To be Seen, to be Known, & to be fully Loved

When I was in college, I remember being in a small room with two other people. As we were winding down for bed, they were deep in conversation, and I slowly drifted to sleep.

But as their voices filled the room, a sudden wave of sadness washed over me. I cried.
No—I wept.

I buried my face into the bedding and muffled my sobs. I wept silently but intensely. And though the room was small, no one noticed. They continued their conversation, unaware that the girl in the middle was quietly crying herself to sleep.

At first, it may seem like they were callous, unkind, and insensitive people. However, they weren’t unkind or callous. They were actually my friends, and I have no doubt that if they had realized what was happening, they would have immediately come to my aid. However, they were kind people who were so immersed in their conversation that they didn’t see me—though I was in front of them.

That night, I learned something profound: it is possible to be in the presence of a hurting soul and lack the sensitivity to discern it.

It is one of the most haunting paradoxes of the human experience: to be surrounded by people yet emotionally isolated.
To stand in a crowded room and still live in silence.

A quiet irony: to be seen by many, yet known by none.

And recently, I felt this way again.

I was surrounded by chatter, laughter, and noise, yet I felt invisible. My heart ached, but no one discerned it. I had just finished crying, yet no one noticed. I retreated to my car to sit, to think, to breathe—and there, the Lord reminded me of an everlasting truth:

He is El Roi. And He sees me.

In the Bible, Hagar was Sarah’s slave. When Sarah was unable to conceive, she gave Hagar to Abraham as a concubine, hoping Hagar would bear him a child—an accepted cultural practice at the time. When Hagar became pregnant, she likely began to feel a sense of superiority, for she could conceive while Sarah could not. Sarah, angered by this, mistreated Hagar so severely that Hagar ran away (Genesis 16:6).

Alone and distressed in the wilderness, God reached out to her.

As a slave in Abraham’s household, Hagar likely knew of the Lord. She must have seen Abraham and Sarah worship Him, perhaps even participated in their religious practices. But did she truly know Him?

Whether she knew Him or not, God knew her.

He heard her cry of distress (Genesis 16:11). He spoke to her, comforted her, and encouraged her. He foretold the destiny of her unborn child and instructed her to name him Ishmael—“because the Lord has heard your cry.”

A slave girl. Pregnant. Alone. In a foreign land. With little hope.
Yet she received comfort and renewed hope—because she encountered the One who sees her.

Years later, after her son had grown, Hagar found herself wandering again. This time, she had been sent away by the very man who had fathered her child. I often wonder how she felt. Did she feel used? Betrayed? It had been Sarah’s idea for her to sleep with Abraham—why was she being cast out now, with her child?

She wandered until the water ran out. With no resources left, she placed her son under a tree and walked away, unable to watch him die. And she wept.

And there—El Roi encountered her again.

God heard the cry of the boy and responded. He encouraged Hagar and showed her a well of water. In that moment, God fulfilled the promise He had made years earlier—to care for her and her son. Once again, His faithfulness was revealed. His presence was made known in a moment of utter abandonment.

This story reveals the nearness and kindness of God. It reminds me that even when I feel alone and unseen, I am never truly alone.

El Roi sees.
And not only does He see—He hears.

In Hebrew, the word shema (“to hear”) does not merely mean to listen. It means to listen and respond. So when God hears us, He acts on our behalf.

And that should bring comfort to the weary soul.

He doesn’t just see us.
He knows us.
And He loves us—even when we fail.

So this is for those who have felt abandoned.
For those betrayed by family or friends,
For those who have lost someone they love,
For the widow,
For the single mother struggling to care for her children,
And even for those who cannot pinpoint the reason for the loneliness they deeply feel—take heart, my friend.

El Roi sees you.