Recently I’ve enjoyed a podcast looking at the lives of the people closest to prominent historical figures, like Mary Lincoln, Sophia Tolstoy, and Kastubra Gandhi. 

Well, “enjoyed” may be the wrong word. The lives and tales involved are very complicated, at times disturbing. The aim of the show isn’t to render a verdict, though some wrongs and some brilliance are clearly named. The goal isn’t to judge either the “great” or their significant other, but rather to see.

Seeing and being seen are powerful. Uncomfortable at times, even. While part of us may yearn to be seen, delight in being known, another part of us may fear others will see what we seek to conceal, or we may fear what they, often a fellow fallible human, will do with their knowledge and our vulnerability.

Yet this kind of seeing, this proximity, is integral to loving and being loved, integral to our humanity. 

As Zaccheus struggled to see Jesus, something profound happened: Jesus saw him. When Nathaniel less enthusiastically came to see Jesus, a similar thing occurred: Jesus saw him. In both cases, being seen by Jesus was profoundly transformative. In both cases, it allowed these men to truly see Jesus. They were made more human, more whole, by the encounter. 

What does it mean for you to be seen by Jesus?

As we are seen by Jesus, we see him with greater clarity. Not only that, we are able to give the gift of seeing others, and emboldened to be seen by others. 

Paul invited the Philippian Christians to, “in humility, value others above yourselves.”

Seeing others is part of how we value them. Far from assessing others, seeing others in humility allows us to take in that which makes them lovely, and desire its increase. It allows us to care, even if the other person is messy (spoiler: they are!).

Being seen is also an act of humility, taking the risk to allow others to care about us. Far from cajoling or challenging others to meet our need for significance, offering ourselves in humility to be seen allows us to be known in all our loveliness and mess, including the facets to which we are blind. It allows others to care about and for us, on terms we do not entirely dictate. Humbling indeed!

I wonder what gifts God has in store for us, as we receive God’s transformative gaze, and seek to, in humility, value others above ourselves. Might our love be marked by a fresh fearlessness? A new neighborliness? Certainly a deeper sense of the companionship of Christ. Whatever He intends to do, I look forward to seeing it together.
 

Honored to see you, and humbled to be seen by you,
Sarah+