God, can you see me now?

I have to laugh at so many of the memories of my childhood and the innocence with which they were created. I remember always being in Sunday school, learning its lessons, and taking them quite literally. When given the coloring sheet of the crossing of the Red Sea, I colored the water with the brightest red crayon I could find. And when I saw the picture of Adam and Eve hiding from God, my imagination ran in the direction of child’s play.
I recall the teacher saying there was nowhere one could hide from God – that He knew everything and was everywhere. So when I got home, I found my brother’s flashlight and slipped into the bedroom closet. I climbed through the hanging clothes, over stacked boxes, and into the far back corner of the small room. Then I pulled a piece of clothing over me, switched off the flashlight, and whispered into the darkness, “God, can You see me now?”
I am not sure how long I stayed there, switching the light off and on. It was the simple innocence of a 6-year-old child, and I would like to believe the Heavenly Father smiled. Sixty years later, I smile too at the comforting truth that I was seen then, and I have always been seen by Him.
Life has taught me that closets do not always look the same.
Some closets we create for ourselves, and others are created for us. Adam and Eve stepped into one of their own making when they ate from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. In that moment, they saw their brokenness. Shame sent them searching for cover, and they hid among the trees of the garden, believing they could disappear from the presence of the One who made them. Yet love still came walking in the garden. God called them from their hiding place and clothed them with care. From the beginning, Scripture reminds us that even when shame sends us into hiding, the heart of God still seeks, still calls, and still covers (Genesis 3).
Hagar knew another kind of closet – the kind created by the choices of others. Sent away into the wilderness, she found herself alone, rejected, and unsure of what would become of her and her child. Yet even there, beneath the weight of sorrow and the uncertainty, God saw her. In that lonely place, she came to know Him as El Roi – “The God Who Sees” – becoming the first person in Scripture recorded as giving God a name. Her story reminds us that when life shuts doors we did not close ourselves, we are never beyond the reach of His care (Genesis 16; 21).
Between the trees of Eden and the wilderness of Hagar lies the story of us all. Some hide because of shame. Some wander because of wounds they did not choose. Some sit quietly behind doors closed by grief, fear, regret, or loss. Some are still that child hidden in the closet, wondering if they are seen at all. Yet the same God who sought them still seeks us now. We have always been seen.
His presence still reaches. His mercy still covers. His love still calls us gently from the shadows into hope, healing, and light. And perhaps that is one of life’s sweetest comforts: to know that wherever we have been, wherever we are, and wherever we must yet go—we will never be beyond the sight of God.
Where can I go from Your Spirit? Where can I flee from Your presence? — Psalm 139:7

Cheryl Mixon-Cruce is Pastor of Ochlockonee Bay United Methodist Church and Sopchoppy United Methodist Church.