The ache of 06/21/2021 names a day when an ordinary neighborhood became a place of gunfire, fear, police tape, and isolation. The public record could tell part of the story, a cop, a killer, a good guy with a gun, and three people dead. The private ache carried something else: witnesses, survivors, victims, officers openly weeping, neighbors hemmed in, loved ones unable to get in, and people longing to be seen.
The grief of that day presses into the question of what the world cannot see and may never know. The news crews could leave quickly because “only three people died,” but the people inside the event carried the complexity, the terror, and the pieces that would never be written about. The longing underneath it all was simple and deep: someone needed to see, to hold, to make well, to come close when no one could actually get through the barriers.
Genesis gives that longing a name through Hagar. Hagar’s story is hard, full of abuse, power struggles, and people in pain inflicting pain in the name of God. Hagar runs away in her suffering, and in her running she runs smack into God. God does not cause her suffering, and God does not fix it in a neat or traditional way, but God sees her tear-stained cheeks and says, in effect, “You matter. You are beloved.” Hagar becomes the first human voice in Scripture to give God a name that sticks: El Roi, the God who sees me.
Mark gives the longing another body in the woman who reaches for Jesus in the crowd. Jesus is hurried, hassled, tired, frustrated, and surrounded by people who want a piece of him. Yet the woman risks reaching out because she believes that if Jesus sees her, even for one split second, healing can break in. In that moment she sees Jesus, Jesus sees her, and both are seen in the place where faith says the burden is not carried alone.
The invitation of the people of God rests here: whole people can still feel wholly broken, neglected, overlooked, beaten down, paralyzed by fear and grief and loss. The God who sees does not erase every wound at once, but the God who calls his children beloved sends voices, hugs, prayers, and patient witnesses until healing comes. Hagar discovered this in the wilderness. The woman discovered it in the crowd. The survivor discovered it on one of humanity’s darker days: El Roi sees.
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Key Takeaways
- 1. Being seen can become balm [44:33] Being seen may not physically fix the thing that is broken. The ache may remain, the story may still hurt, and the world may still miss the depth of what happened. Yet the gaze that says “you are not alone” can become the only balm available in a moment when rescue cannot get through. [44:33]
- 2. Hagar names the seeing God [46:13] Hagar meets God not in safety, but in flight. Human sin has wounded her, and God’s presence does not pretend that pain is small or simple. El Roi becomes a holy name because God sees the one pushed aside and gives dignity before circumstances have been repaired. [46:13]
- 3. Faith reaches through crowded pain [48:18] The woman in Mark reaches for Jesus from a place of desperation and risk. Her faith is not polished or public; it is a trembling reach from the edge of the crowd. Jesus’ seeing does not shame her need, but draws her hidden suffering into mercy and healing. [48:18]
- 4. Healing comes with patient witnesses [51:06] The hugs and voices after trauma do not make grief quick or easy. They become signs that healing can come because someone is willing to sit close until it does. God’s seeing often arrives through human presence that refuses to rush pain or abandon the wounded.
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