I Think We All Just Want to Be Seen

I've been thinking a lot about what it means to truly know another person.

Not know facts about them.

Not know their favorite color or what they like to eat or what music they listen to.

I mean really know them.

Their fears.

Their contradictions.

The reasons behind the things they don't even know how to explain.

The hidden places they don't show anyone because they're afraid those places won't be loved.

I think that's what every human being is secretly looking for.

Not applause.

Not admiration.

Not even romance.

To be seen.

Maybe that's why betrayal hurts so deeply.

It's not only that someone lied.

It's that you realize the person who promised to know you... never really did.

Or perhaps they stopped trying.

I don't know which is sadder.

There have been moments over the past year when I've wondered if anyone has ever really known me.

Not the version of me that smiles.

Not the version that records podcasts or writes essays or studies theology.

Just...

me.

The woman who overthinks.

The woman who sometimes gets scared.

The woman who loves too deeply.

The woman who asks God the same question ten different ways because she's hoping one of them will finally make sense.

Sometimes I wonder if she has ever truly been seen.

Then I remember something beautiful.

God has never misunderstood me.

Not once.

He has never mistaken my tears for weakness.

He has never confused my hope with foolishness.

He has never rolled His eyes at my questions.

He has never grown tired of listening.

That thought brings me so much peace.

Because people will always see us partially.

How could they not?

They're human.

Even the people who love us most will sometimes misunderstand us.

Sometimes they'll project their own fears onto us.

Sometimes they'll hear words we never actually said.

Sometimes they'll love us sincerely and still fail to know us completely.

Only God knows the whole story.

Every chapter.

Every motive.

Every wound.

Every hidden act of love that no one else noticed.

Maybe that's why resting in Him feels so different from resting anywhere else.

There is nothing I have to prove.

Nothing I have to perform.

Nothing I have to explain before He understands.

He already does.

I've realized that one of the greatest gifts I can offer another person is my attention.

Not my advice.

Not my opinions.

My attention.

To listen long enough that they feel safe enough to become themselves.

To stay curious instead of becoming defensive.

To ask one more question before assuming I already know.

Maybe that's one of the purest forms of love.

Not fixing.

Seeing.

And maybe that's what I want to become.

Not simply a woman who is deeply understood.

But a woman who helps other people feel deeply understood too.

Because I have a feeling...

that's what God has been doing for me all along.

Quietly.

Patiently.

Faithfully.

Seeing me.

Long before I ever learned how to see myself.

💜