you.”

What if this sitcom-esque moment is not condemning Sarah for laughing, but condemning Abraham for not sharing his experiences with God with his own wife, when she’s a big part of the story God is telling? Because this isn’t the first time Abraham is hearing this promise that they will have a son. But it’s clear from Sarah’s laughter that it’s her first time hearing it. So, maybe God is pointing out that God knows that Abraham hasn’t brought his wife into the story, even though she’s going to be a big part of it.

And maybe that’s why Abraham doesn’t respond. Because he knows he’s seriously messed up in not telling Sarah about what God has promised, and calling her into her own relationship with God, instead of just assuming she’s along for the ride no matter what.

I think we can suffer from a similar tendency today. We all have our own relationships with God, and we can see our faith as being something that’s all our own. Hopefully it’s something we share with people already in our churches, but we can be hesitant to talk about our faith outside of our church walls. And that’s understandable - having lived in the south and lower midwest for ten years, I have had plenty of people assume I held political and theological beliefs I don’t hold just because I told them I was a Christian.

But our faith is a part of our lives, and in the right situations, sharing our faith can lead to deeper friendships and deeper understanding of ourselves and others, even if we don’t agree on everything. Because we don’t have to share our faith like we need everyone to believe exactly what we believe. We can share our faith as an invitation for people to learn and grow in their own faith and spirituality, and offer them a place and a community to do that with.

Because even if others try to draw lines around who’s a “good Christian” and who’s not, who’s a faithful or spiritual person and who’s not, we don’t have to play those games. We can live out the truth that everyone’s faith journeys are different, and while we may have some beliefs and practices in common, we don’t have to agree on absolutely everything. Just enough that we can work together as a community to share God’s love with everyone.

And maybe by sharing our stories and our experiences, we can be the ones who help people who want to find their way to their next spiritual chapter. We shouldn’t assume we know where someone is heading, nor should we assume we can control where they are going. Because everyone does have their own faith journeys, but we were never meant to walk them alone.

So I hope you find ways to do what Abraham didn’t do, and share your faith experiences with others. Because it just might lead to a faith that’s all the richer, all the deeper, and all the more beautiful because of it.