Dear Diary
August 1, 2025
Not everyone gets centre stage. Some stories happen in the background. Some prayers are whispered in the wilderness. Some hearts carry weight without applause, without recognition. But that doesn’t mean God isn’t watching.
Let me tell you about a maid. A servant. A foreigner. Given. Used. Blamed. Then—sent away. She was never meant to be the main character. But God had other plans. He met her face to face—twice.
Her name was Hagar.
Her story began with someone else’s problem: Sarah couldn’t conceive, so she gave Hagar to Abraham to bear a child. Hagar got pregnant—and suddenly, she wasn’t just the servant. She had done what Sarah could not. It changed her. She’s human—we all feel that puffed-up pride when we do what others couldn’t. But in her case, it cost her everything. Tension rose. Sarah grew bitter. Abraham turned passive. And Hagar? She ran. Pregnant and alone, she fled into the wilderness. No plan. No backup. No one calling her name.
But God showed up. Not to Sarah, the wife of the promise. Not to Abraham, the father of nations. To the slave girl on the run. And He didn’t just comfort her—He blessed her. “You will have a son,” He said, “and I will increase your descendants so much they will be too numerous to count.” It was the same kind of blessing Abraham received. And then, something remarkable happened: Hagar gave God a name. “You are the God who sees me.” The first person in the Bible to name God—not a king, not a prophet, but a woman the world had tried to forget.
Years passed. Isaac was born. Sarah finally had her miracle. And once again, Hagar and her son became a problem. So they were sent away. No more tent. No more covering. No more Abraham. She wandered the desert. The water ran out. Her son cried. She placed him under a bush and walked away—because she couldn’t bear to watch him die.
And once more, in the silence, God came. “Do not be afraid,” said the angel. “God has heard the boy crying.” Then God opened her eyes—and she saw a well of water. He didn’t create something new. He revealed what had been there all along.
So what’s the message? Some of us don’t feel chosen. We feel passed over. Stuck in someone else’s story. Carrying things quietly. Surviving things silently. And sometimes, we wonder: Does anyone see me?
Hagar’s story answers yes. God sees. He sees you running. He sees you breaking. He sees you holding on for someone else’s sake. And He meets you where no one else is looking.
Today is August 1st. A brand-new month. A fresh page. The kind of day that invites quiet reflection—before the rush begins again. Maybe this is your moment, too. Not to shout. Not to strive. But to whisper like Hagar did: “You are the God who sees me.”
And maybe—just maybe—He’ll open your eyes to a well of water that’s been beside you all along.
To the overlooked soul: You are not invisible. You are not forgotten. You are seen. You are known. And your story isn’t over.
Because being seen is sometimes the first miracle.
And maybe, just maybe—this new month is your beginning, too.
Yours—in still being seen.
