Reflection of the Week – 16 June 2026

This is where the good news begins – not in power or control, but in being seen.

Posted Jun 16, 2026 in Faith

El Roi – the God who sees me

Genesis 16:1–15, 21:8–21 | Matthew 10:24–39 | Revelation 2:1–7

 

The story of Hagar the Egyptian, wife of Abraham (as opposed to Hagar the Viking whom I remember from my youth!), echoes across both Sunday’s and Monday’s readings. Hagar is a woman pushed to the margins, cast out into uncertainty, and left to fend for herself and her child. It is a story uncomfortably close to the reality that many in the world experience today, even in our own society: displacement, exclusion, and systems that discard the vulnerable. It is also disquieting that God is portrayed as complicit in the act of Hagar’s exclusion, though my own reading of this is that the story portrays how people at the time, in a patriarchal and superstitious society, made sense of difficult events.

Yet in the wilderness, something profound happens. God sees her, and not in some distant and abstract way, but intimately. Hagar names God “the God who sees me” (in Hebrew, El Roi). This is where the good news begins – not in power or control, but in being seen. And God is shown to be in solidarity with the one who is wronged.

Jesus’ words in Matthew take this further. “Do not be afraid,” he says, not because suffering isn’t real, but because fear does not have the final word. The God who notices every sparrow, who counts every hair, is not indifferent to human struggle. In a world that constantly measures worth by productivity, status, or belonging, Jesus insists on a deeper truth: you are already seen, already valued.

Paul’s words in Romans invite us into transformation. To be joined with Christ is to let go of the old scripts – fear, shame, systems of exclusion – and step into a new way of living shaped by grace. This is not just personal renewal; it is communal. It calls the Church into embodying that same radical belonging we receive.

But Revelation offers a gentle warning. It is possible to persevere, to do the right things, even to endure hardship – and yet lose our centre. “You have abandoned the love you had at first”. Faith can become routine, justice a duty, and we can lose sight of why we began; of our mission.

We are seen – we are freed from fear – we are called to live in love.

This is both a comfort and challenge. We are reminded that God’s heart is always with those on the edges – like Hagar and her son Ishmael – and that our vocation is to reflect that same compassion in how we live, advocate, and build community.

But we are also asked, are we still rooted in love, because in the end it is love, received and given, that sustains a life of faith and draws us back to the God who sees us.

– Clive Conway

 

Image: Hagar and Ishmael in the desert. A historical scan of an engraving by Gustave Doré, from the book La Sainte Bible, originally published in France in 1866.

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