The story of Abram and Sarai’s marriage is deeply troubling. Abram treated Sarai not as a partner, but as property—offering her to other men to protect himself and gain favor. Had God not intervened, who knows how many times Sarai would have been exploited.

As a Christian woman with a personal relationship with God, I cannot ignore the truth: Abram was not a man of honor. He placed no value on his wife. If a woman is used by her husband and sold for her beauty, can she even be called a wife in the sacred sense?

Reading Genesis 16, I felt enraged. Sarai’s pain is barely acknowledged. We know little of her origin—only that she was beautiful and barren. Scripture defines her by these physical attributes, not by her faith, her story, or her humanity.

Later in life, Sarai took matters into her own hands. After waiting her entire life to bear a child, she believed God was against her. In Genesis 16:2, she says:

“The Lord has kept me from having children. Go, sleep with my slave; perhaps I can build a family through her.”

Earlier, Abram had abandoned Sarai to survive in a foreign land. He used her beauty to gain wealth and favor from Pharaoh. While Abram prospered, Sarai was violated.

This is one of the earliest examples of prostitution in Scripture: a woman reduced to a transaction, her body used for gain. This was not God’s plan—it was Abram’s. Sarai is not the only woman who married a man and later discovered he was a coward, willing to sacrifice her dignity for his own survival. And she is not the first to go along with such schemes, perhaps believing she had no choice.

Despite the circumstances, I have deep compassion for Sarai. She followed her husband into the unknown and was betrayed. She was raped in Pharaoh’s palace while Abram benefited from her suffering.

When someone participates in a system that diminishes their humanity, they often begin to dehumanize others. Victims of oppression—whether through rape, racism, or discrimination—can internalize the tools of harm and use them in turn.

This is why our response matters.

First, we must have faith in God. Fear is not of Him.

“For God hath not given us the spirit of fear; but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind.” —2 Timothy 1:7 

This means we are never truly at the mercy of others. With power, we know we cannot be destroyed. With love, we can move hearts toward justice. And with a sound mind, we can find solutions that honor our humanity. Reject any path that asks you to diminish yourself.

Second, if you’ve ever gone along with a dehumanizing scheme—especially one orchestrated by someone you trusted—acknowledge that it was wrong.

When Abram offered Sarai to another man, he violated their covenant. He was never held accountable, and that lack of accountability eroded the foundation of their marriage. Later, when Sarai sought a solution to her barrenness, she mirrored Abram’s betrayal—forcing Hagar into a role she herself had once endured.

Finally, What struck me when I read the passage was how Sarai’s heart was darkened towards Hagar. Hagar was helpless as Sarai’s servant yet, because she could do something that Sarah couldn’t, Sarah hated her.

Not only was her relationship with God broken, her relationship with Hagar was broken. When Sarai took matters into her own hands, she harmed her servant Hagar who she forced to sleep with her husband so that she could have children. Once Hagar became pregnant, Sarai became jealous and mistreated her. Hagar resented her. Sarai’s decision harmed the people close to her and caused a child to be born into circumstances of desperation and confusion.  But what’s more, Sarah, who had never given birth before, only saw the outcome and felt jealous. She did not understand what it took to conceive, carry and birth a child; she only cared about the outcome that she could not produce. Sarai also did not consider the pain that Hagar must have felt from being forced to sleep with another woman’s husband. Sarai, who had not given birth before, did not know what it meant to nurse and care for a child. Sarai’s pain led her to dehumanize Hagar, seeing only her ability and not her human needs as a woman who may want her own husband and children not to be someone’s concubine. She only considered her own selfish wants — seeing the results and wanting them with no understanding of the great sacrifice of self required to give birth.

Sarai teaches us that when you take matters into your own hands you harm your most intimate connections: your marriage, your family, those who work for you, your very self. Those who trust in you face the consequences of your actions – the very actions that you took because of your feelings of inadequacy. You become obsessed with an outcome coming about in your own time. In her self-interest, Sarai lacked empathy, caring about nothing more than her own wants.

Sarai’s treatment of both God and Hagar reflect her damaged relationship with herself. Have you ever felt jealous because of someone else’s ability? Has it ever bothered you that someone could do something that you believed you couldn’t? Did you treat them wrongly because they were capable of doing that thing? Why did you do it? I believe that jealousy is a reflection of brokenness that creates a perceived need or lack within oneself. If you have been victim of abandonment or schemes that left you feeling dehumanized like Hagar, acknowledge that what happened to you was wrong and seek to process your experience. Here is a resource that I highly recommend for those who want to think about and process their past pain:

The Abandonment Recovery Workbook: Guidance through the 5 Stages of Healing from Abandonment, Heartbreak, and Loss