“Do You even see?”
Lately, I find myself asking that question over and over.
But do I truly grasp who I’m speaking to?
The One who holds the universe in place with a whisper, who calls each star by name, who has never missed the quiet funeral of a sparrow—do I really dare to wonder if He sees me?
My heart may waver, convincing me I am unseen, forgotten, overlooked. But feelings are not truth.
He does not forget His own. I am carved into the very palms of His hands.
He knows me—not as one among many, but as if I were the only soul He ever fashioned, the only one He ever loved. His love is not divided, stretched thin over creation. It is whole, complete, unshaken.
This is the truth of His word. And if I believe any part of it, I must believe all of it—because He is not like me. He is not like anyone I’ve ever known.
His word does not bend or break. Without it, the whole world crumbles.
So I can come to Him—worn, weary, questioning—and find Him waiting. I can rest as His nail-pierced hands cover my wounds, as His love quiets my fears.
I am fully known.
I am deeply loved.
As if I were the only one.🤍
Comments