WFN has a goal of doubling victim identification. In this article we explore the theological foundation of victim identification and discover how much this aligns with the God who sees.
Human trafficking and the God who sees: the church and victim identification
by Sarah Scott Webb and Jennifer Roemhildt Tunehag
Introduction
Human trafficking is a pervasive crime, affecting every country and community across the globe. Its victims are often hidden; vulnerable men, women and children whose exploitation is facilitated by poverty, displacement, inequality and social isolation. The magnitude and complexity of trafficking make it one of the most urgent injustices confronting our world today.
The International Labor Organization conservatively estimates more than 27 million people have been trafficked into situations of forced labor and sexual exploitation worldwide.[1] While often addressed as a humanitarian or criminal justice issue, for the Church trafficking is more than a violation of rights; it is a direct assault on the image of God in every person, stripping them of the identity and dignity God created them to have.
Identity matters. It is a core reflection of our theology and calling. But within the global crisis of trafficking the stark reality remains: of the estimated 27 million men, women and children trafficked into exploitation and slavery, less than 1% are ever identified.[2] Without identification, victims remain unprotected, unreached, and without justice. Identification is the doorway to freedom – without it survivors cannot access safety, care or restoration, and traffickers continue to operate with impunity. Victim identification is foundational to all anti-trafficking efforts; without it prevention, prosecution, and policy fall short.
For the World Freedom Network, this is not just an alarming statistic – it is a summons to embody the compassion and justice of Christ. We see victim identification as crucial to
our calling as followers of Jesus. Each hidden individual is an image-bearer worthy of recognition and restorative action, compelling the Church to respond in ways that reflect the character of God and His redemptive mission. We believe that when the church participates in identifying victims we mirror God’s gaze: affirming worth, opening pathways to restoration, and declaring that no one is invisible to Him.
This article demonstrates that identifying, protecting, and restoring victims is rooted in the character of God and the calling of the Church. From Genesis onward, Scripture shows a God who identifies, who sees, who enacts justice, and who saves. His seeing gives worth; His justice restores dignity; His saving work in Christ enters suffering to redeem and set free. And in this redemptive vision, He is inviting His Church to learn the gaze of El Roi – identifying the hidden, affirming their worth, and joining in His work of justice and mercy.
The seeing God
In Scripture, God’s seeing is always deeply connected to recognition, affirmation, and action. When the Bible speaks of seeing it means recognizing, identifying and valuing someone as fully human. This matters deeply when we think about the church’s role in responding to human trafficking. Identifying victims is not simply a matter of humanitarian concern or state responsibility; it is a profoundly theological act, rooted in the very nature of God as the One who sees.
From the beginning of Scripture, God is revealed as the One who sees. In Genesis 1, the repeated refrain “God saw that it was good” shows that His act of seeing is not just a passive observation but a declaration that gives creation its worth. God’s seeing is the foundation on which creation’s goodness and value rest. To be seen by God is to be recognized, valued, and dignified as His creation. Genesis 1 affirms that creation is not good merely because it exists; it is good because God sees it and affirms its goodness.
This truth comes to life in the stories of women who felt invisible yet were seen by God. Hagar, the Egyptian slave cast into the wilderness, encounters the God who sees her alone, pregnant and desperate, and names Him El Roi – “the God who sees me” (Gen 16:13). Invisible to others, Hagar is not overlooked by God. He acknowledges her suffering, affirms her dignity, and promises her a future. God’s seeing her was more than observation; it was identification. For Hagar, to be seen was to be both known and valued.
Later in Genesis, Leah – overshadowed by her sister Rachel and unloved by Jacob – finds comfort in this same El Roi. Scripture says, “…the Lord saw that Leah was not loved…” (Gen 29:31). Ignored by those closest to her, she was noticed by God. He saw her, affirmed her worth, and chose her to carry forward the covenant line through Judah, from whom Jesus would come. In 1 Samuel, Hannah’s anguish at being childless is overlooked – even mistaken for drunkenness by the priest Eli. Yet God saw her pain and answered her prayer with the gift of Samuel (1 Sam 1). God’s seeing identified her as a woman of faith whose cry would shape the history of Israel.
