I See You
Have you ever thought about what the difference is between being looked at and being seen?
I feel even though we may not know how to put it into words we can tell when someone is looking at us compared to when someone sees us.
They see more than just what meets the eye or is superficial. They see deeper...they see the truth...they see you.
Many times we don't allow ourselves to become seen. It may be out of fear, out of believing lies or out of hurt. It's scary because there is no way to hide anything in that moment.
The first time I allowed myself to be seen was in grade 10 at my first YTOL Canada March break retreat. I was at a point where I started living a double life. I would give God my Sundays but the rest of the week I wanted him out of my life. I got poked at in school for my reputation as "the good Catholic girl" and I felt as if God was just ruining my reputation of finding friends and being noticed and liked.
Needless to say, this retreat gave me a huge awakening. One evening we had a really beautiful adoration night. There was praise and worship music and everyone was getting super emotional...but I didn't understand why.
Later on the Priest took the Blessed Sacrament and walked up to each one of us so that we could have our one-on-one moment with Christ. When he came in front of me...I couldn't look up. For the life of me I did not have the strength too.
Because right then I realized who was really standing in front of me and how I had been living my life by subconsciously blaming him for being a buzzkill in my life, and pushing him aside.
In that moment I heard a gentle voice in my heart. "Sandra, I see you. Will you look up and see me too?" I lifted my head up and for the first time in my life I knew what it felt like to be seen. I sobbed out of sorrow, asking for forgiveness, but also in peace and warmth of feeling loved even still.
Have you ever allowed yourself to be seen by God? What is stopping you from letting him see you?
You deserve to be seen...not just looked at.
Walking Together, Sandra