El Roi ~ The God Who Sees

There weren’t many things that Hagar was certain of, but she was certain that her son was dying and that she couldn’t stand by and watch. So she hid. She was also certain that she had no where, no one, to turn to. She was an outcast. Rejected by her master, cast out by her son’s father. With no friends and no resources Hagar was in every sense of the word, alone.

Yet she wasn’t. And this wasn’t the first time she had hid in the desert. Nearly two decades earlier she found herself despised and rejected. Belly swollen with the same son who now waits to die, she ran away from all that she feared. And there in her fear, in the dessert, the angel of the Lord came to her. That day Hagar was comforted and she named the place where the Lord appeared to her Beer Lahai Roi, well of the Living One who sees me.

And now once again she finds herself in a desert place. Yet she had forgotten the promises spoken to her from the One who Sees. And in His rich mercy He again appears. For a second time the God who Sees sees Hagar. He sees and He provides water and life and hope.

 

The famine had finally made its way to her house. It was just the two of them, the widow and her son. The cupboards were bare save a handful of flour and a few drops of oil. Desperate with no one to turn to for help she does the only thing she knows to do.

She left the boy to go gather enough wood to cook their final meal and then watch her son slowly die of starvation. It is there that she meets the Prophet of God. Their meeting is not chance or coincidence, the God who Sees arranged it.

There she is presented with the opportunity to serve this Man of God, and she does. She fetches water for him. A momentary distraction from the reality of her situation, she willingly stops her work to give to the Prophet. And the God who Sees sees her. Sees her lack, sees her desperation, sees that with nothing to give she still gave. And the God who Sees sent provision, sent food, sent hope.

 

She was hot, and tired. Tired of drawing water at midday. Tired of the shame she wore. Tired of searching for love and never finding it. Once again she travels alone to the well to draw water for her family. But this day there was a man at the well. A man who wanted something from her. This she was used to, for there seemed to always be a man who wanted something from her. Today the man’s request was water. But there was something different about this man, he a Jew and her a Samaritan.

Over the course of their conversation she began to realize that this was no chance encounter with a random stranger. For this man didn’t really want water from her that day. No, He came to give her water. Living water. Water that leaves you satisfies and not empty.

This day she meets the God who Sees. And He sees more than her circumstances, He sees her heart. He sees past her physical need to the unspoken longing of her heart. He sees her pain, sees her loneliness, sees her need.  And the God who Sees offers her more than water for the body, He offers water for her soul, He offers hope.

 

 

I relate to all three of these women. For I too am a woman who often feels alone, a woman facing many needs, a woman with a longing heart. I often feel forgotten, unnoticed, overlooked. I worry about provision. I wonder about the future. I question the motives of my heart. And then I remember that the God who Sees sees me.

He sees me when I am strong and full of praise. He sees me when I am timid and afraid. He sees me when I cry in the night. He sees me when I feel alone and unloved. He sees me. Always. He sees and He knows and He provides. And because He sees I have hope.

“Let all the earth fear the Lord; let all the people of the world revere Him. For He spoke, and it came to be; He commanded, and it stood firm. The Lord foils the plans of the nations; He thwarts the purposes of the peoples. But the plans of the Lord stand firm forever, the purposes of His hear through all generations. Blessed is the nation whose God is the Lord, the people He chose for His inheritance. From heaven the Lord looks down and sees all mankind; from His dwelling place He watches all who live on earth—He who forms the hearts of all, who considers everything they do. No king is saved by the size of his army; no warrior escapes by his great strength. A horse is a vain hope for deliverance; despite all its great strength it cannot save. But the eyes of the Lord are on those who fear Him, on those whose hope is in His unfailing love, to deliver them from death and keep them alive in famine. We wait in hope for the Lord; He is our help and our shield. In Him our hearts rejoice, for we trust in his holy name. May your unfailing love rest upon us, O Lord, even as we put our hope in You.” Psalm 33:8-22

~Keri

Pruning

Growing up my parents owned a nursery and landscaping company. Most of my early childhood memories involve dirt. I learned to plant and water when I was just barely big enough to hold a hose. As I got older I learned to lay sod, fertilize plants, graft and prune. I was never very good at the pruning. My mom and I worked together. She would give me a quick lesson on each variety of plant and how it should be pruned, then she’d hand me pruning shears and turn me loose. As I would make my way down the row she would follow right behind me re-pruning every plant I pruned. No matter how many branches I cut away it was never enough for her.