In each of these stories, God’s seeing is not distant observation but intimate recognition and identification. Scripture shows us that to be seen by God is to be acknowledged, dignified, and given hope.
The theme of God seeing, identifying and acting continues with Israel in Egypt. In Exodus 3, God says: “I have indeed seen the misery of my people … I have heard them crying out … I am concerned about their suffering. So I have come down to rescue them” (Ex 3:7-8). Here, God does not merely notice their oppression; He identifies them as His people and affirms their worth by stepping into their suffering. His seeing is inseparable from action: to be seen by God is to be acknowledged, chosen, and delivered. His sight moves toward freedom and transformation, setting in motion the great act of redemption that shapes Israel’s identity and mission.
In the New Testament this divine way of seeing is embodied in Jesus. He notices those others ignore, and His seeing always carries identification. When He sees Zacchaeus up in the tree, He not only notices him but calls him publicly a “son of Abraham,” restoring him to covenant dignity (Luke 19:9). When He sees the bent-over woman, He identifies her as a “daughter of Abraham,” challenging those who only saw her disability (Luke 13:16). When the bleeding woman touches His garment, He insists on identifying her as “daughter,” affirming her place in God’s family after years of social exclusion (Mat 9:22). In each case, Jesus’ seeing restores worth, re-establishes identity, and brings people back into community.
Learning the gaze of El Roi
This biblical witness shapes how we need to think about the identification of victims of human trafficking today. Victims of trafficking are often hidden in plain sight; unseen, unnamed, misidentified, or deliberately ignored. To see them is to echo the God who saw Hagar, Leah, Hannah and the marginalized in Jesus’ ministry. To identify them is to
declare with our words and actions that they are not forgotten, not disposable, not defined by exploitation – but are image-bearers of God.
For the church today, reflecting the God who sees means cultivating a way of looking that refuses to turn away. In practice, this might mean training pastors, ministry leaders, and congregations to notice the signs of exploitation in their communities. It may mean listening carefully to the quiet voices – the ones who, like Hannah, pour out their grief without words. It may mean affirming the worth of those society dismisses, as Jesus did when He identified the overlooked and marginalised as sons and daughters of Abraham.
It also calls for a presence in places where victims are often invisible: in migrant communities, among those struggling with poverty or addiction, in spaces where shame or fear keeps people hidden. To “see” in this sense is not only visual but relational – it means being close enough, patient enough, and compassionate enough to notice and respond. Prayer too becomes a discipline of seeing, asking God to open our eyes to those who are overlooked, just as He opened His eyes to Hagar in the desert and Israel in Egypt.
Victim identification is the church’s calling, an outworking of God’s own heart. To see as God sees is to recognize the dignity of every person, to name them as image-bearers, and to participate in their journey toward freedom and restoration. In this way, the church’s mission is not only to preach good news but to embody it – to live as the people of El Roi, the God who sees, and to help the unseen be seen.
The just God
If God’s seeing identifies, then His justice restores. In Scripture, justice is not an abstract principle or merely a system of punishment – it is the heartbeat of God Himself. He is known as Elohei Mishpat, the God of justice.[3] To know God is to know His justice, and to participate in His mission is to embody that justice in the world.
The Hebrew Scriptures speak of justice through two words: mishpat and tzedek.[4] Tzedek is righteousness; living in right relationship with God and with others. It also refers to people’s rights, what they are due. Mishpat is judgement; setting wrongs right, treating people equitably, punishing wrong doers and caring for the victims of unjust treatment.
Together they paint a picture of justice that is not only about punishing wrong but about restoring community. In Scripture to ‘see’ is never just a passing glance but an act of recognition that confers value, echoing the God who is El Roi, the One who sees. Victim identification then, is not a snapshot in time but a participation in God’s gaze; calling us into ongoing relationship, restoration, and the building of communities where His justice and mercy are made visible.
