Listen Lord: We Hate it Here - Day Eight
Praying with Hagar
“You are the God who sees, for I have seen the One who sees me”
In this season of separation, we join in prayer with those who are unseen. Hagar’s story is special to so many Spirit-filled sisters I know. Her recorded sayings are few, but God’s attention to her is telling.
In Genesis 21, Hagar’s tears are her prayers. She’s been exploited and sexually abused by Abram and Sarai - the father and mother of great nations (how sway? a whole other homily). When she was pregnant with Abram’s son, she ran away then returned, she lived under God’s words to her and not her own wishes. Now she and her son have been cast out by the people who ordered them into this mess. Hagar and Ishmael are sent into the desert, with little rations for food and drink. Among all of Abram’s cattle and stores, no goodness could be spared for them. Sarai said it herself, Ishmael will not share the inheritance, the mother and son had no purpose.
“After the water is gone”, the nightmare truly begins. Hagar has been tenacious and steadfast, able to stand up for herself and demand dignity even in servitude. Here, however, she is rendered unable. She cannot bear the sight of her son passing away.
Here she begins praying as she has likely done so many times before to the God of her weary years, and silent tears. She is weeping. If the only phrase she can utter is “I cannot watch him die” this too is a prayer. I wonder how many people can only pray this much, can barely say this much. Lord, I cannot watch my loved one die, cannot bear the distance between myself and those who are hurting… or the distance between myself and the people who could soothe my hurt.
Yesterday I had the cutest and most spiritual experience ever, let the record show those two virtues are often hand in hand. I asked my two children what they would plan if they were children’s church ministers, and they took my family through a whole worship service. They taught me that children don’t hear the “children” in children’s church if they are empowered and attended. Prelude to preaching, there was no part of their liturgy that reminded me of children’s church. There was even communion. They led evening service as well, and in this liturgy they sat down to lead a very traditional children’s church element: prayer requests.
Pastor Matilda as she was called, my babygirl 2nd grader, asked everyone what they wanted to pray about. We each shared. Then she blessed everyone, whew i was CRYING. But then Matilda cried too, not tears of sweetness at the impact of her blessing, but sadness, like she’d been compelled during her prayer to confess something.
She said “I don’t know how to pray this part, I don’t have any real friends. I help people in my class but I play by myself. Nobody talks to me, they say I’m bossy but I’m really shy, and I just want to say Lord please fix me.” more ramblings and tears happened and.. my soul deflated. I didn’t know what to say. I wanted to comfort her but I didn’t want to lie to her. All I had was the prayer I had already planned to pray this morning.
God sees you. The Lord bottles up every tear.
So, family, I still don’t have much of anything to offer Pastor Matti-cakes. I can tell you that she will be sending marco-polo videos and letters and texts to all the people in our life whenever she wants to connect. And I can tell you that she taught me what Hagar has been teaching all of us for ages: that tears are prayers. I can tell you that we are surrounded by people sitting afar off crying sentences that they can’t manage to turn into prayers. We are them.
Let’s join their prayers.
Lord we come to You this morning, drunk on sorrow— having been called everything but a child of God— and we are done, Lord - Like our mother Hagar, our sisters, nieces and baby girls - we are worn out of traveling through the desert, up the rough side of the mountain. O Mary's Baby, will You be The God of Hagar’s naming: “You are the God who sees, for I have seen the One who sees me.” Will you lean out over the battlements of glory, and listen to the weeping ramblings of your desperate children?
We have heard all the news of separation, depression, death and suffering. We have watched our loved ones die. We’ve missed moments of sweetness and lost touch with friends who are fighting to survive the plague of this age. And we have uttered the words of “Our Lady of Egypt”, Hagar, who said “I cannot bear to watch him die”. We are saying the same in so many ways, over and over again. We cannot bear to watch children weep, to hear of more deaths behind bars, to watch our loved ones leave for work in hospitals, grocery stores, pharmacies, domestic health service, daycare, transportation and delivery service.
We are terrified that they will not be healthy for much longer. We are terrified for all of our beloved elders. Listen Lord, we hate it here.
We need the God who sees to also be the God who hears. And we believe that You are. We know that Your word shows it. Will you be merciful to us? For what time we are afraid, we trust you. We lift these pains and sorrows to you now. Spirit of Sight and Power, hover over the wilderness of crying and chaos. Look down and lift us up, Attend O God, attend! To these - and many more - things unseen:
The impact of isolation and despair on mental health, risk of abuse for people no longer able to escape to work, school or public spaces. Lord we weep with Your children this morning, we cannot bear to watch them suffer in this desert. Oh how we hate it here.
Increased debt and financial struggles, employment instability, fear and loss associated with workers protections and lack thereof. God of Mercy, Your children are so afraid of losing jobs that they are risking their lives. We hate it here.
Corrupt practices of people in power. O King of Kings, where shall we begin? Those who play gatekeeper for our access to relief continue to dehumanize people by deifying corporate wealth. And even if we had the access, we literally can’t go anywhere. So we hate it here.
Immigration issues, ICE raids, close quarters in detention facilities and jails around the world. Listen Lord, we are in hiding and in chains. We are the persecuted, imprisoned for our beliefs and our kingdom work. We are the refugee, punished for wanting to live and see our families thrive. We are the jailed and incarcerated, presumed disposable and erased from our communities. We have run out of water. Our loved ones sit far from us while we go silent and they pray to You like Hagar did, “I cannot bear to see the child die.” so we hate it here.
O Lord, we are weeping to you this morning. We have laid Your beloved children down under the bushes’ shade in the desert of Beersheba. We are friendless children, media maxed and connection starved. And we are showing up to plead with You, this morning, Ishmael’s Cousin, for the cast out, the abused, the fearful, for the ones who are traumatized and are still going through. Where is the Angel of the Lord? Where are You?
Creator, Redeemer, Comforter and Keeper, speak a word and spare us. Open the eyes of these Your daughters in the desert. Show us the well that is… just… over there. We cannot see it, Lord, but we would lift our babies up and take them there. Take us to the desert spring. Carry us this morning, like empty pitchers to a flowing fountain. See our misery and answer, O God. We know that You are listening.
Song of Response - Hear My Cry, Marvia Providence. decided on a dance jam, I highly recommend a praise break, my people!!
Images: Lisa Facica, African Madonna // Saar, Secretary to the Spirits
Scriptures: Today’s prayers are taken from from Genesis 16, Genesis 21, Psalm 56, Ecclesiastes 2