According to His plans, God chose Abraham to be the father of many nations. However, before nations, Abraham first had to become the father of at least one son. As he wrestled with the promise, Abraham eventually had two sons—Ishmael and Isaac—before having six more with Keturah after Sarah’s death. Although both Ishmael and Isaac were born of Abraham, only one was born of the promise.

Ishmael represents what we can make happen; Isaac, what only God can. Though historical figures, the siblings remain present symbols—reflecting how we live, choose, trust, and wait. Their stories speak beyond their time, offering insight into our journey with dreams, delays, and destiny. Some of those insights have recently challenged and encouraged me—and maybe they’ll do the same for you.

Unable to conceive a son in their old age, Abraham and Sarai tried to create their own lineage. Abraham had a promise—but Sarai had a problem: infertility. In their fragility and lack of trust, the foreparents of our faith sought their own solution.

Paul, in Galatians 4:22–31, uses Ishmael and Isaac to illustrate two ways of living. Ishmael represents human effort—the flesh—trying to force what only God can do. Isaac represents faith—the Spirit—waiting for God’s supernatural fulfilment. Where faith waits, the flesh forces.

We sometimes vilify Hagar and Ishmael, as if Hagar—an enslaved woman—chose this for herself and her son. But Ishmael isn’t evil—he’s just early. With our instantaneous, Instagrammable society, we often mistake early for eternal. Yet, as we see from Isaac, there’s only one which carries the covenant.

Born of human effort to Abraham and Hagar, Ishmael became a proxy for the promise—a result of Abraham and Sarai thinking they needed to help God fulfil His word (Genesis 16:1–4). Ishmael is proof that good intentions without trust create proxies that end up competing with the promise. But the promise never needs help to come forth—just faith.

A proxy may precede a promise, but it doesn’t preclude it. Ishmael was first, but Isaac was final. Isaac was born of divine fulfilment—the promise that came at God’s appointed time (Genesis 21:1–3).

Sometimes, I look at what I’m doing and wonder: Is this an Ishmael—born out of effort, impatience, and fear? Or is this an Isaac—birthed through faith, surrender, and God’s timing?

These two half-brothers become more than history—they become heart checks. Anchors that remind us that even when we’ve created an Ishmael, God can still bring an Isaac. They also encourage us when it feels like others are getting ahead through human effort—God’s promise remains unshaken. And even when we fall short, God doesn’t fall back on His word.

A proxy doesn’t cancel the promise—it just complicates the process. But grace means that if we return, realign, and re-partner with God, the promise can still come to pass. What God has spoken still stands. An Isaac may be delayed by an Ishmael—but it is never denied because of one.

A proxy will likely become a problem later on. As we see from the two brothers, the proxy carries questions of inheritance and birthright—Ishmael threatened Isaac’s, or at least his mother thought so. (We’ll get to that very soon.) But ultimately, a promise and a proxy can’t co-exist in company, because they’re fuelled by entirely different sources.

Ishmael and Isaac aren’t just two sons—they represent two systems. One is human effort, control, and impatience. The other is divine power, surrender, and faith. Ishmael is the result of impatience; Isaac is the fruit of identity—wait for the promise, don’t force the proxy. You’ll always feel the tension—the push and pull between what you forced and what God freely gave. I know I have.

Sarah’s jealousy wasn’t holy—but her judgement wasn’t wrong. She was discerning. Isaac couldn’t freely inherit his birthright while Ishmael still had a claim. If we don’t deal with the proxy, it will eventually challenge the authority of the promise. Her treatment of Hagar was inexcusable—but she wasn’t wrong to create separation. What’s born of striving cannot peacefully dwell with what’s born from surrender.

With all that said, Isaac’s inheritance was always secure—destiny is never a competition. A proxy may  fight for prominence but promises don’t need to prove anything. Ishmael was sent away (Genesis 21:10–14), not as punishment, but to prevent confusion over the inheritance. Isaac’s promise was never at risk—he was always the heir of the covenant (Genesis 26:2–5). Isaac doesn’t compete—because he’s chosen. (A side comment for someone as this is something that shifted alot when I got the revelation: when you know you’re chosen, you stop competing with what was never meant to carry your calling.)

An Isaac inheritance—what’s rightfully ours by God’s grace and mercy—is never threatened by an Ishmael existence. If we’re called and chosen—which we are—then the inheritance is ours, and it will be received in God’s perfect time. The existence or even success of an Ishmael doesn’t mean the Isaac promise is lost.

Just because someone seems to get ahead through their own effort doesn’t change the timing or truth of what God has spoken. His promises aren’t rushed or pressured by others’ progress—they’re always right on time. And what He’s spoken over you can’t be taken, replaced, or overridden. (At least, not by someone else. You, however… Well, that’s a whole other post.)

Something that has always moved me is God’s favour toward Ishmael. Though he wasn’t the child of promise, God still blessed him greatly (Genesis 17:20). He became a great nation, a father of twelve princes—a sign that even what wasn’t the fulfilment could still be exceedingly fruitful under God’s hand.

We’re broken people. At some point—maybe many—we’ll produce an Ishmael. And we’ll encounter Ishmaels too. That’s just life.

Sometimes we see an “Ishmael” prospering while we’re still waiting on our “Isaac.” And while the enemy would love for us to question God’s goodness—or our favour with Him—His abundance means there’s blessing for both. We don’t need to be apprehensive, discouraged, jealous or else as this happens. If we walk by the Spirit, our Isaac will come in God’s perfect time, and it will be worth the wait.

Even our Ishmaels—our missteps, misfires, and moments of flesh—can still be met with mercy. They may not be the promise, but they can still be blessed. While the Isaac in our lives is being prepared, God remains kind to the Ishmaels we’ve made along the way.

Along the road to Shur, while fleeing from Sarah, Hagar encounters the Lord in the wilderness and proclaims Him El Roi—the God who sees (Genesis 16:13).

She thought she’d been abandoned—not just by Abraham and his household, but by God. Until He showed up. Years later, Ishmael was seen and provided for in the wilderness, even though the covenant promise belonged to Isaac (Genesis 21:17–19). Hagar and Ishmael’s story reminds us that even when we step outside of God’s timing, He steps into our wilderness. When we feel overlooked or forgotten, God sees us; we can be out of alignment, but we’re never out of His sight. And He’s always working behind the scenes.

So whether you’re in a proxy or promise season, at the beginning or the end, take heart in this: the God of all is the God who sees you. And even better—He seeks you out in both Isaac and Ishmael moments.