El-roi: The God Who Sees Me
by Dr. Craig Goodwin-Ortiz de León
Isaiah 43:1–7 is one of my favorite passages in all of scripture. Every time I read it, I feel God’s love wash over me like gentle rain. The words speak directly to the deepest parts of my heart: “Do not fear, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name, you are mine.” These are not distant promises—they are personal and close. They remind me that God knows me, sees me, and loves me just as I am.
In Genesis 16, the enslaved and pregnant Hagar flees into the wilderness and meets God in her distress. She gives God a name: El-roi, “the God who sees me.” That name has echoed in my soul for years. When I feel unseen by others—dismissed, misunderstood, or erased—I hold onto this truth: I am seen by the God who created me. I am not invisible to El-roi.
There are moments when the world attacks or shames me, using religion as a weapon or culture as a judge. In those moments, I turn to the God who sees me and claims me. Isaiah reminds me that I am not defined by what others say—I am defined by God’s voice calling me beloved. “You are precious in my sight, and honored, and I love you.” When I am feeling attacked and shamed by the world, I remember that my God sees me.
Jesus sees me too. In the Gospel of John, he sees Nathanael under the fig tree before Nathanael even approaches him. Nathanael is stunned, asking, “How do you know me?” Jesus replies, “I saw you.” That moment moves Nathanael to faith, and it moves me too. Jesus, the Word made flesh, sees into the depths of our hearts—and still calls us to come and follow. His gaze is not one of judgment, but of deep knowing and invitation.
El-roi sees every part of me: my joy and grief, my courage and fear, my failures and hope. I do not have to perform or hide to be loved. God sees me fully—and still calls me by name. That is the miracle. That is the grace I live in every day.
What name for God speaks to your experience right now? When have you felt most seen by Jesus? I’d love to hear your story. Let’s hold space together for the sacred truth that we are known, loved, and never forgotten.
Under the Fig Tree 