Nothing escapes His sight, His justice, or His timing. And it is only a matter of time before He acts.
In the light of what we’re seeing today, it brought me to Hagar today—the woman in the Bible who thought she was unseen, unheard, and unprotected.
And yet, in the wilderness, God revealed Himself to her as the God who sees.
Her moment wasn’t soft or poetic.
It was raw
It was desperate
It was a collision between human suffering and divine attention.
And that revelation still speaks with force into what we’re witnessing in America right now.
Because just as in Hagar’s story, there are people—both the righteous and the wicked—who believe their faith, their lives and plans, or the systems, and sinister secrecy agencies can shield them from the eyes of God.
Some believe their power will protect them. Others believe their darkness will hide them.
Still others believe their manipulation, gaslighting, and public narratives will keep the truth buried.
But Hagar’s declaration cuts through all of that:
“You are the God who sees me.”
The God who saw a mistreated servant in the desert is the same God who sees every hidden thing happening today.
He sees the vulnerable
He sees the little ones
He sees the cries no one else hears.
He sees the suffering that has been ignored, minimized, or denied.
He sees the things done in darkness that people assume will never come to light.
Hangar’s testimony says otherwise.
Hagar wasn’t a woman standing in strength when she said, “You are the God who sees me.”
She was a woman running.
A woman mistreated.
A woman with child, alone, and pushed to the margins.
A woman who had every earthly reason to believe she was invisible.
And yet—God found her.
Not in a palace
Not in a sanctuary
Not in a moment of triumph
But in the wilderness, by a spring, where she had collapsed under the weight of her story.
Her declaration wasn’t theological polish, and neither are the stories of wounded and hidden children—molested and murdered children—with names and stories.
Gasping for relief
Crying out of desperation
“GOD, DO YOU SEE, me?”
I use Hagar’s story because, like many of us who feel unseen and who see no justice in our lives or in the lives of the wounded, hidden, and abused, Hagar realized—maybe for the first time in her life—that she was not unseen, not forgotten, not discarded.
And neither are the babies, the women, children both boys and girls, and our brothers and sisters, the victims, of Epstein or any others victimised by the sinister systems out to make us look like fools, nor are we invisible to Jesus—the overcomers in Christ.
When Hagar said, “You are the God who sees me,” she was naming Adonai from the place of her deepest wound.
She was saying:
You see the injustice done to me.
You see the child I carry.
You see the truth no one else acknowledges.
You see the suffering that others overlook.—
You see me when I am far from home and far from help. Lord, knows I know this experience all too well.
And that same God— El Roi, the One who saw a mistreated servant girl in the desert—is the God who sees every hidden thing happening in our nation and beyond.
He sees the vulnerable.
He sees the little ones.
He sees the schemes done in darkness.
He sees our weary hearts trying to hold on.
He sees the ones crying out for justice.
He sees the ones who have been pushed aside, silenced, isolated, and dismissed.
Hagar’s story is a reminder that God’s seeing is not passive.
It is not observational.
It is not distant.
His seeing is the beginning of His intervention.
He sees—and then He speaks.
He sees—and then He warns.
Prophets are not obsolete.
He sees—and then He acts.
He sees—and then He restores.
Today, I encourage everyone to repent of all divisiveness and argumentative chatter about the higher‑ups—because no one will escape things they’re working so hard to suppress.
The One who sees—sees it.
Focus on Jesus,
Sister Christine 🛡️
Christine Beach©️