Here is where victim identification becomes central. Justice, whether retributive or restorative, cannot begin unless victims are first seen and named. Courts cannot hold traffickers accountable if survivors remain invisible. Communities cannot restore the broken if the broken are never recognized. In biblical terms, mishpat begins with recognition. The prophets consistently rebuked God’s people for ignoring the poor and exploited: not because they failed to pass laws, but because they failed to see and acknowledge the suffering in their midst (Am 5:11, Jer 22:17). To refuse to see is to withhold justice; to see and identify is the first act of justice.
Retributive justice, which holds traffickers accountable, depends on this identification. When survivors are recognized as victims rather than criminals – as often happens with trafficked women, children, or migrants – they receive the dignity of truth-telling. Their suffering is named for what it is: injustice. For many survivors, this acknowledgment is itself profoundly healing. It tells them: what happened to you was wrong; it was not your fault; you are not invisible anymore.
But justice in Scripture does not stop there; it also seeks restoration. Biblical justice asks not only, “How do we punish the wrongdoer?” but also, “How do we repair the harm?” In trafficking, restorative justice means more than rescue or prosecution of perpetrators. It is about healing trauma, rebuilding trust, restoring agency, and reintegrating survivors into community. This work cannot begin until someone is identified. How can we restore the one we have not seen? Identification becomes the doorway through which restorative justice can enter. This is why the act of seeing and identifying victims is not an optional extra, but the very threshold of God’s justice. Without it, retribution becomes hollow and restoration remains an unfulfilled ideal. With it, both dimensions of justice, retributive and restorative, become possible.
Justice begins with identification, and Jesus models this in His ministry. When He called Levi from his tax booth, He not only saw beyond a life of exploitation but restored him as a disciple and witness to the Kingdom (Luke 5:27–29). When He saw the woman caught in adultery and said to her “Neither do I condemn you,” He not only silenced her accusers but restored her dignity and offered her a new beginning (John 8:11). When He called the
bleeding woman “daughter,” He not only healed her body but restored her place in society(Mat 9:22). In each case, justice flowed from seeing, identifying, and affirming. In the same way, our pursuit of justice begins when we see others as Jesus sees them; bearing His image, worthy of dignity, and invited into restored community.
Learning the gaze of El Roi
Many survivors of trafficking describe the experience of invisibility as one of the deepest wounds; being treated as objects, numbers, or tools rather than people. When the church takes identification seriously, it mirrors Jesus’ ministry by saying: We see you. We name you rightly. You are not what was done to you; you are a beloved image-bearer of God. That is justice in action.
For the church, this means our commitment to justice begins in the act of seeing and identifying. It begins in local congregations noticing when something is wrong in a family, when a migrant worker is being exploited, when a child shows signs of abuse. Identification can be the bridge between God’s justice and the healing of survivors.
To serve Elohei Mishpat is to join Him in this work: to see, to name, to defend, to restore. Justice that does not identify victims remains abstract. But when the church learns to see as God sees and to identify as Jesus identified, then both retributive and restorative justice can take root. Victim identification is not incidental to the mission of God; it is the first act of mishpat, the starting point of restoration, and a vital witness to the God who is both El Roi and Elohei Mishpat.
The saving God
God’s mission in the world is rooted in His seeing from the very beginning: He is attentive, not indifferent, to the world He has made. Yet the story of Hagar does more than reveal God’s character in the past; it lays a foundation for His people today, showing that to see and to act on behalf of the vulnerable is central to God’s mission.
As we reflect again on Hagar’s story from Genesis 16, we see her as a slave, a foreigner, and a woman – three categories of deep vulnerability in the ancient world. Abram and Sarai treat her according to those categories, reducing her identity to function and utility – God does not. In the desert He calls her by name, dignifying her when others have diminished her. God’s seeing looks past the categories that label her unworthy of care and justice,and changes Hagar’s story: from invisible to known, from powerless to named,
from hopeless to promised, and from abandoned to encountered. It does not erase her suffering, but it reframes her identity and her story in the light of God’s presence and promise.
