The Real Me

I think I have mentioned elsewhere that I was shy when I was young; not the "aw shucks" kind of shy; the "oh-please-let-me-fade-into-this-wall" kind of shy.  It was in the 7th grade that I decided to do something about this problem.  I undertook this endeavor as a subset of a larger enterprise.  I had finally come to the conclusion that I was going to have to take the reins of my life because, apparently, no one else was going to.  Everyone in my life seemed pretty busy, too busy to provide any guidance to me.  And so, I began to make decisions for myself.

One set of those decisions were related to my realization that, somehow, I had to overcome my debilitating shyness.  It was my observation that most people seemed to be able to hold conversations, be comfortable in groups, and have friends.  Wanting that for myself, I started making changes.  They were painful.  Over the next few years I joined student organizations so I would be forced into social situations, took a Speech class (that was awful), auditioned for and acted in school plays (more nerve-wracking than the Speech class, but of blessedly shorter duration). I even signed up to run for Student Council Representative.  I believe I may hold the record for most consecutive unsuccessful runs for SC Rep (grades 7, 8, 9, 10, and 11).

One thing I did that was not a part of this campaign to overcome my shyness was join the student newspaper.  I decided I wanted to write; so I took a journalism course and helped lay out the paper.  Becoming a writer was a long-term goal, and I didn't allow myself to apply any pressure toward it's accomplishment.  However, it was while working on the student newspaper that my name became known to my peers.  And I discovered something new about me: I really LIKED being known.  Unexpected, unplanned; I began in earnest my slow climb out of my shyness because I liked that people knew the me that was a writer for the school paper.  I had a long way to go, but it was a start.

Being known.  It's important.  My young self was almost overcome by that first whiff of being known.  Very heady stuff. 

One of the many interesting things one learns by reading the Bible is that there are several names for God, different ways that He is known; names such as Yahweh or Jehovah ("God who preserves what he creates") and El Shaddai ("God Almighty").  The writers of the books record the names revealed to His people and they record the names His people ascribed to Him.  This latter group are usually combination names, such as Jehovah Jireh ("My God will provide").  

My all time favorite, though, was not ascribed to God by one of the writers; in fact, it was not even given Him by someone of power, stature, or position.  The name appears only once, in Genesis Chapter 16, and it is spoken by an Egyptian slave.  I immediately thought of his story when I read the Genesis 12:1-4 passage in this week's Lectionary readings.

There is so much that is interesting about this story.  Abram's wife, Sarai, is old; well past the fertile years.  There is no earthly basis for her to believe she will be able to become pregnant or, even if so, that she could successfully carry the child to term.  Having lost faith in God's promise that she would become a mother in her own right, she "gives" her slave, Hagar, to Abram as a second wife.  She reasons "The Lord has not given me any children.  Sleep with my slave, and if she has a child, it will be mine."  For his part, we're not sure what Abram was thinking.  Maybe he really believed THIS arrangement was how God was going to make him "a great nation".  Whatever his thoughts, in short order Hagar becomes pregnant and, also in short order, proud (that she is carrying THE HEIR) and hateful to Sarai.  

I doubt anyone will be shocked to learn that Sarai retaliated; nor that Hagar soon ran away.  And it is while she is on the run that she has an encounter with God.  Hagar is not what you would call a sympathetic character.  True, her situation stems from another person's lack of faith, and from the acts of a person who views Hagar as having value in only whatever ways Hagar proves useful.  It's not a story through which runs the milk of human kindness.  Frankly, I was pretty surprised when God took an interest in her.  Yet, He did.  And in a profound way.  As a result of this encounter, Hagar thinks, “Have I really seen God and lived to tell about it?”  So from then on she called him, “The God Who Sees Me.”

She NAMES God!

I used to be in awe of this passage for that reason alone.  But as time went on, and I continued to return to this story, I became more enamored of the question: WHY did Hagar name Him "The God Who Sees Me"?  For the longest time, I held the belief that Hagar, being a slave, saw herself as someone who was NOT seen by others; that is, not valued enough by others to REALLY see the real Hagar.  Thankfully, with the passage of years, God has rescued me from that errancy.

Now I know the truth: we ALL have a need to be known.  And I, for one, am very happy to know that God "sees me"; to have confidence that He sees my good intentions along with my failed executions, sees my belief while helping my unbelief, sees my selfish desires as well as my attempts to store up the right kinds of treasures.  The real me.  The person I am ... and the person I aspire to become.

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READINGS FOR THE COMING WEEK
Second Sunday in Lent (March 20, 2011)
Genesis 12:1-4a
Psalm 121
Romans 4:1-5, 13-17
John 3:1-17 or Matthew 17:1-9

If you're in Waco this Friday morning, join us at 8:00 at Cafe Cappuccino (downtown on 6th, near the Courthouse) for a tasty breakfast and more of the above.

Enjoy!
Steve