Instead of Hidden, Seen

During the month of June, I will be writing a series of devotionals based on my upcoming book, Covered Glory: The Face of Honor and Shame in the Muslim World, published by Harvest House Publishers August 2019.

You have searched me, Lord, and you know me (Psalm 139:1).

“I know God sees me. Can you help me?” 

Jameelah sat before me, her brilliant blue scarf pulled aside to reveal a face the image of a broken mirror, fragmented and distorted by a ragged purple ridge. Full lips and once-perfect cheekbones bore the scars of cruelty and jealous hatred. 

Her beauty and purity had been social insurance for her family in a culture where daughters brought handsome reward and security. But she had refused the much older man her father arranged for her, and in response, the man attacked her one day with a machete, destroying her beauty and nearly taking her life.

Jameelah had never read the Bible story of Hagar, the woman who named God The God Who Sees Me. Hagar was this woman’s ancestral matriarch, the mother of the sons of Ishmael who would one day call themselves Muslims, or “Ones Submitted (to God)”.

Regardless, she knew what Hagar knew: God sees me, a woman.

God saw Jameelah, but did He care about what He saw? That was the unspoken question, the one she dared not ask. 

Instead, she asked me for help, a safer option for one who did not know her value to God. I had come to help women such as her, volunteering at a ten-day clinic repairing facial deformities. I wore a lab coat with my name embroidered on it and had an otoscope in my pocket. I clearly was ready to help somehow.

She looked at me through velvety chocolate eyes framed with thick lashes, waiting for my answer.

When we are faced with the most extreme examples of human cruelty and injustice, we all respond. Sometimes we are enraged. We want to do something. Some of us cower and hide, immobilized by the evil we seem to have no power to stop. Others cry out for justice. Some commit their lives to rescue the oppressed. But no one is neutral. To ignore the outrage or to charge at it with full force are both responses. We cannot live in this world of pain and suffering and remain neutral.

But what do we do when the cruelty is so senseless, so immense, that we can see no way to stop it? What do we say to the Jameelahs of the world?

There is a principle throughout the Bible I like to call the Principle of Instead. I turn to it for hope in the face of injustice, for courage in the face of cruelty, for God’s wisdom when I don’t know what to do. Our God is the God of Instead, who gives beauty instead of ashes, honor instead of shame, and, for women like Jameelah and her ancestor Hagar, hope instead of despair.

The Principle of Instead is the simple, fundamental truth that God takes suffering and transforms it into something beautiful. This is a promise offered to all who will trust Him. #coveredglory #instead #suffering Share on X

Describing the coming Messiah Jesus, Isaiah illustrated the Principle of Instead:

He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim freedom for the captives and release from darkness for the prisoners, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor and the day of vengeance of our God, to comfort all who mourn, and provide for those who grieved in Zion—to bestow on them a crown of beauty instead of ashes, the oil of gladness instead of mourning, and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair (Isaiah 61:1-3).

Before I can answer women like Jameelah, I have to settle the matter for myself. Have I trusted the God of Instead with my suffering? I must grapple with my own distorted image and my own need for the God Who Sees Me. How can we declare honor and value to others if we have not fully believed and accepted it in our own lives?

We are not hidden from God. He sees us and knows us. This knowledge is marvelous, yielding treasures out of darkness for those who will trust Him.

Taking Jameelah’s hands in my own, I told her Hagar’s story. In a place of despair, God met Hagar and gave her hope instead. Hagar declared with conviction, “You are the God who sees me,” for she said, “I have now seen the One who sees me” Genesis 16:13. 

Jameelah knew God saw her, but unlike Hagar, she had not yet seen Him. She did not know yet how much He loved her, that He had given His life to save her.

On that bright morning, with throngs of people clamoring outside my door waiting their turn, I took pause to introduce her to the Messiah who not only saw her but also knew her. I invited her to trust the God of Instead, who offered her honor instead of shame.

Lord, I want to see you. Help me come out of hiding and bring my suffering to you that you might transform it into beauty. Use me to help the hurting know you love them. Amen.

To read more about Jameelah’s story, see Chapter 11 in Covered Glory: The Face of Honor and Shame in the Muslim World, available for pre-order here.