El Roi, the God who saw Hagar in her invisibility is the same God revealed in Jesus Christ, who consistently noticed those the world (and His followers) overlooked – the sick, the poor, the children, the outcast. As we learn to follow Him we must also learn to share His gaze – to recognize, value, and act for those whom others ignore.
In Luke 10, a young lawyer asks Jesus a profound question: “What must I do to inherit eternal life?” (Luke 10:25-37). In response, Christ tells the story of a man beaten and left for dead. Faithful religious people pass by, unwilling to risk reputation or well-being in order to help, until finally a Samaritan man – bound by no obligation to God or to the wounded Jew – stops to rescue him. “Go and do likewise,” Jesus tells him.
This parable brings God’s seeing into action. Just as God saw Hagar in her vulnerability, Jesus calls His followers to notice, name, and respond to those in need. His seeing affirms the dignity and worth of each person. Identifying people who are exploited tells them (and the world) that they are neither statistics nor shadows – they are individuals with names, stories, and futures.
Learning the gaze of El Roi
“Elise was standing in front of a brothel the first time I saw her. I was walking quickly, making my way home through dark Athens streets when I noticed a woman in front of one of the area’s many brothels. She certainly wasn’t the first woman in prostitution I had seen in the neighborhood, but this time something made me pause. You’ll remember when, in the Gospels, Jesus saw the crowd and was moved with compassion to do something for them? Seeing this woman seemed to be such an invitation. I knew that God was asking me to do … something. But I didn’t know what. A few weeks later, I got my chance to respond.
Another late night, and another walk through the narrow, dismal streets behind city hall. Two women and a tall man in transvestite prostitution stood outside the brothel on this night, soliciting customers. As I passed, the man called to ask the time. Almost without stopping, I shouted the hour…but as I continued on, I was impressed by the depth of sadness I sensed in this man, and began to pray.
I think this is quite normal for us as Christians: God shows us a need, and we lift it to Him in response. What was NOT normal, however, was the urgency with which prayer was pouring out of me over this man and his life. It felt as though the Spirit of God had been waiting for someone to intercede on his behalf. I knew that I had to go back, but also…I couldn’t. Could I? I was alone, at night, on dirty and dangerous streets. What did God have in mind?? Thankfully, I had the chance to ask Him. Almost immediately, I heard Him say, “Ask them their names.” Heart pounding, I turned to walk back.
I arrived to find only one person still outside the brothel: the woman I had seen those weeks ago. “I was on my way home, and I think God wanted me to come back and talk to you,” I told her. Elise told me her name, and after a brief conversation I said goodbye, telling her that I would be praying for her. “Would you pray for me now?” she asked, grasping my hands. The sidewalk became – for a moment – a holy place as we reached out together for God.”[5]
Hagar’s place of encounter with El Roi was the desert, but for trafficked persons like Elise desert spaces may look like brothels, detention centers, isolated apartments, or hostile streets. This brings a challenge for the church: If God reveals Himself in desert spaces, His people must be present there too. Identification is not about seeing from afar, but about showing up where suffering is most acute, with the expectation that God is already at work there.
When the Church identifies victims of trafficking, injustice, or violence, it is bearing witness to this reality: God sees. His gaze is always prior to our own seeing, and His mercy precedes and empowers our response. In this way, identification becomes an integral part of discipleship, the Church’s testimony to God’s grace – a grace that is real, active, and embodied.
When God’s gaze is shared through His people, those who have been overlooked or exploited are noticed and valued.Survivors often feel permanently marginalized, excluded from healthy communities and relationships with others. But when the Church sees them as God sees, they can be embraced as image-bearers who can flourish and thrive. Ephesians 2 concludes with a breath-taking vision: that ‘we are no longer
foreigners and strangers, but fellow citizens and members of God’s household, built together into a dwelling where God lives by His Spirit’ (Eph 2:19).
