I heard clearly this morning- Isaiah 40. There I went.Often I do not know why the tears begin. Today was such a day. The verse which begins-Who measured the waters with the hollow of his hand…and I wept.

I put out my hand palm up, to make a little hollow. And I wept.

And he said- do you remember?

And I wept.

And I saw me- before I began in body- yet in the body of myself as a small girl. I am standing next to him. He gathers up all the waters from everywhere. It seems like this is how the animals gathered in Noah’s time. His hollow, in his hand, draws the water because he is thinking of her. And all the water from everywhere came. Even the water that would one day be a part of people came. His measure was in his gaze. Satisfied, delighted, and filled with perfect authority. Joy.

He looks at me and I know he is asking me to put my hand like his. My very small hand goes out, palm up, cupped, because I trust and do not need to know why. It is well to agree. I know nothing other than agreeing with him.

He transfers some of the water into my hand. I am awed by its nature. By its diversity. By its coming from all over the earth. I realize before it was scattered, it was gathered. And scattered though it might become, it will return again to gathered. It is a holy moment, as I carefully keep my hand cupped to carry what he offered.

You must go, he said. I look at him. I know he is not commanding me, but awakening what is already within me. You must, he continued. Because of all the glory. It is in you to do. He winked. And remember, I will be with you always, even unto the end of the age. He looks at his water, I look at mine and he reminisces about things to come. You need to return when it is time to handle the water again. You will be ready, then, to measure her too. Not as I do, but one with me as I do. He sighs. Know that you are more than flesh and blood, little one. The water, the blood and the Spirit agree. These will testify of you to the earth, and she will groan for you to become. He groaned. He said, I have put my groan within her, so she can recognize the transformation and cry holy.

He peered at me closely then. He showed me a picture of myself at 4. I was in the grass and twirling. I pulled a dandelion and blew and blew and blew until all its white straws were scattered. “Know me here”, was his command.

And I went.

The beginning before my beginning. El Roi. He the God who sees me. Selah.

This week in my blessings I have been so struck by God as El Roi, God who sees.
This has taken me into the life of Hagar.
She was brought into Abraham’s household, told she would be used to get the heir to the household, then was despised an eventually sent away. In all of that God did not reveal himself to her. Only in the place where she had intolerable conflict did he come. But he saw. He saw it all, so when he came, she could rest in knowing there was saw one who saw it all.
Today Father led me into the text.
I saw.
I saw what was in her heart when she conceived.
Suddenly she looked at Sarah as if Sarah was lesser than her.
Not because of something she had worked hard to develop.
Not a skill she had honed that caused her to shine superior.
But a conception.
Something that is God’s handiwork, not hers.
And because her undercurrents caused Sarah to deal harshly to her, she ran.
And that was where she met the Lord. His counsel for her to return and submit was mercy based.
He knew what was in her heart, how she would idolize her ability to conceive. He allowed it to be exposed so that he could right the order he had assigned her to. She was to birth a nation.

I see the times my own heart has looked at leaders and thought I was wiser than them. I see the places where I view what God has birthed in me as superior. I look at others on their journey and realize I am farther along and attribute it to me instead of to God. Lord, have mercy.

It is good for you to expose the places in my heart where I take credit. When it is not my credit but your glory.
Surely all that I have comes from your hand. Surely my healing is your divine work.
The glory is yours.

And I want to ask you today, reader, have you been taking credit for the things that God has done? Have you perceived that your conception was a value reflection on God’s part?

Humbly, I have repented today. There is no good in me apart from God. My breath comes from him and is for him. Any glory that comes belongs to him.

God who sees, see me. Create in me a clean heart. See if there be any wicked way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting. Not my work, but yours.

Amen.

When I was fourteen, I started 9th grade. I remember the threats beginning, promising pain and torture. I would be passing classes at school, and someone would whisper- get ready for the whale watching. I would get into history. A note would be on my desk, an my teacher would somehow insert the text of the note into the lesson. On the way home, reminders would come in the form of dead animals on my route, or blood written words on the sidewalks or posts. Sometimes a particular flower would be wrapped around the fence. The cult enjoyed their anticipation causing me fear. I was watched. And read. There was no escape. There had never been escape. And it was intolerable.

I remember my mom giving my sister and I a little money, then taking us to the local mall. We had three hours to shop and were to meet at a designated place/time for her to take us home.

I couldn’t. That was my loudest thought. I could not. Not anymore.

I knew I could not stay in town, they found me in 9 days last time. I decided to head north. Geography was very messed up by my training. So I decided to stay near the coast so I would not get turned around. I climbed the hill to the onramp for 8 headed west. From the beach I would go north. And I stuck out my thumb. In the mid seventies it was not such a big deal.

I ran away.

The outline of that six weeks is that I made it up to Washington state. Hitchhiking. Using my body for food and a place to stay sometimes. I traveled over a thousand miles north and then back down again. I had many adventures. Some good, many not. Probably the worst was when they found me. About 800 miles into my journey, a retired police officer picked me up. He was cult. Everything I had run away from, and more, were delivered to me over the next few weeks. They have different rules for the kids who might legitimately disappear. It was so hopeless. I thought I could never get away. Devastation facilitates more breaks. Internally I became more disconnected from my skin. I cry as I remember.

But the Lord has shown me that he was at the beach before I reached it. He was there during the times the abuse occurred. And he remained after I left, even while he accompanied me as I continued on.

He did not do what I wished he would do- stop it or hide me. Instead he did something that was very hard for him to do, thousands of years before I was born. He took what I could not, and is willing to take what is too hard for me. He does it for love. He will always do this for me. He does not serve my wish- he changes my realization that what he offers is the more perfect way. I love that about him. Sitting with him today, receiving his love and kindness, I am washed in gratitude again. Surely he does all things well- just look at my life!