“So she called the name of the LORD who spoke to her, ‘You are a God of seeing,’ for she said, ‘Truly here I have seen him who looks after me’” (Gen. 16:13).

We love a good Cinderella story this time of year, don’t we? The underdog, overlooked team, nobody expected surprises and delights us. I think we like it because we all know what it’s like to be overlooked. underestimated. and unseen. Our study today focuses on someone like that: a slave, an outsider that Abraham and Sarah seem to look right past. Her name is Hagar, and she’s not overlooked by God.

The God Who Sees

Hagar’s story begins with a failure of faith. Sarai “took” and “gave,” and Abram “listened to her” (Gen. 16:2-3). The language echoes Genesis 3, where Adam and Eve grasped for control instead of trusting God. Hagar is caught in the middle of it all — used, mistreated, and driven away.

So she flees into the wilderness. And that’s where everything changes for her. “The angel of the Lord found her by a spring of water in the wilderness” (Gen. 16:7). Hagar doesn’t find God; God finds her, and when he speaks, he does something no one else has done. He calls her by name. “Hagar … where have you come from and where are you going?” (Gen. 16:8). To everyone else, she was “servant” (16:2,5,6), a tool to use or a problem to solve. But to God, she was Hagar.

Hagar doesn’t find God; God finds her, and when he speaks, he does something no one else has done. He calls her by name.

In a world of surface recognition, where we’re scanned and detected but not seen, it’s easy to feel like a number. But God sees. He doesn’t just see your existence, but “your affliction” (Gen. 16:11). And so Hagar names him: El Roi — “God of seeing … him who looks after me” (Gen. 16:13). If he saw her but didn’t care she might say, “he watches me,” but instead she says he “looks after me” — acknowledging his providential, compassionate oversight, right to the heart of who we are.

We see this same truth when Jesus meets Nathanael. Before they even get introduced, Jesus says, “Behold, an Israelite indeed, in whom there is no deceit!” (John 1:47). When Nathanael asks how he knows him, Jesus replies, “Before Philip called you, when you were under the fig tree, I saw you” (John 1:48). He saw who he really was in a private moment. Right then, Nathanael realized Jesus understood him. Before he was called, he was seen. That’s what Hagar discovered. The God who saw Hagar is the same God who sees us.

In Psalm 139, David declared, “O LORD, you have searched me and known me!” (Ps. 139:1). Psalm 139 describes how fully God sees us, wherever we go, even when we were in our mother’s womb he knew us and saw all of our days ahead. He clearly finds comfort, not fear, in being so fully known, because he trusts God’s love. Tim Keller said it well, “To be loved but not known is comforting but superficial. To be known and not loved is our greatest fear. But to be fully known and truly loved is, well, a lot like being loved by God.”

The God Who Hears

Years later, Hagar finds herself in the wilderness again. This time, she’s not alone; she now has a young son to look after in the desert. When the water runs out, she places him under a bush and walks away, unable to watch him die. Then, “she lifted up her voice and wept” (Gen. 21:16).

God doesn’t owe us anything, but he gives us his attention because we matter to him.

But “God heard the voice of the boy” (Gen. 21:17). Earlier, God had told Hagar to name her son Ishmael (Gen. 16:11). The name comes from combining a familiar Hebrew word, shema, or “hear” (as in Deuteronomy 6:4, “Hear O Israel“), with El (for God). But here it’s not a call for us to lean in and listen up to hear God. Instead, it declares a truth about our God. He is the God who hears us! So, sitting there with her son under a bush without water or hope, she sees that name come to life.

Hagar didn’t pray a polished prayer. She cried, and God heard. Remember this truth about prayer: We don’t need perfect words, volume, or eloquence. We can speak to God honestly — in the car, in the kitchen, in times of need or gratitude. Because he hears, we can ask specifically and repeatedly. God doesn’t owe us anything, but he gives us his attention because we matter to him. So come, “casting all your anxieties on him, because he cares for you” (1 Pet. 5:7).

In the wilderness, God’s people tend to lean on God more and to enjoy closeness as they walk with him, receiving his care.

The God Who Is Near

In both Genesis 16 and 21, the same pattern appears: wilderness and despair, followed by promise and provision. The wilderness is where Hagar feels most alone, yet it becomes the place where God draws closest. It’s a strange truth the Bible reinforces again and again: In the wilderness, God’s people tend to lean on God more and to enjoy closeness as they walk with him, receiving his care (Deut. 1:31; 2:7; Hos. 2:14-15; 13:5; Rev. 12:14). Many of us can look back on our hardest seasons with that same gratitude and awareness.

When Hagar had finally given up, God opened her eyes to a well of water (Gen. 21:19). She didn’t conjure the well out of thin air — it was already there, she just couldn’t see it. That moment helps us grasp something about our own lives. Spiritual practices like prayer, singing hymns, and reading Scripture don’t bring God closer. They help us notice the God who is already near. It’s like tuning a radio receiver to a signal; it can awaken us to his presence and to the care that has been with us all along.

The God who saw Hagar and heard her cry has come near in Jesus Christ.

We can trace Hagar’s story through the names that appear in these texts. Hagar — which means “stranger” or “runaway” — the outsider no one seemed to see, but it’s a name God himself spoke when he came to help her. El Roi — the name she called him — the God who sees. Then there’s Ishmael — her son’s name commemorating the fact that God hears. And we should add one more Hebrew name: Immanuel — the God with us. “They shall call his name Immanuel… (which means, God with us)” (Matt. 1:23). The God who saw Hagar and heard her cry has come near in Jesus Christ. He came to know our experience and “sympathize with our weaknesses” (Heb. 4:15). He came to live among us, die for us, and reign in us, our risen Lord. We don’t have to wonder if God notices us, and we don’t need to shout to be heard. We don’t have to wait until heaven to know that he’s near. The living God sees you and wants you always near him (James 4:8).