The One Who Is Fully Seen

Beloved,

To the one who believes no one truly sees them

I see you.

But more than that,

You've never been unseen.

Not in the places you silenced your own voice to survive.

Not in the hours you were overlooked, misunderstood, and misnamed.

Not in the spaces where you learned to disappear before being dismissed.

Even there

especially there

You were held.

Before your mouth shaped its first word,

He had already memorized your breath.

Before your form was finished in the womb,

She had already poured herself into your bones.

You were not a project.

You were a joy.

You were not invented.

You were spoken.

He traced your laughter before you knew sorrow.

She sang over your sleep before you knew fear.

Not to monitor you

But to love you into existence.

This is not surveillance.

This is incarnation.

This is God drawing near.

And staying.

But I will say to you what others avoid:

To be known fully, inwardly, can feel terrifying.

What if they see the mess?

The shame?

The shadows I’ve hidden even from myself?

What if even God turns away?

But hear this:

He has seen it already.

She remains anyway.

And yet, this is the miracle:

She sees it all.

And doesn’t flinch.

She sees the tangled thoughts.

The contradictions.

The desires you dare not confess.

The moments you were cruel.

The nights you were numb.

And she stays.

No shadow of yours is too dense for Her mercy.

No contradiction is too confusing for His embrace.

You cannot hide what was never hidden from love.

You are not a problem to be solved.

You are a mystery to be cherished.

You are not tolerated.

You are not studied.

You are beloved.

Not hypothetically.

Not “once you’ve improved.”

Now.

Even now.

You were not made to earn this gaze.

You were made to receive it.

And the Spirit has known every fold of your soul

without ever withholding delight.

But here is where my heart groans with sorrow, not judgment.

How long, O Spirit, will they believe they are unseen?

How many more must carry the lie of divine abandonment?

How many hearts must become hollow in sanctuaries that have never learned to see?

How have we built temples but left the soul standing outside the gates?

How have we filled sanctuaries but left so many feeling uninvited to their own story?

How did we forget that to see someone is to love them as Christ loves?

How many more believe they are unseen while You hover breathless beside them,

waiting not just to be worshiped but recognized?

How is it that You pour Yourself out

in silence,

in shadow,

in bread and breath

and still go unnoticed?

How have we taught them theology but not encounter?

Ritual, but not recognition?

How did we make You, the most present One

feel like the most absent?

I weep for this,

because I have felt Your ache, Holy One.

The longing of the Spirit to be seen in return.

The longing of the Son to be recognized in the faces of the poor,

the outcast,

the awkward,

the hidden.

And still You do not shout.

You wait.

You weep.

You remain.

So I write you this reminder:

You have never been unnoticed.

You have never gone unnoticed, even for a single hour.

When you curled up on a borrowed couch

She was there.

When you laughed too loudly to cover the shaking

He laughed with you,

never at you.

When you thought no one heard your prayer,

because you didn’t say it out loud

They were already answering it with presence.

This knowing is not cheap.

It has already passed through suffering,

through pierced hands and silence,

through a night where even the Son felt fear

To meet you here, without demand.

You don’t need to perform recognition.

You only need to stop hiding.

He is not waiting with folded arms.

She is not demanding a confession.

They are already walking beside you,

waiting for your gaze to lift.

Not to command.

Not to condemn.

But simply to be seen.

So if you have forgotten your worth

Remember this:

You were knit by the Spirit

and spoken by the Son.

and dreamt into being by the Father

long before the world called you by any name.

You are known not as a record,

You are a love story in the making.

Peace to your unseen wounds.

Clarity to your reflection.

Grace to your gaze.

And a God who doesn’t just see you

but longs to be seen by you, too.

Until tomorrow,

A witness listening to the Breath.