Identification is more than the act of recognizing survivors; it encompasses welcoming them into a community of believers where they can truly belong, flourish, and actively participate. Survivors have the potential to become leaders, advocates, and agents of change; drawing from their experiences to identify other victims, influence policies, and deepen the church’s understanding of justice and compassion. They may find fulfillment as loving spouses, parents, faithful church members, and diligent prayer warriors, discovering the good plans that God has for them and the ways they may become a blessing to others.
Identification brings with it the potential to produce new witnesses. Isaiah 61 promises that not only will the brokenhearted be comforted and the captives freed, but “they will be called (identified as) oaks of righteousness, a planting of the Lord for the display of his splendor” (Is 61:3). In God’s redemptive economy, those once unseen and unnamed are not only restored but commissioned as living testimonies of His justice and mercy. Identification is never the end of the story; it is the beginning of transformation, where the wounded become witnesses and their lives declare the splendor of the Lord.
The God who sees even our failures
Hagar’s story reveals another problem: God’s people themselves can be the agents of harm. Abram and Sarai – bearers of the covenant promise – are the ones who mistreat Hagar (Gen 16:6). Scripture does not hide this failure; God does not gloss over the sins of His chosen ones. Instead, He weaves His redemptive purposes through human brokenness, holding His people accountable even as He remains faithful to His mission.
For the Church today, this is a sobering reminder. Many times the Body of Christ has failed victims of exploitation – by looking away from devastating and complex harm, by failing to speak up against abuse, and even by benefiting from the captivity and exploitation of others. God’s concern for justice extends even into the brokenness created by His own people. Our failures demand reflection and repentance.
Conclusion
Identification work in anti-trafficking is not merely a social good or a humanitarian effort; it is a Gospel act.
Identification reflects God’s own nature as the One who sees. From Hagar in the wilderness to Israel in bondage, Scripture reveals a God who sees the oppression of His people and responds with compassion and justice. In fact, identification makes justice possible. It is impossible to free someone we cannot see, or to restore someone we do not know. Seeing calls the faithful to a worship that “looses the chains of injustice” (Isaiah 58:6); identification witnesses to the God who saves. The Church’s willingness to seek and name those hidden by systems of exploitation opens space for both holistic care and credible proclamation; it makes Kingdom values, and indeed the Kingdom message, tangible.
In Jesus’ beautiful story of the Lost Sheep, the shepherd leaves ninety-nine sheep safe at home to rescue one who is lost. This time, the ninety-nine are lost. Fewer than one percent of victims of trafficking are identified each year, leaving ninety-nine percent – over 26 million men, women and children globally – in situations of violence, degradation, and exploitation. Surely the Shepherd’s concern still compels Him to seek and save the lost – and He is inviting us to join Him in that redemptive work.
When the Church learns to see children of God hidden in systems of exploitation, to call them by name, and to walk with them into hope and restoration, it is bearing witness to the God who sees, the Christ who redeems, and the Spirit who restores. Identification honors the image of God in every person, makes justice possible, and enables Gospel-centered relationship. As such, victim identification is not merely activism – it is mission.
The World Freedom Network is a global alliance of regional networks working to strengthen collaboration, engage the church and advocate for change in the global anti-trafficking sector. The World Freedom Network is an initiative of the World Evangelical Alliance. Contact us via:
[email protected] www.worldfreedomnetwork.org
[1] International Labour Organisation, https://www.ilo.org/topics-and-sectors/forced-labour-modern-slavery-and-trafficking-persons
[2] For more information on this statistic refer to https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/blogs/new-atlanticist/less-than-half-of-1-percent-of-human-trafficking-victims-are-identified-that-needs-to-change/
[3] https://namesforgod.net/god-of-justice
[4] https://israelmyglory.org/article/tsedek-and-mishpat-the-perfect-rightness-of-god/
[5] A personal story from author Jennifer Tunehag