Putting to Death the Flesh That Wants to Save Itself

Introduction

You received a promise from God. You believed it. Then the years went by. Nothing moved. So one day you tell yourself: "I'll help God out a little. I'll lend a hand." That's exactly what Abraham does in Genesis 16. At 85 years old, the promise of a son has been delayed for ten years. Sarah, his wife, offers a logical solution, socially acceptable, culturally normal: go through her servant Hagar. Abraham agrees. And that's when everything falls apart.

In this sermon from July 26, 2026, Judit opens Genesis 16:1-6 and asks a question that concerns you today: when the promise is delayed, do you let the flesh take the wheel? She calls this "putting to death the flesh that wants to save itself." This isn't a pious slogan. It's a daily choice, concrete, often painful, but always liberating.

Article Outline

1. Abraham, the father of faith who also failed

Before diving into Genesis 16, Judit takes time to place Abraham within his long story. Born in Ur of the Chaldeans into a well-off family, son of Terah the idol-maker, Abraham is a descendant of Shem, son of Noah. His wife is named Sarai, his half-sister on his father's side. His nephew is Lot. The son of the promise will be Isaac.

God appears to Abram in Genesis 12:1-3 and promises him: "Leave your country... I will make you into a great nation, I will bless you, I will make your name great." Abraham obeys at 75, without knowing where he's going. Later, God will change his name from Abram ("exalted father") to Abraham ("father of many"), in Genesis 17:3-5.

This same Abraham, called the "father of faith," nevertheless stumbled several times. Twice he passed Sarah off as his sister, out of fear of being killed because of her beauty. First before Pharaoh in Egypt (Genesis 12:11 and following), then before Abimelech in Gerar. His son Isaac will repeat the same lie before another Abimelech (Genesis 26:7-12). Judit notes: "When I first read that, I thought I'd flipped to the wrong page." No. The flesh has a genetic code that gets passed down.

2. Genesis 16:1-6: the decision that changes everything

Read the passage with her:

"Now Sarai, Abram's wife, had borne him no children. She had a female Egyptian servant whose name was Hagar. And Sarai said to Abram, 'Behold now, the Lord has prevented me from bearing children. Go in to my servant; it may be that I shall obtain children by her.' And Abram listened to the voice of Sarai. So, after Abram had lived ten years in the land of Canaan, Sarai, Abram's wife, took Hagar the Egyptian, her servant, and gave her to Abram her husband as a wife. And he went in to Hagar, and she conceived. And when she saw that she had conceived, she looked with contempt on her mistress. And Sarai said to Abram, 'May the wrong done to me be on you! I gave my servant to your embrace, and when she saw that she had conceived, she looked on me with contempt. May the Lord judge between you and me!' But Abram said to Sarai, 'Behold, your servant is in your power; do to her as you please.' Then Sarai dealt harshly with her, and she fled from her." (Genesis 16:1-6)

Sarah is about 75, Abraham 85. Ten years since they settled in Canaan. Ten years the promise has been delayed. When Sarah says, "The Lord has prevented me from bearing children," what do you hear in her voice? Judit invites the congregation to listen for the anger, the bitterness, the feeling of being despised by God, perhaps also the despair of a beautiful, proud woman with no child. She then offers a culturally ordinary solution: in the society of that time, a barren woman could give her servant to her husband in order to obtain an heir. Nothing socially shocking about it. Except that it directly contradicts the promise: God had said "I will give you a son through Sarah."

3. The flesh disguised as wisdom

Abraham agrees. Without debate. The biblical text reports it plainly: "Abram listened to the voice of Sarai." Judit asks: why? After ten years of waiting, he too had probably given up. He thought he had to help God accomplish what he had announced.

But God doesn't need our help. Judit uses a striking image: picture a writer producing a masterpiece. Would his pen cry out, "I'm the one who wrote this book!"? No. The pen is only a tool. The writer could use a different one. In the same way, God can use us as instruments, but he never needs us. It's we who need him.

What Abraham and Sarah needed was patience. "Wait for the Lord in silence," that's what the Lord was asking. Not human strategy, not acceleration, not a backup plan. Just perseverance in faith. Proverbs 3:6: "In all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make straight your paths."

4. The consequences of rushing ahead

Hagar conceives and begins to despise Sarah. Sarah then accuses Abraham: "May the wrong done to me be on you!" Judit points out the irony: it was Sarah who proposed the solution, yet now she blames her husband for not managing the servant well. The couple fractures. The household is in crisis. Hagar runs away.

Abraham answers: "Do to her as you please." This is not cowardly disengagement. At that time, a servant who had become the mother of the master's son could no longer be sent away. The Code of Hammurabi provided that, in the case of insolence, the mistress could reduce the servant back to slave status. Abraham applies the custom. But the whole affair is painful, human, disordered. Because no decision made according to the flesh produces the peace of God, even when it looks logical.

And that's not the end of it. Ishmael will be born in Genesis 16:15, when Abraham is 86. Isaac will not come until fourteen years later, when Abraham is 100. Abraham "gained" fourteen years on God's calendar. He paid for that shortcut at a historic price: Ishmael will become the ancestor of the Arab peoples, and this tension between the two lines of descent runs through the whole of biblical history right up to today.

5. Walking by the Spirit, not by the flesh

Judit then opens Galatians 5:16-17: "Walk by the Spirit, and you will not gratify the desires of the flesh. For the desires of the flesh are against the Spirit, and the desires of the Spirit are against the flesh, for these are opposed to each other, to keep you from doing the things you want to do."

