WHY THE ANGEL SKIPPED A QUESTION

Have you ever read the verse in which the Angel of the Lord was speaking to Hagar as she ran away from her mistress, Sarai, and wondered about the questions she was asked? I have pondered those questions not just for their drama, but for the fact that one question was not asked. Hagar, the Egyptian servant, finds herself in a tough spot, running away into the wilderness. And then, out of seemingly nowhere, an angel shows up and asks her two pointed questions: "Where have you come from, and where are you going?"

If you're not familiar, this is from Genesis 16. Hagar is pregnant, mistreated by her mistress Sarai (later Sarah), and she flees into the desert. She's by a spring, probably exhausted and scared, when the Angel of the Lord appears to her. He calls her by name, "Hagar, servant of Sarai", and drops those questions. This implies to me that she was already on God’s radar. He had masterful plans for her and was keeping a watchful eye on her to keep her on track. Hearing His questions, she answers honestly that she is fleeing from Sarai. It sounds like Sarai was being cruel and abusive toward her. Was Sarai being cruel because Hagar had slept with and now bore the child of Sarai’s husband? Or was Sarai projecting her anger towards herself upon Hagar for having been the one who basically forced Abram to sleep with her slave? Every time she saw Hagar’s swollen belly, she was reminded that the guilt of the premarital pregnancy lay at no one’s feet but her own. No wonder the Angel of the Lord felt pity for Hagar. Seeing her in a plight which was not of her own making, the angel then gives her some divine guidance, telling her to go back and promising a future for her and her son, Ishmael.

But here's what got me thinking. Why didn't the angel ask her where she “was” right then and there? I mean, she's sitting by a spring in the wilderness. It's pretty obvious, right? Was the present moment so self-evident that it didn't need stating? Or is there something deeper going on, like a nudge toward self-reflection on our personal journeys rather than on the place where we may be stuck in life?

Questions like these aren't just about geography. They are about the human condition. "Where have you come from?" forces us to look back at our origins, our pains, our choices. For Hagar, it's acknowledging her status as a servant, her mistreatment, and the chain of events that led her to this brief respite as she stumbled through the wilderness. It's like the angel is saying, "Own your past! It's part of what makes you, you."

Then, He asks, "Where are you going?" This question causes a person to shift one's gaze forward. It's about purpose, direction, destiny. The angel isn't leaving her in limbo. He's prompting her to think about what's next, and then he fills in the blanks with a prophecy. This duo of questions bookends the present, sandwiching the "now" between reflection about one's past and aspiration of where one could go.

But why skip the "Where are you at this moment?" question entirely? Did the angel figure she already knew the answer to that question? Probably! Hagar is physically there, parched and alone in the desert. Asking "Where are you?" might have come off as redundant, like stating the obvious in a moment of crisis. But how many times have we been so deep in a crisis that where we are is simply a blur? We are so fraught with anxiety or situational depression that all that’s going on around us seems like we are caught in a whirlwind of despair. Maybe we need someone to ask us such a question so it can snap us back to reality.

The omission of the question about where she is in the present speaks volumes about awareness. In existential terms, the present is often the most immediate and undeniable thing. We “are” in the present. But we're notoriously bad at connecting it to our past and future. The angel, being all-knowing and divine, doesn't need to belabor the point. It's understood, implicit in the encounter itself. By not asking, He is assuming her self-awareness of the now, or perhaps gently implying that the present is just a fleeting bridge, connecting the past and the future. It's not about “being” stuck; it's about “moving” through. Yea, though I walk “through” the valley of the shadow of death…” (Psalms 23:4).

Was it unnecessary? In a literal sense, probably. But that's the beauty of it. The angel's approach humanizes the divine interaction. It's not an interrogation. It's a conversation starter that invites introspection without overwhelming. If he had piled on a third question, it might have diluted the impact, turning profound into pedantic. No one likes to be talked down to! Perhaps by not asking the question about the present, He was implying that the two most important questions dealt with her past and her future. The present would take care of itself if she would set her sights on that which was to come.

Think about it in our own lives. How often do we get caught up in the "now" without context? We're strolling along through days in and days out, reacting to the immediate, but forgetting where we've been or where we're headed. This story reminds me to pause and ask myself those Hagar questions. Where have I come from, which includes the wins and the wounds? Where am I going, and am I focusing on my dreams and goals, or just staying in survival mode?

In the end, Hagar's story isn't just ancient history. It's a mirror for our life wanderings. The angel's selective questioning teaches us that sometimes, the most powerful insights come from what's “not” said. It assumes we're capable of knowing our present and challenges us to weave it into a bigger narrative.

What about you? Ever had a moment where someone (or something) skipped the obvious and went straight for the soul-searching stuff? Drop your thoughts in the comments.