I’m Hagar, Sarai’s servant. For most of my life, I was seen as nothing but a servant. I was never really seen as a person; I had no say in anything, no worth apart from what I could do for others, how I could serve them.
When my master, Sarai, found out that she couldn’t have children, she saw me as an object, a tool to give away to her husband Abram. Sarai used me so she could have children. Sarai’s plan worked; I got pregnant. I thought she would be happy, even if I felt miserable for myself, but she wasn’t. Sarai despised me, she threatened me, and Abram told her to do with me as she pleased. Sarai dealt with me harshly. But why? I gave her what she wanted. This time, I was more useful than she was! I did what she couldn’t!
I admit I was prideful. I admit I felt superior to her for a moment. But in the end, she’s still my master. She still had the upper hand. She treated me worse than before, after my pregnancy.
So I ran. I ran into the wilderness. I couldn’t take it anymore. I’m so done with this. I’m pregnant and alone. I’m forgotten. I’m unwanted. I’m small. No one sees me; no one ever will.
But what? But how? In this abandoned place, in this wilderness, someone found me—not to mock me or punish me for running away, but just to be with me and listen to me and care for me. He spoke to me. He called me by name.
This isn’t just any god. This is the God who sees. He is the God that watches over me, not only when things are going great in my life, but most especially when they aren’t. He was there, watching over me even when I didn’t notice, even when I felt unseen and forgotten. His eyes never left me.
He saw my pain. He saw my brokenness. He saw my fear. He even saw who my son will be. And because He saw me, all of me, I was replenished. Being seen by Him gave me the strength to go back to Sarai. I’m not going back because maybe something in Sarai changed, but because something in me did. I changed.
That’s the beauty of it all, of the situation I’m in. I thought my life was meaningless, that I would always just be broken. But that’s not it. The light in all this isn’t that God changes our situation; it’s that He changes us in the middle of it all: the struggle, the hardship, the pain. Nothing in my life became easier. Sarai was still the same Sarai, and Abram was still the same Abram. It was God meeting me and seeing me that changed everything.
I wasn’t just a servant anymore. I’m someone who God sees. And He loves me.
Are there areas in my life right now where I feel that my worth and work is going unseen?
As today’s word helps me find myself today, what do I find myself wanting to say to God?
How long, oh God?
How long do I have to wait for You to come to my rescue?
I don't understand Your plan. I'm supposed to be living in an answered prayer. Other women crave nothing but a man’s attention, yet I find favor in my husband’s sight. Elkanah gives me twice as many portions of sacrifices as he gives Penniah, his other wife. But, I am not happy, and I will never be contented. Because deep down inside my heart, I long for a child of my own.
When Penniah looks at her children, she smiles. I see her eyes light up, and I want a piece of that, too. I want to know what it feels like to be called “Mama.” To have a baby I can call my child. To cradle his head when he cries. To wrap my arms around his little body.
So how long, oh God, do I have to wait for You to open my womb?
My heart can no longer bear the ache of Penniah’s words. She mocks me. She says, “You will never know the joy of having a child like me!” Year after year, she gets away with it. And, year after year, I still wait for You to come and save me from my agony.
Lord, I know that You know what’s best for me. I want to trust You and wait upon You because I know You are always faithful.
But, I'm tired of it all. I'm tired of yearning to find my place in this house. I’m tired of pouring my whole heart out to you, with my knees on the ground, shouting, “God, are you listening to me at all?”
Please do not forget me. Remember me, oh God, and remind me of who You are.
I am Hannah, your maidservant.
Let me find favor in Your sight.
Let me have a son, and I will give him back to You all the days of his life.
I sit in silence as I notice the emotions stirring within me. What feelings are bubbling to the surface as I read this passage?
What am I longing for God to do for me?
I lost my husband. I have been left alone. Where do I go from here?
I feel helpless and hopeless. I’m afraid of what will happen to me and my children. I need protection from my enemy. Where can I go for help?
There’s one I can go to – the judge. He does not fear God and he has a bad reputation for judging unjustly. I do not trust the system. But I’m desperate and this is the only way to seek justice.
I go and knock at the judge’s door. Silence.
I knock again. Silence again.
This is the only help and hope that I have, I must go again. I keep knocking, pleading, my hope slowly shattering.
I feel discouraged.
How long will this be and will I ever receive justice? But I will persist. I will not give up. I must continue on. Again and again.
FINALLY! He hears my plea and gives me justice.
This has just been so difficult. But I praise God because is just and He is trustworthy. I take comfort that my God is not like this judge. My God knows what I’m going through, He hears my cry, and He sees my tears. He is ALWAYS ready and available to hear my heart.
What ongoing prayers have been on my heart?
What has been motivating my persistence in praying these to God?