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Friday, July 17, 2009

RE: The God Who Sees Me

I have had this story in my head and half written for a few months now. The phrase, "The God Who Sees Me" has been echoing over and over again in my spirit. When I write these stories, it is a fictional representation based on historical reference but also includes some of my own feelings and struggles. I never get tired of reading the timeless stories found in the Bible. His Word is truly living and so very relevant. When I read the story of Hagar back in March, I couldn't help but feel the emotion behind the story in Genesis 16. I began wondering where Hagar came from, what she had dreamed of when she was a young girl and how her current situation probably looked nothing like her dream. Sound familiar? It sure does to me. I ran into a friend the other day at a shop. We had not seen each other for some time and I joked that I was currently working on Plan F. I do that. I cover what I am really feeling with humour. My doctor called me on it a couple of weeks ago when she reminded me of my age and the ever-decreasing chances of having children, but that's a whole other story...

So many of us formulate the perfect plan, the amazing dream for our lives, only to grow up to be an adult and realize that the dream seems impossible and that the reality of life in this fallen world crushes and steals so many of our dreams. I am currently walking through such a desert place where it appears useless to hold onto those things I dreamed of. I find myself thinking negatively about the future and have allowed some of those thoughts to surface in spoken form, for it seems I could not be living further from what I always dreamed of.

In the middle of all of this, God keeps whispering, "I am the God who sees you." Right now, all I can do is hold on to those words. I am not forgotten.

Thursday, July 16, 2009

The God Who Sees Me

As she sat in the unrelenting heat of the desert sun, the ubiquitous dust mixed with salty tears that dared to spill, forming muddy tracks down her sunburned cheeks. "What is this place?", she wondered. She had not passed this way before. A stranger. Just like her name. Hagar. As much as she felt she was not born for this place, this wilderness, she was just as much an unwelcome stranger in the place from which she now fled. Abused. Unloved. Unwanted. She laughed in contempt at the very spot she now found herself. At a spring in the desert. Her thirst was unbearable, yet the one thing that would bring relief was also the one thing that would keep her alive - except to be alive was a curse. As she sat there, her thoughts travelled back to a much earlier time. So long ago that its memory seemed only a dream that faded with the dawn of the morning. Was that life real? Did I belong somewhere? Was there a time when I was called by a different name? Sometimes she thought she could smell the spices of Egypt or hear the laughter of her brothers and sisters. She imagined that her daddy was tall and handsome and her mother the most beautiful woman this side of the Nile. She looked into the pool of water and studied her face, the shape of her mouth, the colour of her eyes. Did she look like them? A stubborn teardrop fell, shattering the image in the pool. Hagar. Stranger. The only name she remembered. That, she knew, was very real.

Eventually, she found herself in the tents of Abram and Sarai. A servant. Servant sounded so much better than slave. She took some comfort in the fact that her masters feared God. Surely no harm would come to her. Then one day the unthinkable happened. She was given to her master to bear a child to carry on his name. And to think it was Sarai's idea. What was she thinking! Nothing good could come of this. Of that she was certain.

It did not take long to realize there was life growing inside of her. She had dreamed of this day since she was a young girl. As she lay in her tent a sarcastic laugh escaped her lips, for this was nothing like the dream. Wedding garments, a loving husband, happiness and a place to call home. All this replaced with rags, loneliness and shame. Alone. Would the ache in her heart ever go away? Was there hope enough for her? No. Hope taunted. Hope laughed at her pain. Hope disappointed. To have no hope was far more tolerable. You cannot be disappointed by that which you have not hoped for. Yes, hope was her enemy. And so bitterness took its root within her heart. Bitterness set her on the journey to this desert place. Bitterness kept her heart from aching. She would never feel again. No more tears. No more emotions. It was easier this way. This was survival. Which brought her back to the pool before her. To drink or not to drink. To choose life or death? She lay down beside the spring, too tired from the journey to make a decision just yet. Her heart was just too weary, too broken.

She must have fallen asleep, for the sun, now low in the sky, was not so fierce. All of a sudden her senses were sharpened. A very slight, cool breeze passed by her face, carrying with it a beautiful fragrance. She looked around for the source. Surely nothing could grow in this place. There it was again. Maybe the sun had just been too much for her that day. But no, for a third time she sensed it. She sat up and turned her face toward the sound of a gentle whisper. She found herself in the presence of the Almighty One. How is it that Yahweh would visit her, would take notice of her, the forgotten one? She proceeded to kneel, face down in the dust, for who could stand and look into His face and live? But no, He lifted her face toward Himself and spoke these words, "I AM the lifter of your head. Your face will no longer be bowed low. No more shame for I will tell you who you are meant to be. I have seen you in this desert place and I have caught each one of your tears. I have felt the hunger and aching in your heart. I have understood the longing for the dreams that you once dared to dream but have now been long forgotten. I have heard your crying when you thought no one was listening. You are not forgotten. You are most precious to Me. I will strengthen you for this journey. It is too much for you but it is not too much for Me. I will carry you the rest of the way through this desert and you will live again."


Hagar arose from the dust, took a long drink from the most refreshing spring and started on the path that would take her out of the desert place. "I will continue this journey for the sake of the God who sees me."