El Roi: The God Who Sees

I hung up the phone and gripped the steering wheel until my knuckles turned white.

The knot in my throat felt like it was going to explode.

So I let it.

The tears came fast and hard.

Not the pretty tears.

The ugly, mascara-running kind.

As the miles disappeared beneath my tires, I cried out loud to God.

Have you ever had one of those seasons?

The kind where you pray, but your prayers feel unheard. Where you hurry...only to wait. Where doors seem to close faster than they open, and nothing feels within your control.

The truth is...

It isn't.

That season had completely drained me. My schedule was full, but my soul was empty. It felt like every day was another meeting, another deadline, another early morning, another long drive. I was doing everything I knew to do, yet nothing seemed to be moving.

That morning, I made one more phone call, hoping for good news.

Instead, I got an answer I didn't want to hear.

It was enough to send me over the edge.

Somewhere between the freeway and the hotel, I finally prayed the only prayer I had left.

"God...I just need something. Anything. Give me something tangible to hold onto because I'm not sure how much longer I can keep doing this."

I wasn't asking Him to explain everything.

I just needed to know He was there.

By the time I pulled into the hotel, I had managed to pull myself together...at least enough to function.

I stay at this hotel often for work, so I've gotten to know many of the staff.

One of the valets is named Moon.

Yes...like the moon in the sky.

Every time I pull in, he smiles and says,

"Hello, Compassion Lady!"

My license plate says COMPASSION, so that's become my nickname.

And every time I answer,

"Hello, Light in the Darkness."

It's just become our thing.

But this day was different.

Honestly, I didn't have the energy for our usual banter.

Turns out, I didn't need it.

Before I could even unbuckle my seatbelt, Moon was standing at my door with the biggest grin on his face.

"Compassion Lady," he said, "I have a message for you."

He reached into his pocket and handed me a folded index card.

I opened it.

"Have compassion on me, Lord, for I am weak. Heal me, Lord, for my bones are in agony. I am sick at heart. How long, O Lord, until You restore me?"— Psalm 6:2–3

I just stared at it.

Then I started laughing...

...and crying...

...at the exact same time.

Poor Moon probably thought I had completely lost my mind.

Here's what amazes me.

Moon had no idea what kind of morning I'd had.

He had no idea I'd spent the last hour crying out to God.

He had no idea I had just asked God for something tangible to hold onto.

And I have no idea how long he'd been carrying that Scripture in his pocket.

Maybe hours.

Maybe days.

Maybe weeks.

But I know exactly what God was doing.

He was reminding me that He still sees His children.

One of my favorite stories in Scripture is found in Genesis 16.

A young woman named Hagar is pregnant, rejected, and running for her life. She's alone in the wilderness with no idea where she's going.

The wilderness wasn't where she expected to meet God.

But that's exactly where He found her.

Not after everything was fixed.

Not once she'd escaped the desert.

Right there in the middle of it.

After that encounter, Hagar gave God a name.

El Roi.

The God who sees me.

I love that.

Because for most of my life, I thought my greatest need was for God to change my circumstances.

Now I know my greatest need wasn't changed circumstances.

It was knowing that God saw me.

Because sometimes the greatest miracle isn't getting out of the wilderness.

Sometimes, the greatest miracle is discovering that Jesus was already there waiting for you.

That day, God used a valet named Moon...

a little light in the darkness...

to remind me that He saw my tears.

He heard every prayer I whispered on that drive.

He knew my circumstances.

He knew the plan.

He knew the timing.

Not long after I got to my room, my phone rang.

It was the phone call I had hoped for earlier.

"I've never seen it work out like this…” she said.

I smiled through my tears.

Not because every problem had disappeared.

But because I realized something.

I thought I needed God to change my circumstances.

Instead...

He first reminded me of His presence.

Sometimes we're so focused on asking God to get us out of the wilderness that we miss the fact that He's already with us in it.

Maybe today you feel like Hagar.

Maybe you've been praying prayers that feel like they're bouncing off the ceiling.

Maybe you're wondering if God even sees what you're carrying.

Can I encourage you?

He does.

He sees every tear you've cried.

He hears every whispered prayer.

He knows every burden you're carrying.

You may feel forgotten.

But you have never been unseen.

Because He is still El Roi.

The God who sees.