A few weeks ago I was talking with another woman in ministry about how challenging it can be to be "seen" for who we truly are... Our gifts, graces, and what we can uniquely contribute. Why?
Once people see the first "unique contribution" we bring - competent female voice in a man's world - we are slotted into that spot. That's not always a bad thing... I have had a voice in many places because I fit this need. But sometimes? I wish more people would go past that first unique contribution to see what else I have to offer. Not just as a "competent woman" but as an individual.
Yesterday I was again reading the story of Abraham and Sarah --- a story that has been journeying with me for a long time. But this time, rather than notice Abraham or Sarah's faith journey, I was surprised by Hagar's story in Genesis 16. Talk about someone who was not "seen"! A slave, whose masters decided it would be a good idea for her to have their child. All without her consent. And then, when she expresses her unhappiness, she's abused more. So she runs away.
She ends up in the middle of nowhere - a spring in the desert - and who should show up on the scene, but a messenger / angel of the God of her enemy / masters -- the God of Abraham & Sarah.
The first thing this messenger of God says is Hagar's name. In the middle of nowhere, she is seen. She is found. She is someone. He gives her instructions, and blessing, and prophecy about the future.
And she gives God a name: "The God who sees me."
What is my - and your - spring in the desert, where God meets us, and sees us fully for who we are, and blesses us, and sends us back into our world?
When you or I are not being "seen" it's time to look for the spring, that well in the desert. God will meet us. See us. Bless us. Send us back into our world knowing that He sees.
2 comments:
It's kind of surprising that Hagar's name for God isn't one of His better known ones. There's such intimacy and tenderness and hope wrapped up in that name. I recently had an experience with God that touched me to the core of my being. Regardless of what we do in life, so many of our markers of success are tied to how much we do and how well we do it. As pastors there's the added pressure of knowing that we who presume to preach and teach God's Word are held to a higher standard. Ordination just seemed to push my perfectionism into overdrive. But at a spiritual retreat, the God Who Sees Me whispered to me that even if I never do anything else of value for His kingdom for the rest of my life, He will love me and I will not lose my place at His table. I felt such a sense of God's peace and love for me. It's not so much that I doubted His love, it's more that I have always felt so compelled to do, do, do for Him because of all He has done for me, and that can wear on my soul. And having Him speak to my heart like this somehow took a lot of that weight off. It's not like I'm going to stop doing things for the Lord, but it doesn't feel like I owe it to God or that I'm answering His call on my life as much as it feels like the joy of a child who runs up to her Dad saying, "Look what I can do!"
It's kind of surprising that Hagar's name for God isn't one of His better known ones. There's such intimacy and tenderness and hope wrapped up in that name. I recently had an experience with God that touched me to the core of my being. Regardless of what we do in life, so many of our markers of success are tied to how much we do and how well we do it. As pastors there's the added pressure of knowing that we who presume to preach and teach God's Word are held to a higher standard. Ordination just seemed to push my perfectionism into overdrive. But at a spiritual retreat, the God Who Sees Me whispered to me that even if I never do anything else of value for His kingdom for the rest of my life, He will love me and I will not lose my place at His table. I felt such a sense of God's peace and love for me. It's not so much that I doubted His love, it's more that I have always felt so compelled to do, do, do for Him because of all He has done for me, and that can wear on my soul. And having Him speak to my heart like this somehow took a lot of that weight off. It's not like I'm going to stop doing things for the Lord, but it doesn't feel like I owe it to God or that I'm answering His call on my life as much as it feels like the joy of a child who runs up to her Dad saying, "Look what I can do!"
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