"The God Who Sees Me" - Why Hagar Is The Every Woman

Anyone who would say that the Bible is a boring read, isn't reading it. From talking animals, to women warriors, to murder to cover up adultery, it is drama of the highest degree. Of course, we all love the stories of Daniel, Deborah, Paul... but it's the more obscure characters that have always intrigued me most.

Jael, the housewife who drove a stake through the sleeping enemy's temple (yikes). Nicodemus, the Pharisee who wrestled with the tension between outrageous faith and dutiful religious paradigms. And then there's Hagar - the Egyptian slave of Sarah (Abraham's elderly, barren wife). Hagar was viewed as a commodity, not a human being who deserved dignity, in the household of Sarah. She was used as an end to a means by a woman trying to manipulate the pieces of the puzzle to make them fit her desires (God had promised Sarah a son, but she was determined to expedite the timeline for delivery and ended up causing tremendous chaos and pain... can anyone relate?!)

At some point in our lives, every woman has been a little bit Sarah (hate to admit that one, myself), and yes, a little bit (or a lotta bit) Hagar.

Hagar had to have felt like she had no rights. No voice. No autonomy in her future. I'm sure she felt layers of humiliation as she was rushed into Abraham's bed with the sole purpose of conceiving a son for her master. And then, when Sarah realized the recklessness and selfishness of her actions, and that her own doing would never truly satisfy the God-given desires of her heart, she threw Hagar and her innocent child out like a bag of donations to Goodwill - cast away like items she regretted ever having in her presence in the first place.

Hagar, overwhelmed with grief, with no resources or network to call upon, sat on the ground away from her only son because she could not bear to watch him die in front of her. She was at the end of herself. No community. No crisis center to call upon. No shelter. No hope. And then, she encounters El Roi. El Roi, the God who sees me. This woman, who was not even a Hebrew, was not only seen by God, but He met her in the midst of her desperation, despair, and a struggle that required a miracle. He called her blessed when the world shunned her. He gave her hope for the future when circumstances were devastating. He was close to her broken heart - close to her mother's heart.

I don't know where you are on your journey, but I know that I have experienced the intense anxiety, fear, and depression that Hagar felt. Hagar must have always felt as if she had to "fit in," but never truly belonged (are you seeing yourself in Hagar, yet? I know I am). She was dealt a set of circumstances that were in no way just, and was made to deal with the outcomes of other people's decisions. And yet, she saw God. And He saw her.

Right now, it is hard. There is no spiritual band-aid or faith-filled phrase that can sugar coat it. I'm sorry it's like this - that this season feels unsettled, unknown, and like you're doing all you can to hold it together. You don't feel like the hopeful Hagar; you feel like the pre-encounter Hagar. The woman who doesn't even have the energy to search for an answer anymore, because there seems to be no solution in sight. I get it.

I remember this feeling. I remember wondering if I'd ever come out of it after our adoption journey was brought to a screeching halt. I thought to myself, "This brokenness must just be my life now. This is my new normal."

And yet, in the middle of what felt like a tangible blackout suffocating my soul, El Roi saw me. His light trickled in and lifted my face toward His. It wasn't all at once. It wasn't instant. But it was consistent. He saw me. He met me in my car when I was crying so hard I could hardly make out the road; in my shower, when I could scarcely decipher if the liquid rolling down my body was water or tears; at church, when I tried to keep my emotions at bay and never seemed able to. El Roi was there with me. Every. Single. Time.

How could He so easily meet me in this intense sense of agony, betrayal, and pain? Because Jesus had been there too, on the cross.

Hagar was so astonished at her encounter that she basically said the biblical equivalent of, "Is this for real?! I can't believe it!" He is for real. Sit down. Allow your despair to pour out like a flood. Don't hold anything back. Tell Him how you feel. His shoulders are strong enough to carry the burdens that make you feel like you're collapsing. And watch as He shows you how intimately He sees you.