Eyes Open

Scripture: Genesis 21:14-19 (Year A Lectionary)

Artwork Focus: Hagar (1875) by Edmonia Lewis (Smithsonian American Art Museum)

Reflection
As we move into the heat of mid-June, it's easy to occasionally feel a bit spiritually parched. Between the steady drumbeat of news headlines, the ongoing pinch of everyday expenses, and the quiet, private struggles we each carry, our personal resources can feel stretched incredibly thin.

This Sunday’s Revised Common Lectionary reading brings us face-to-face with a story about hitting empty. Hagar, cast out by Abraham and Sarah, is sent into the wilderness of Beersheba with nothing but some bread and a single skin of water. When the water inevitably runs out, her despair takes over. Unable to bear watching her son suffer, she places him under a bush and walks away, weeping.

How often do we hit that same wall? We carry the heavy weight of expectations from our families, our workplaces, and our community. When our own "water skin" runs dry, it's so easy for negative self-talk to creep in. We convince ourselves that we’ve failed the people who rely on us the most. Like Hagar, we sometimes just want to turn away from the situations we feel powerless to solve.

The 19th-century African American and Native American sculptor Edmonia Lewis beautifully captured this moment of profound vulnerability. In her marble statue Hagar, Lewis doesn't depict the patriarchs or the angels; she focuses entirely on Hagar’s resilient dignity. Lewis, who knew deeply what it meant to be marginalized and pushed to the edges of society, portrays Hagar with her hands clasped and her eyes looking up and outward, capturing the exact moment where desperation begins to make way for hope.

Notice how God responds in the scripture. God doesn’t scold Hagar for her despair or her feelings of failure. Instead, God hears the cries of the child, offers words of comfort, "Do not be afraid", and then opens Hagar’s eyes. Suddenly, she sees a well of water. The well was likely there all along, but her exhaustion and fear had blinded her to it.

In our communities, God often works in this exact same way. Grace doesn't always mean instantly teleporting us out of the wilderness. Sometimes, grace is simply God opening our eyes to the provision that is already right in front of us, a neighbor reaching out, a community resource, the warmth of a church family, or a renewed sense of the Holy Spirit's sustaining presence.

When you feel like your resources are running dry this week, remember that you are seen, you are heard, and God is already providing the water.

Prayer
God of the wilderness, when our resources run low and our spirits are dry, keep us from despair. Quiet the voices that tell us we have failed, and open our eyes to the wells of living water you have placed in our lives. Help us to share that water with our neighbors in need. In Christ's name, we pray. Amen.