Do You See Me?

“Do you see me?” says the man on the street corner, begging, broken, bruised. “Do you see me?” says the addict struggling to stay clean as she walks in and out of the cycle of addiction wondering if she will ever be worthy. The guilt of her destructive behavior an anvil around her neck. “Do you see me?” says the man or woman who has struggled with adultery. “Do you see me?” says the single father or mother trying to provide for their babies. “Do you see me?” says the man in prison. “Do you see me?” says the stay at home mom who feels like she is going crazy. “Do you see me?” says the mom, dad, sister, brother, etc, who is grieving the loss of a loved one. “Do you see me?” says the child battling cancer. “Do you see me?” says the teen that is contemplating suicide. “Do you see me?” says the woman that struggles with her worth and self- image. “Do you see?” says the little girl or boy who has been removed from their family and bounced around through the foster system.

Do you see yourself?

Does your situation have you crying out to God “Do you see me?” Are you tired, worn-out; your heart, mind and body clothed in tattered rags? Not like those comfy old worn out jeans that are made of cotton but feel like silk because they have been washed so much. Not like those jeans that are worn so thin with so many holes in them your friends think you spent a fortune on them to be “in fashion”. Tattered and torn, like paper being fed through a shredder. Wondering if you can ever piece it all back together.

I can certainly see myself. Face down on the floor, wracking sobs shaking my body as I cry out “Do you see me God? Do you see my hurt? Do you see my broken? Do you see my sin? Do you see how it screwed it up? Do you see my rags? They do not make me feel like royalty. These rags make me feel vulnerable, afraid, unloved, forgotten, ashamed.

I see you.

In the quiet whisper, God says, not only do I see you, but I love you. Remember to lean into me and not on your own understanding. I burned those rags at the foot of the cross when I sent my son to die on that cross for you. I clothed you in my royalty when you gave your life to me. You, my child, are sons and daughters of THE KING OF KINGS! Lord of ALL! I will be a Father to you and you will be my sons and daughters, says the Lord. (2 Corinthians 6:18).

Square those shoulders, stand tall and adjust your crown.

I don’t say this flippantly, as I know how difficult it is to see yourself as royalty when you are walking in that place that has you crying out to God “Do you see me?”. I know the weight of what you are going through can make it difficult to stand up, much less, stand tall. I know the weight on your shoulds can have you looking down at the ground instead of up to the heavens because you just don’t have the strength to square your shoulders. I know that some days you could care less if your crown is adjusted. You are just grateful it hasn’t crashed to the ground. I know that sometimes the only words that come are “Do you see me?”

In the quiet whispers, remember:

When we choose Jesus as our Lord and Savior the victory is ours, in Jesus name, over every struggle, hurt, fear, doubt and disappointment this broken world may throw our way. He goes before us even when we feel like we have been left behind. The Lord is the one who goes ahead of you; He will be with you, He will not fail you or forsake you. Do not fear or be dismayed. (Deuteronomy 31:8). We must practice walking in these truths by setting our heart and mind on the things of heaven not earth.

He clothes us in the riches of His grace and mercy.

Practice dropping those rags and picking up your crown.

For I am persuaded that neither death, nor life, nor principalities nor powers, nor things present nor things to come, nor height nor depth, nor any other created thing, shall be able to separate us from the love of God which is in Christ Jesus our Lord. (Romans 8:38-39)

In him we have redemption through His blood, the forgiveness of sins, according to the riches of His grace. (Ephesians 1:7)

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The Beauty of Suffering

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Finding Joy in the Midst of Grief