The God Who Sees You (Even in the Desert)

When You’ve Been Used, Rejected, and Left to Wander—He Still Comes Looking

May 06, 2025

There’s a kind of silence that settles over you when everything breaks.

It’s the silence after rejection.
The stillness after being used.
The confusion of being told to go, and then being forgotten.

Maybe you’ve felt that kind of silence. Hagar did too.

She didn’t ask for the life she was handed. She didn’t ask to be brought into Abraham and Sarah’s dysfunction. But when things got tense, she was the one they discarded. So she ran. Pregnant. Alone. Into the wilderness.

And that’s where God found her.

Where Does God Actually Show Up?

We say God is everywhere, but sometimes, He feels absent in the moments we need Him most, like when we’re overwhelmed, betrayed, or standing in the fallout of someone else’s bad decisions.

But Isaiah 57:15 tells us something shocking:

“For thus says the One who is high and lifted up, who inhabits eternity, whose name is Holy: ‘I dwell in the high and holy place, and also with him who is of a contrite and lowly spirit…’”

God doesn’t just hang out in the holy places. He dwells with the crushed. He draws near to the hurting.

And that’s what happened with Hagar.

She didn’t go looking for God. But He came looking for her.

He Found Her in the Wilderness

Genesis 16 says, “The angel of the Lord found her by a spring of water.”

Not in a church. Not in a palace. In the middle of nowhere.

That’s when Hagar gives God a name no one had used before: El Roi — “the God who sees me.”

She was invisible to the people in power. But not to Him.

Sometimes, when your world caves in, you don’t need rescue as much as you need to be seen. To be reminded that you matter. That your story isn’t over. That your pain is not wasted.

God saw her. And He sees you too.

When You’re Sent Back Into the Hard Place

The first time, God told Hagar to return to Abraham and Sarah, but not without a promise.

She would bear a son, and her child would grow into a nation. She wasn’t returning empty-handed. She was returning with God’s word over her life.

I’ve had moments like that, where I didn’t get delivered, but I did get direction. And that changed everything.

God’s presence doesn’t always lead us out. Sometimes it leads us through.

Rock Bottom Isn’t the End

Years later, in Genesis 21, it happens again.

Hagar is cast out a second time. This time with her son. She wanders in the wilderness of Beersheba. She runs out of water. She places her boy under a bush and walks away so she doesn’t have to watch him die.

And then... God shows up again.

He hears the boy’s cries. He opens Hagar’s eyes to a well. He reminds her of His promise.

I don't know what it is if that’s not a picture of Isaiah 57:15.

What If God Lives in the Low Places?

We want God to be in the victories. The mountaintops. The resolutions.

But Scripture says again and again—He meets people in the dust.

When we feel like we’re on the outside, exiled and used up, He draws near.

“The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit.” (Ps. 34:18)

You don’t have to climb your way back to Him. He’s already walked into the mess. Right where you are.

Come Thirsty. Like Hagar Did.

Near the end of the Bible, there’s this beautiful invitation:

“Let the one who is thirsty come; let the one who desires take the water of life without price.” (Rev. 22:17)

God showed her a well when Hagar was at her lowest, dying of thirst.

And He still does.

To everyone who’s wandered into the wilderness, doubting their worth or future, He offers living water. No payment. No shame. Just grace.

You are seen.

You are not forgotten.

And you are not alone in the desert.

He’s still El Roi. And He still meets us there.

Ask yourself these questions:

When have you felt unseen or discarded?
Not too long ago, there was a season when I gave everything I had to a ministry role, only to feel like I was slowly being erased. I wasn’t angry... just empty. I wondered if I’d misunderstood God’s direction this season, or worse—if I’d somehow disqualified myself. I didn’t want applause. I just wanted to serve the King. And when that sense of purpose started to slip, it felt like I disappeared with it.
Where might God be meeting you in this low place?
In the quiet. In the moments where I finally stop trying to make sense of it all and breathe. I’ve noticed that when the noise dies down—when there’s no one left to impress—God speaks the clearest. Not through fireworks. Through nearness. Through reminders, He saw the whole thing unfold and hasn’t walked away.
Are you clinging to the “middle space” of self-sufficiency?
More than I’d like to admit. I like having a plan. I like being capable. But I’ve realized that when I try to live from my strength, I miss the beauty of being carried. The middle space is safe, but it’s hollow. And the older I get, the less interested I am in a “safe” life. I want one marked by God’s presence—even if it means walking through the wilderness to find it.