(elly-ĕ'-zer)

 

Abraham was troubled.  He had problems.  They loomed huge.  They were all-consuming, and there seemed little that he could do about them.

For one, his wife had just died.  His precious Sarah was gone.  Abraham was in mourning.  They’d been together as partners and best friends for over a century.  Most of that time they’d been childless, which had been a huge affliction to both of them; but they’d finally, miraculously, had a son—and therein lay Abraham’s other looming problem.

The “lad” was 37 years old—and unmarried.  That fact had been a huge worry to Sarah, and to Abraham, too.  It was now a bigger worry than ever.  Isaac was mourning the loss of his mother.  He was lonely and morose.  Abraham was powerless to comfort his son.  As Isaac’s father he had the ability—and the responsibility—of finding a wife for his son, and of entering into a marriage agreement with the girl’s family.  There were plenty of available women, and every one of their families would be thrilled to make a marriage alliance with such a wealthy, well-respected, and powerful man as Abraham; for he had vast holdings, herds, and servants.  Hadn’t he, at a moment’s notice, been able to amass an army—from his own household—of over 300 men to rescue his nephew, Lot, when Lot had been kidnapped?

But none of the local women could even be considered as a possible mate for Isaac.  They were Canaanite.  They weren’t of the covenant.  They were faithless, idolatrous, and would lead the hearts of their husbands far from the true and living God.  Abraham knew it, and so did Isaac.  That’s why Isaac was so morose.  There was no one for him to marry.

Abraham was now 137 years old.  That was old!  Sarah’s death made him feel even older.  He could follow Sarah at any time, and her passing made him somewhat anxious to do so.  But he couldn’t allow such thoughts until his son was provided for.  Isaac needed a wife, and he needed a wife now, without delay.

Isaac needed a wife from his own lineage—a woman of faith who could produce children through whom the covenant would be carried on.  God had covenanted this whole land to Abraham and his seed.  He’d promised Abraham that his seed would become as numerous as the stars in heaven, and that the whole earth would be blessed by his posterity.  None of those spectacular promises could come to pass unless Isaac got married.  None of those promises could come to pass unless Isaac married in the covenant!

Abraham’s relatives were all far away.  He’d left his brother, Nahor, back in Haran when they’d left Mesopotamia.  Abraham was much too old to make the arduous journey to seek a wife for his son from among the family of Nahor.  Neither dared he send Isaac to do the job.  The trip would be dangerous.  He couldn’t risk the possibility of anything happening to this precious son, or the covenant would have an end before it ever got started.  There would be no heirs to whom to pass either the covenants or the worldly wealth.

There was only one thing to do, and there was only one man who could do it—Eliezer.  Faithful Eliezer.  He was old, like Abraham.  He’d been Abraham’s steward since before Isaac was born.  Everything Abraham had was in Eliezer’s hands.  He managed everything, and he could manage this, too.  He was wise, he was faithful, he believed in God, he was prayerful, he was worthy, he’d be guided.  He was from Damascus.  He was one of Abraham’s converts, and had been unwaveringly faithful since his conversion.  If he was asked to go to Haran and find a wife for Isaac, he’d go, and he’d be successful.

The idea had no sooner occurred to Abraham, and been considered, than it was acted upon.  Abraham sent for Eliezer and explained his dilemma.  Eliezer was doubtful.  What girl would willingly forever leave her family, her friends, her country, and everything with which she was familiar to make a difficult journey to a far country to marry a man twice her age that she’d never before seen?  It was unlikely.  What family would allow it?

“These are my kindred,” Abraham told him.  “We have much to offer.  The woman who marries Isaac will have every advantage, and be well cared for.  They will agree to the offer.  God will go before you and prepare the way.  Put, I pray thee, thy hand under my hand:  and I will make thee swear by the Lord, the God of heaven, and the God of the earth, that thou shalt not take a wife unto my son of the daughters of the Canaanites among whom I dwell:  but thou shalt go unto my country, and to my kindred, and take a wife unto my son Isaac.”

“What if the woman won’t come with me?” Eliezer asked.  “Should I take Isaac there?”

