“Mom! Watch this! Watch me!”
“Did you see that, Mom?”
Little boys dangle upside-down from playground equipment; they leap from ledges and hurtle down slides. And this is their constant refrain, repeatedly called out to where I sit: Look at me. Watch me. Do you see me?
I may be decades older than them, but the cry of my heart is often the same. I plod through the never-ending tasks of homemaking, and no one is watching while I transfer laundry to the dryer or scrub the shower on hands and knees. I struggle to navigate how to use my gifts and passions for God’s glory in my particular context, and sometimes it feels like I am sitting on the sidelines, whispering to the coach: Do you see me?
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God’s answer to that heart question begins in Genesis with an unlikely character. When He reveals a new name of His for the first time, it’s not Enoch or Noah, not the “big three” of Abraham, Isaac or Jacob, who meet Him. It’s an abused, despised slave-concubine: Hagar.
I have an article up at Ungrind today reflecting on Hagar’s story and the present-day testimony of Sara Hagerty. So often, I have recognized that in my various struggles with sin, my main problem is that my eyes are on myself. I know I need to fix my eyes on Jesus--I wrote a 31-day blog series about it two years ago, for crying out loud!--and yet often I'm still not even sure how. I know that He is beautiful, but I don’t delight in His beauty. I know that He is good, but I do not taste His goodness.
These two women--one ancient, one modern--have been helping me think about seeing Him. Click over to read "Seeing the God Who Sees."