What Can We Give to a God Who Owns Everything?– Genesis 21

The Gift of Faith: What Can We Give to a God Who Owns Everything?
In a world obsessed with achievement and self-improvement, we often approach our spiritual lives with the same performance-driven mindset. We unconsciously believe that if we just do enough, give enough, or become good enough, we'll somehow earn God's favor. But what if everything we think we know about pleasing God is backward?
The Miracle That Defied All Logic
The story of Abraham and Sarah presents us with one of Scripture's most astonishing miracles. A 100-year-old man and his 90-year-old wife—who had been barren her entire life—welcomed a baby boy into the world. This wasn't just unlikely; it was impossible by every natural measure.
Sarah had carried the weight of barrenness for decades. In her culture, this wasn't merely a personal disappointment—it was a source of shame and social diminishment. Every time another woman announced her pregnancy, Sarah felt the sting of her own emptiness. When her servant Hagar became pregnant almost immediately after being given to Abraham, it confirmed Sarah's deepest fear: the problem was her.
Yet God promised the impossible. And when Isaac finally arrived, Sarah's laughter transformed from bitter skepticism to overflowing joy. "God has made laughter for me," she declared. "Everyone who hears will laugh over me."
The Contrast That Changes Everything
This miraculous birth illustrates a theme that runs throughout all of Scripture: the radical difference between human effort and divine intervention. Ishmael, born when Abraham was 86, represented human initiative—the attempt to help God fulfill His promise through natural means. Isaac, born when Abraham was 100, represented God's supernatural work—something only He could accomplish.
This contrast appears repeatedly in Scripture. It's the difference between Cain bringing his own sacrifice and Abel bringing what God required. It's the difference between trying to climb up to God and allowing God to reach down to us.
We call this misguided human effort "legalism"—the belief that we can reach God through our own works, that we can add something meaningful to what He has already done. Legalism whispers that salvation is too easy, that grace is too free, that we must contribute something to the equation.
Interestingly, this mirrors a fascinating marketing story from the 1940s. When companies first introduced instant pancake mix requiring only water, it failed miserably. Consumers didn't trust something so simple. But when manufacturers reformulated the product to require an egg in addition to water, sales skyrocketed. People needed to feel like they were contributing something, like they had a role to play.
We often approach God the same way. The pure gift of grace feels too simple, too unearned. Surely we must add something—our good works, our religious activities, our moral improvement. But this thinking contradicts the very nature of grace.
The One Thing God Doesn't Already Own
God owns everything. The cattle on a thousand hills belong to Him. The gold we value so highly? He paved the streets of heaven with it. There is literally nothing material we can offer that He doesn't already possess in abundance.
So what can we give to a God who has everything?
Our faith. Our trust.
These are the only things God, in His graciousness, chose not to own outright. He could have created robots programmed to worship Him, automatons with no choice but to obey. Instead, He made creatures with genuine freedom—the freedom to choose Him or reject Him, to trust Him or doubt Him, to love Him or walk away.
This is what makes faith so precious. Peter tells us that our faith is worth more than gold—not to God necessarily, since gold means nothing to Him, but to us. Our faith connects us to God, leads us to trust Him, opens us to receive His forgiveness, and allows us to be filled with His Spirit. Everything else is temporary and ultimately meaningless.
Without faith, it's impossible to please God. But the inverse is equally true: with faith, we can please Him. We can actually put a smile on the face of the Creator of the universe. When we walk in trust, bearing fruit in the good works He has already prepared for us, we bring Him delight.
When God Opens Our Eyes
The story takes a heartbreaking turn when Hagar and Ishmael are sent away into the wilderness. With only bread and water, they soon found themselves in a desperate situation. The water ran out. The desert heat became unbearable. Ishmael, though nearly seventeen, grew weak from dehydration.
Hagar, unable to watch her son die, placed him under a bush and walked away, weeping uncontrollably. Her entire life seemed ruined beyond repair. She had done nothing wrong—she was simply a servant caught in circumstances beyond her control. Now she would watch her only son die a slow, agonizing death.
But God heard the voice of the boy. The angel of the Lord called to Hagar: "What troubles you? Fear not, for God has heard."
Then something remarkable happened: "God opened her eyes, and she saw a well of water."
The well had been there all along. But Hagar's distress had blinded her to it. She was so overwhelmed by her circumstances, so convinced of her hopeless situation, that she couldn't see the provision right in front of her.
How often do we find ourselves in similar places? Convinced that our situation is beyond hope, unable to see the resources God has already provided, blinded by our pain and fear to the reality of His presence and provision.
A Testimony That Transcends Our Failures
The story concludes with a fascinating encounter. Abimelech, the king who had been deceived by Abraham in the previous chapter, approaches him and says, "God is with you in all that you do."
Think about that. Abraham had lied to this man, brought guilt upon his entire household, and destroyed his own credibility. How could he possibly have a testimony after such a moral failure?
Yet time revealed the truth. Abraham's life, led by God despite his mistakes, spoke volumes. His pattern of falling toward God rather than away from Him, of getting back up and continuing to trust, created a testimony that transcended his failures.
This should encourage all of us. We all make mistakes. We all have failures. But if we continue to fall forward—toward God rather than away from Him—if we keep getting up and asking Him to live through us, people will notice. They'll see something different. They'll recognize that God is with us, not because we're perfect, but because we're surrendered.
The Only Response
What can we bring to God? Nothing but ourselves. Nothing but our faith. Nothing but our willingness to trust Him rather than ourselves.
The cross of Jesus Christ stands as the ultimate demonstration of God's love—the most radical expression of grace the universe has ever witnessed. We don't earn that love. We don't add to that work. We simply bow in gratitude and say, "Thank you."
Our faith—imperfect as it may be—is the one gift we can offer. And when we do, when we stop trying to pull ourselves up by our own bootstraps and instead let God lift us up, something beautiful happens. We begin to walk in the good works He prepared for us. We begin to reflect His character. We begin to put a smile on His face.
Not because we're good enough. But because He is.