Seen

She gave this name to the Lord who spoke to her: “You are the God who sees me,” for she said, “I have now seen the One who sees me.” 
-Genesis 16:13
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I've been too pragmatic lately. So here's a change of tune. I invite you to let it speak, let it stir, let it sit. 
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"Where have you come from, and where are you going?"
The question was piercing
       because she could not answer it.
Leaving a home that was no longer safe, 
       carrying a child knowing it would be stolen, 
             owned and disowned and used and abused. 
Deserted. 
So what better place for the deserted to run to
       than the desert?
But still there was nowhere to lay her weary head, 
       nowhere to rest her traumatized body. 

"Where have you come from, and where are you going?"
Running. Running away. And for good reason. 
An impossible situation with a hopeless future. 
But the voice would not let her spirit evaporate in the heat. 
"You are not abandoned... 
       Your child will not be nameless... 
              The Lord has heard your misery." 
As if almost to say
       You are worthy of compassion.
And she was.
And she trusted. 
And she named God. 
Yes, after the famous man had gotten to name all the animals in the garden, 
       now this forgotten woman gets to name God. 

El Roi. 
You are the God who sees me. 
And I have now seen you because of it.
And that's how it went. 
And that's how it goes. 
This is the mystical dance of grace and presence,
       even millenia later. 
We are all of us in the tradition of Hagar.
Running away from our undeserved wounds
       and running in shame of the ones we deserve.
Unsure of what is safe or what is sacred 
       and so aware that we are Just. So. Tired. 
Surrounded by pixels, people, and programs 
       yet somehow still crouched in the desert, huddled.
Invisible to the world. 
Yet the voice still speaks
       The seer still sees
              And we are the object of his gaze. 
Seen in our brokenness
       Called out in our isolation
              Invited into trust
                     Reminded of our belovedness.
And in an indulgent measure of grace,
       given eyes to see the one who sees us. 

When life's harsh words and actions wound us
       and lack of care and connection numb us
              still we are sought and still we are found 
                     drawn back to the land of the living. 
The God who saw then
       is the God who sees now 
Inviting us to be restored. 

Jesus, thank you for seeing me today. 

Peace,
Keith

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