“She gave this name to the Lord who spoke to her: ‘You are the God who sees me,’ for she said, ‘I have now seen the One who sees me.’” – Genesis 16:13 (NIV)
We all have moments when we feel invisible—overlooked, misunderstood, forgotten. We wonder if anyone really sees us or understands what we’re going through. But in Scripture, we encounter El Roi, “The God Who Sees.” He is not distant or indifferent. He sees, He hears, and He cares.
The name El Roi comes from a surprising and tender encounter in Genesis 16. Hagar, an Egyptian servant, finds herself in a desperate situation. She’s been mistreated by Sarai and cast out into the desert while pregnant and alone. Her life is unraveling.
But in her distress, the angel of the Lord finds her near a spring. He calls her by name. He speaks hope into her situation. And Hagar does something remarkable—she names God. She calls Him El Roi, the God who sees me. She recognizes that even in isolation, she is not invisible to the Lord.
This is not just Hagar’s story. It’s ours.
When you feel abandoned—God sees you.
When you are mistreated or overlooked—God sees you.
When you run out of answers—God sees you.
When you don’t know which way to go—God sees you.
El Roi doesn’t just notice us; He engages us. He steps into our stories. He meets us at our worst with compassion and purpose.
We see this again in the New Testament. In Luke 7, Jesus approaches a funeral procession. A widow is grieving the death of her only son. In that culture, she has lost not only someone she loves but also her source of protection and provision. She is vulnerable and heartbroken.
And what does Jesus do? He sees her.
He’s not too busy. He doesn’t look away. “When the Lord saw her, his heart went out to her and he said, ‘Don’t cry.’” (Luke 7:13, NIV). Then He raises her son back to life. In that moment, El Roi—through Jesus—moves with compassion, heals what’s broken, and restores what’s been lost.
El Roi doesn’t just see our pain—He enters into it.
And that changes everything.
It means you’re never beyond His gaze or His grace. He doesn’t wait for us to have it all together. He shows up in the wilderness, in the grief, in the desperation. He sees your tears, your doubts, your weariness—and He meets you with comfort and direction.
Like Hagar, you might not be where you wanted to be. Life may have taken a painful turn. But even there—especially there—you can encounter the God who sees.
So what does this mean for your life this week?
You are not just a face in the crowd. You are not forgotten in the wilderness. You are not abandoned in your pain.
You are seen.
El Roi is still the God who notices, who pursues, and who responds. When you can’t see a way forward, trust the One who sees you completely—and loves you endlessly.
Lift your eyes to the One who sees.
We all have moments when we feel invisible—overlooked, misunderstood, forgotten. We wonder if anyone really sees us or understands what we’re going through. But in Scripture, we encounter El Roi, “The God Who Sees.” He is not distant or indifferent. He sees, He hears, and He cares.
The name El Roi comes from a surprising and tender encounter in Genesis 16. Hagar, an Egyptian servant, finds herself in a desperate situation. She’s been mistreated by Sarai and cast out into the desert while pregnant and alone. Her life is unraveling.
But in her distress, the angel of the Lord finds her near a spring. He calls her by name. He speaks hope into her situation. And Hagar does something remarkable—she names God. She calls Him El Roi, the God who sees me. She recognizes that even in isolation, she is not invisible to the Lord.
This is not just Hagar’s story. It’s ours.
When you feel abandoned—God sees you.
When you are mistreated or overlooked—God sees you.
When you run out of answers—God sees you.
When you don’t know which way to go—God sees you.
El Roi doesn’t just notice us; He engages us. He steps into our stories. He meets us at our worst with compassion and purpose.
We see this again in the New Testament. In Luke 7, Jesus approaches a funeral procession. A widow is grieving the death of her only son. In that culture, she has lost not only someone she loves but also her source of protection and provision. She is vulnerable and heartbroken.
And what does Jesus do? He sees her.
He’s not too busy. He doesn’t look away. “When the Lord saw her, his heart went out to her and he said, ‘Don’t cry.’” (Luke 7:13, NIV). Then He raises her son back to life. In that moment, El Roi—through Jesus—moves with compassion, heals what’s broken, and restores what’s been lost.
El Roi doesn’t just see our pain—He enters into it.
And that changes everything.
It means you’re never beyond His gaze or His grace. He doesn’t wait for us to have it all together. He shows up in the wilderness, in the grief, in the desperation. He sees your tears, your doubts, your weariness—and He meets you with comfort and direction.
Like Hagar, you might not be where you wanted to be. Life may have taken a painful turn. But even there—especially there—you can encounter the God who sees.
So what does this mean for your life this week?
- Believe that you are seen. Even if no one else understands your struggle, God does. Let that truth settle into your heart.
- Slow down to see others. We reflect God’s heart when we pause to really see those around us—especially the hurting, the lonely, and the overlooked.
- Run to the spring, not away from it. Hagar was found at a spring. In Scripture, water often symbolizes life and refreshment. Come to Jesus, the Living Water, and find rest for your soul.
- See truth over your story. Hagar gave God a name based on her experience. You can, too. What name is God writing into your current season—Provider, Healer, Peace, Redeemer? Say it aloud. Remember it often.
You are not just a face in the crowd. You are not forgotten in the wilderness. You are not abandoned in your pain.
You are seen.
El Roi is still the God who notices, who pursues, and who responds. When you can’t see a way forward, trust the One who sees you completely—and loves you endlessly.
Lift your eyes to the One who sees.
Posted in Name