What does it mean to "walk by the Spirit"? It doesn't mean doing nothing while waiting for God to act. Judit says it clearly: real faith comes with works. But those works don't spring from your own strength or your own desire. They come from a heart that asks the Lord before every decision: "Lord, right now, what do you want me to do? What do you not want me to do?" It's the example of Peter in Luke 5: he fished all night and caught nothing, but when Jesus tells him "Put out into the deep and let down your nets," he obeys, not because it's logical, but because it's the Master's word.

The rule is simple to state and hard to live: don't do what you want simply because you want it, and don't refrain from what you don't want simply because you don't want it. The only criterion is the will of God, revealed by the Spirit through the Word, the conscience, and circumstances.

6. Beware of pious-sounding words that mask the flesh

Judit warns against two expressions common in Christian circles.

"I have peace in my heart" or "I don't have peace." Peace is a beautiful thing. But is it the peace that comes from above, the peace aligned with the will of Christ, or is it simply the flesh's comfort, delighting in whatever suits it? Abraham and Sarah surely felt a kind of peace when they decided to go through Hagar: their problem was moving forward, a solution was in sight. But that peace was not God's peace. It ran contrary to his promise.

"I'm going to pray and see." In principle, that's excellent. We should pray, be still before God, let his Word speak to us. But sometimes this phrase hides something else: an elegant way of not obeying. We say we're going to pray, while in reality we're looking for reasons not to do what the Lord is asking. Judit recalls the case of Solomon: the wisest king on earth used all his intelligence to justify disobeying God. He could find twenty good reasons not to follow the Word. "Being intelligent is sometimes terrifying," she says.

7. Your flesh is a false friend

Your worst enemy is not outside you. It's your own flesh. It disguises itself as a friend who understands you. It whispers: "You already do so much," "You're tired, this time you can let it slide," "Jesus wouldn't ask that much of you," "Legalism is what it means to insist on works," "You have every reason not to forgive that person," "After what happened at church, you don't have to go back."

Judit calls this voice a "frenemy," an enemy that passes itself off as a friend. She reminds us that Satan slips his arrows in through the first person: "I am weak, I cannot, that's not who I am." He never says "you"; he makes you speak on his behalf. The answer is firm: "Satan, get behind me. In the name of Jesus Christ, I bind you and send you before the Lord for your judgment."

8. Isaac and Ishmael: the spiritual picture

Paul reads this story again in Galatians 4:28-31: "Now you, brothers, like Isaac, are children of promise. But just as at that time he who was born according to the flesh persecuted him who was born according to the Spirit, so also it is now. But what does the Scripture say? 'Cast out the slave woman and her son, for the son of the slave woman shall not inherit with the son of the free woman.' So, brothers, we are not children of the slave but of the free woman."

Ishmael represents the one born only of the flesh. Isaac, the child of promise, represents the one born again through the work of Jesus Christ. You, who have received Christ, are Isaac. You are not destined to bear the fruit of the flesh. You are destined to inherit the promise.

Key Takeaways

• God's promise is never in a hurry. Rushing it will not speed it up; it will produce an "Ishmael" that follows you for years.
• A culturally acceptable or socially normal solution is not automatically the will of God.
• What God expects from you is not that you help him; it's that you trust him and obey his Word.
• Real faith produces works, but those works don't come from your own strength or desire: they come from the Spirit who lives in you.
• The worst enemy of your walk with God is your own flesh, disguised as an understanding friend.

Personal Application

• What promise of God are you losing patience over today? Are you tempted to cobble together a human solution?
• When you say "I have peace" or "I don't have peace," where does that peace really come from: the Word of God, or whatever suits your flesh?
• What is the small inner voice justifying your disobedience to what God is asking of you right now? Can you name it?
• What "Ishmael" (a rushed decision from your past) still carries consequences in your life today? Can you hand it over to God?
• Take ten minutes tonight in silence. Don't talk. Simply ask: "Lord, what do you want me to do? What do you not want me to do?"

Scriptures Cited

• Genesis 16:1-6 · Sarai gives Hagar to Abram
• Genesis 12:1-3 · The call and the promise to Abram
• Genesis 15:6 · Abram believed the Lord, and it was counted to him as righteousness
• Genesis 17:3-5 · The new name: Abraham
• Genesis 22:2 · The sacrifice of Isaac on Mount Moriah
• Proverbs 3:5-6 · Trust in the Lord with all your heart
• Galatians 5:16-17 · Walk by the Spirit
• Galatians 4:28-31 · Isaac and Ishmael
• Galatians 6:7 · You reap what you sow

Frequently Asked Questions

Why did Abraham and Sarah choose to go through Hagar?

Because ten years after arriving in Canaan, the promise still hadn't come to pass and they were already elderly. Sarah could no longer conceive naturally. At the time, custom allowed a barren woman to give her servant to her husband in order to obtain an heir. Culturally, their decision was not shocking. But it directly contradicted God's promise, who had said he would give a son through Sarah herself.

Does walking by the Spirit mean doing nothing?

No. Real faith comes with works. Walking by the Spirit means acting, but not according to what you want or what seems logical to you. It means asking, before every decision: "Lord, what do you want me to do now?" and obeying, even when it goes against your flesh. Like Peter, who cast his nets in broad daylight because Jesus asked him to, even though professionally it seemed absurd.

How can I tell the difference between God's peace and the flesh's peace?

God's peace aligns with his Word and his revealed will. The flesh's peace aligns with whatever suits you, reassures you, and avoids the cost. A good test: if your "peace" leads you to work around what the Bible teaches or to choose the easiest path, it probably comes from the flesh. If it leads you to obey even when it's costly, it comes from the Spirit.