Where did you come from, where are you going?

Besides totally putting me in mind of Flannery O'Conner (which, shame on me for passing up everything she has written for another Steeple House novel last night!), this part of genesis 16 is one of the first in Genesis that really resonates with me as The Way God Is. Reading it yesterday alongside John 4, I almost-kind-of-got the continuity between God, here, and Christ, in the gospel. For Hagar, and for the woman at the well, the Centurion's son, the man by the pool, the fundamental difference between Christ and everyone else is that Christ saw them. He knew who they were, and it mattered to Him. Not because they were anything significant themselves -- not according to those around them -- but because they were, are, of infinite worth to Christ. To God. He loved them.

My spate of theological back-and-forth with W., my ex boyfriend -turned-lawyer, basically got shut down when I took his idea -- that you are as valuable as you are valued, that for you to be valuable, someone must value you -- and said: does that mean that you, W., who had two parents and friends and whoever that love you, are simply more lovable than a kid in Congo who has no one? And... well... yes, basically. That is the idea.

Basically, yeah, Sarai is worth more than Hagar; she was Abram's wife first. here Hagar has done for Abram what Sarai could not do, and it's not enough; Sarai is still the real wife, and Hagar is still her property. That's painful, right? the belief -- after so long of feeling bad -- that you are seen, that you are enough. And the shock when dude turns around next day and tells his wife: whatever. She's yours. While you have his child inside you.

And in large ways or small ways, I think those moments of shame, of spite, are universal. And it's God, here, who interrupts it. Hagar, because you matter, because I am interested, here, solely in you, tell me where you're going. Tell me where you've come from, what's happened. Speak for yourself, instead of being spoken for. Let me hear and see who you are.

Which is all I need, though when I turn from that it starts to seem I need all these other things. Because at the same time that I want to be seen as all these things apart from who I actually am -- successful, commanding, vivacious, desirable -- I also have this deep need to be seen as I am, not in relation to others, to my work, to my Identity. Just to be seen, not even necessarily approved of, not vindicated. Possibly sent back to a situation that feels uncomfortable, that feels debasing. But first, seen. Accepted, or challenged, or called the task, for who I am, rather than for all the things I am not.