“The Lord God of heaven, which took me from my father’s house, and from the land of my kindred, and which spake unto me, saying, Unto thy seed will I give this land; he shall send his angel before thee, and thou shalt take a wife unto my son from thence.  And if the woman will not be willing to follow thee, then thou shalt be clear from this my oath:  only bring not my son thither again.”  (Gen. 24:7, 8).

An angel would go before him.  Abraham said so.  It was enough.  He’d be successful.  How could he fail?  Eliezer put his hand under Abraham’s and swore to him concerning the matter.

Eliezer had his charge.  How to carry it out was up to him.  He selected good men to accompany him.  They gathered provisions and camping gear for the journey.  It would be long—perhaps 400 miles.  They’d go through Damascus, familiar territory for Eliezer, and then to Haran which was north, and on the other side of the great Euphrates.  Eliezer had never been there.  One way, the journey might take 40 days, maybe longer.

Eliezer went to the treasury and selected bracelets, earrings, gold and gifts.  The girl and her family would need evidence of Isaac’s wealth, and enticements to make the agreement.

When all was ready, Abraham and Isaac were there to bid Eliezer and his companions farewell.  Ten camels were heavily laden.  Abraham blessed Eliezer.  With a light in his eye, Isaac bid him Godspeed.  He was more cheerful than Eliezer had seen him for months—maybe years.  Much was riding on the outcome of this endeavor.  The future of this family depended upon Eliezer’s success.

 

No one there fully comprehended the importance of Eliezer’s mission, but the future of the world depended upon the success of Eliezer’s endeavor.  On the surface it appeared to be just another event in the lives of common, ordinary men; but though they considered themselves so, these were not common, ordinary people.  Abraham and Isaac were marked and chosen men.  Because of their faithfulness their God would thereafter be known among their children as “the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob,” the faithful son that Isaac would have by the woman Eliezer would select.  That girl was Rebecca.  Of all the women in the world, the angel of the Lord led Eliezer to her.  She was set to become “the mother of thousands of millions.”  (Gen. 24:60).

Do the math.  One thousand million is one billion.  Rebecca’s faith had to first be tried before she realized the blessing.  It’s been realized now.  After all these years—4000 of them—Rebecca is the mother of billions of people.  She first had to agree to accompany Eliezer.  She then had to faithfully endure 20 years of being barren.

These people were heroes.

 

 

So was Eliezer.  He’s anonymous in the scripture when the charge was given to Abraham’s steward in Genesis 24:2.  Eliezer was his name four decades earlier, if he was the same steward named in Genesis 15:2.  Whether his name was Eliezer or not we don’t know, but a faithful hero he was.  The entire history of the world from Abraham onward rested on his shoulders.  He was prayerful, and allowed the Spirit to lead him.  With such guidance he couldn’t fail, but he had to hearken to the Spirit.  He’d practiced all his life.

Eliezer succeeded.  He’s unheralded.  He has been forgotten by the billions who owe their lineage, their promises, and their heritage to his faithfulness.  He is a symbol of the quiet work and the great good that is accomplished by millions of people like him who go about their duties with no thought of reward.

A medal should be given to all such.  Its name should be the Eliezer Award.

The more one reads the scriptures, the more one is able to read between the lines.  One becomes aware of unnamed people behind the scenes without whose service events could not have happened.  Eliezer is one of those.  There are others.

There’s the anonymous person who invited the Holy Family into his or her house after the Savior’s birth in the stable.  (Matt. 2:11).  I previously wrote that person’s story on page 115 of this volume.

There is the unnamed owner of the white foal upon which Christ rode as He made His triumphal entry into Jerusalem.  Why did he allow the foal to be taken?  His story can be found on page 9 of Stories For My Grandchildren.

There is the unnamed preparator of the upper room where Jesus ate the Last Supper with His disciples.  Why did he prepare it and not let it out to another among the multitudes who were then in Jerusalem to celebrate the Passover?  I’ll make you privy to his story someday, but I don’t yet know it.

May I—and you—be an Eliezer.