Have you ever felt invisible? Like your struggles, your prayers, and your very existence go unnoticed by the world around you? In the hustle and bustle of everyday life, it’s easy to feel overlooked and undervalued. But there’s a powerful message hidden in an ancient story that reminds us we are never truly invisible.
The story of Hagar in Genesis 16 is a testament to the God who sees us, even when we feel most alone. It’s a narrative of family drama, cultural expectations, and divine intervention that speaks volumes about how we view others and how God views us.
The story begins with Abram and Sarai, an elderly couple clinging to a promise from God that they would have a child. After years of waiting, Sarai takes matters into her own hands. She offers her Egyptian slave, Hagar, to Abram as a surrogate. It’s a decision that might have been culturally acceptable at the time, but it sets off a chain of events that leads to heartbreak and generational trauma.
Hagar, young and vulnerable, becomes pregnant. Suddenly, she’s caught in the middle of a family conflict she never asked to be part of. Used as a solution to someone else’s problem, Hagar is not seen as a person with hopes and dreams, but as a means to an end. How often does this happen in our world today? People reduced to what they can do rather than who they are, valued for their productivity rather than their inherent worth as image-bearers of God.
The situation quickly deteriorates. Sarai becomes jealous and mistreats Hagar, driving her to flee into the wilderness. Picture this young woman – pregnant, alone, and far from home. She’s invisible to the world, a runaway with nowhere to go.
But she’s not invisible to God.
In a pivotal moment, an angel of the Lord appears to Hagar near a spring in the desert. The angel asks her, “Where have you come from, and where are you going?” It’s a profound question, not because God doesn’t know the answer, but because it gives Hagar the chance to tell her story. It’s a reminder that we need to be willing to hear the stories of those who feel invisible, to listen to the pain and hurt of those who have been cast aside.
Hagar’s encounter with God is both challenging and hopeful. She’s told to return to Sarai – a difficult ask, to be sure. But she’s not sent back empty-handed. God promises her a son and countless descendants. In this moment, Hagar realizes something fundamental: she has been seen. She has been heard.
In response, Hagar gives God a new name: “You are the God who sees me.” It’s a powerful declaration. The Creator of the universe, the Almighty, is also the God who notices the overlooked, who hears the cries of the dismissed.
This story carries a dual message for us today. First, it’s a reminder that no matter how invisible we may feel, we are never unseen by God. Our struggles, our waiting, our deepest fears – God sees it all. Even in our darkest moments, when we feel most alone, we are fully known and deeply loved by the God who sees us.
But there’s a second, equally important message here. If we claim to follow this God who sees, we cannot walk through life with blinders on. We are called to see others as God sees them. To notice those the world passes by. To hear the stories that often go unspoken.
Think about the “Hagars” in your world – the cashier at the store, the coworker who eats lunch alone, the classmate nobody talks to. How often do we truly see them? Do we look them in the eye, ask their name, listen to their story? Or do we simply see the role they play, the service they provide?
The challenge is clear: slow down enough to really see. Treat each person not as a function they perform, but as a child of God who is fully seen and deeply loved – because that’s exactly who they are.
This week, make a conscious effort to notice the overlooked. Smile at the person bagging your groceries. Ask your quiet coworker about their weekend. Sit with someone who usually eats alone. In doing so, you become a reflection of the God who sees, bringing a touch of divine recognition to those who might feel invisible.
Remember, the God who sees you is calling you to see others. It’s a beautiful cycle of being seen and seeing others that can transform our relationships and our world.
As we go through our days, let’s carry with us the powerful truth from this ancient story: we serve a God who sees us in our struggles, hears us in our pain, and calls us by name. And in turn, we are called to be His eyes and ears in the world, noticing the overlooked, hearing the unheard, and treating every person we encounter as the valuable, seen, and loved individual they are.
May we all come to know, in a deep and personal way, the God who sees us. And may we become people who truly see others, bringing a touch of divine recognition to a world that often feels invisible.
Be seen. See others. And in doing so, may we all come to know the God who sees us all.