If a branch had a flower or bud on it I’d leave it. If a plant started to look too sparse I’d move on. But not mom. No, she whacked away with a vengeance.

Every year it was the same. I would cut too little and she would come behind and cut mercilessly. Every year I questioned her. Begged her not to completely strip the plants back so severely. Every year she would tell me “Just wait. You’ll see. Next spring this plant will be so much bigger and do much stronger”. I couldn’t fathom how her destruction would bring forth new life.

My pruning made sense to me. I cut off the dead and dying branches so the healthy branches could have room to grow. Mom’s pruning didn’t make sense at all. It was just too brutal.

John 15 says that Jesus is the vine and we are the branches and that every branch that doesn’t produce fruit will be cut off and thrown into the fire. It doesn’t say every dead or dying branch will be cut off but every branch that doesn’t produce much fruit. I learned through years of experience that a plant can have many branches that look strong and healthy but don’t produce fruit. A plant can also have many branches that produce little fruit that when pruned yield a great harvest.

Lately I feel like God has been pruning me. And He prunes much more like my mom than me. I’ve been questioning Him a lot lately about the branches He’s cutting off. It seems like He has no intention of stopping until there is nothing left.

And maybe that is His goal.

I am the vine. You are the branches.

If God removes every branch then the only thing that remains is Christ. And isn’t that the desire of my heart? For me to decrease and Christ to increase?

So why do we fight so hard to hold on to that which doesn’t produce fruit? To that which covers up Christ? To that which appears healthy but is actually barren?

Is it fear? Fear of being stripped bare?

Is it pride? A desire to be seen and admired?

Is it comfort? A longing to keep that which is familiar?

Or is it simply the belief that the master Gardner can’t be trusted to shape our hearts?

It’s easy to trust the Gardner in the growing season when He holds a watering can. But in the latent season when pruning shears fill His hands? It’s harder to trust then.

And that’s another thing about pruning. It takes place during the dormant season when branches are stripped bare of leaves. When weather conditions are harsh and plants aren’t growing. Why is it that pruning seems to take place when the plant is most vulnerable?

Ideally for most plants pruning takes place right before the growing season, leaving fresh wounds exposed for only a short amount of time before new life springs forth.

And it’s the same for us.

The season of pruning proceeds a season of rapid growth. The wounds will heal in short time as they are sealed by new life. And the sparseness of our hearts will be covered over with a fresh outpouring of the Spirit of God.

Then, and only then, will we produce fruit. Much fruit.

And you will be called Oaks of righteousness, a planting of the Lord for the display of His splendor. Isa. 61: 3

~Keri

Night

It’s sunset outside my window and inside my heart. The sky to the east is dark, to the west it is fire. Night is wrapping itself upon the earth. The end of this day has come and now the long dark winter night settles in.

 

Just as this day is ending so is this chapter in my life. The chapter of marriage has come to an end for me. Night is closing in. And what light remains blazes in the night, burning the last remnants of what once was.

 

I tried so desperately to cling to the light. To stop the sun from setting on us. But I was as powerless to stop it as I am from stopping the earth from turning on its axis.

 

I know that tomorrow the sun will rise again. That light will flood my heart and warm my face. I know that this dark night will not last forever. That joy will come in the morning.

 

I also know that I am not alone here, in the darkest of nights. I know that there is One who stays with me, One who will never leave me or forsake me. The Light holds me in the darkness. Holds me close and I am not afraid.

 

I do not know how long this night will last. But I do know that there is purpose in the night. In Isaiah 45 God tells His anointed one:

 

“I will give you the treasures of darkness, riches stored in secret places, so that you may know that I am the Lord, the God of Israel.” Isa. 45:3

 

He is speaking of buried treasure. Priceless gifts set aside and kept in dark secret places under close lock and key. Hidden riches that belonged to God’s chosen one. Not only riches of silver and gold but the riches of knowing the God of Israel.

 

I look into this dark night and I wonder… I wonder what tomorrow will look like. I wonder what adventure it holds. What challenge it brings. I wonder a lot about the day ahead. But here, now, in the night I’m mining for treasure. I’m digging up gold and silver, truth and joy. I’m discovering freedom and grace. I’m uncovering mercy and love.

 

Here in the darkness I am finding God.

 

“The people walking in darkness have seen a great light; on those living in the land of the shadow of death a light has dawned.” Isa. 9:2

 

Here in the darkness the light of Christ shines brighter and I have nothing to fear.

~Keri