TO SEE
In my last post, we discussed the beautiful reality that we are seen, loved, and known by God. Yet even as I sat with that truth, a friend said something that stuck with me — and I began to realize that many people around me probably feel the way I once did: lonely and unseen. Life has a way of getting so busy that we neglect this reality altogether.
Remember the story I shared in my last post? I have to reiterate that they were not bad people. They were simply so consumed with their own lives that they didn’t see me.
And one of the reasons I am convinced they aren’t entirely to blame is because there was a time I became that very friend.
One day, as I was rushing to the music room, I saw a friend from church. I had carefully planned my schedule and was determined to stay on track. Even though I was in a hurry, I stopped to say hi—but I had already decided I wouldn’t stay long.
She greeted me back, and just before I could leave, she suddenly burst into tears.
I sighed internally, knowing my plans were about to change. I stayed with her and comforted her as she shared her burdens. Looking back, I often wonder what would have happened if I hadn’t stopped—or if I had been moving so fast that I didn’t even notice.
That moment taught me something I haven’t forgotten: it is possible to stand in front of a hurting person and not truly see them.
When I reflect on that season, I understand why I was in such a rush. I was self-absorbed—not out of pride, but out of survival. I didn’t have stable housing on campus, moving from place to place, sometimes only staying a week or two before returning to my house. Money was tight, and when I was on campus, food was also tight. And on top of it all, I was navigating mental health challenges while trying to keep up with the demands of nursing school.
It wasn’t my best year.
Still, understanding the reason doesn’t erase the impact.
I had become so consumed with my own struggles that I failed to see the people around me—people who were likely hurting too.
And the truth is, even with everything I was carrying, I could have made more room for others, because no matter how busy life gets, I can still choose to see people the way I want to be seen.
That conviction deepened during a period of loneliness. I had shared my burden with a friend, and she said something that shifted everything:
“If you feel this way, others probably do too.”
That hurt. Because it forced me to confront a hard question—how could someone around me feel lonely and unloved when I genuinely loved them?
And then it hit me:
In some ways, I had contributed to the very loneliness I once complained about. The thing I resented in others……
I had quietly become.
That realization left me with a question I couldn’t ignore:
If we desire community so deeply, why do we wait for someone else to create it when we have the power to begin building it ourselves?
We all long to be seen—truly seen—by those we love and care about. There is something deeply human about that longing, that need for affirmation and validation. And yet, many of us know what it feels like to be overlooked, to be in a room full of people and still feel invisible.
Someone once told me that the healing for loneliness begins when you find someone who feels the same way—and simply choose to be there for them.
That shifted something in me, because I started to notice that the more I focused only on my own struggles, the heavier everything felt.
Have you ever stared at an outfit for so long that it suddenly looked unattractive? Or fixated on someone’s flaw until it seemed far bigger than it really was, until someone else reminded you it wasn’t that serious?
In the same way, when our attention is constantly turned inward, our pain expands. The more we fixate on our own struggles, the more overwhelming everything becomes.
So what would happen if we chose to look outward instead?
Even our Savior said it is more blessed to give than to receive. What if the very thing we are searching for is found in giving it away? What if the path toward healing begins the moment we stop waiting and start seeing?
Joseph shows us what this looks like in practice. Despite being betrayed by his brothers, sold into slavery, and thrown into prison, he still noticed the sorrow of those around him. In Genesis 40, he saw that the cupbearer and baker were troubled — and he paused to ask why.
He didn’t have to.
He had every reason to be consumed by his own pain. But he looked outward anyway, and that simple act of noticing eventually positioned him for purpose.
Seeing people is not passive. It is an intentional choice to look beyond yourself.
And then there is Jesus — the ultimate example.
In Matthew 14, He received word that His cousin John had been beheaded. Grieving, he withdrew to a quiet place — only to be followed by crowds. Yet in the middle of His own sorrow, He looked up at them and had compassion.
In Matthew 15, after three days of healing the masses, He turned to His disciples and asked what the people would eat — still thinking of others through His own exhaustion.
And on the cross, in the depth of unimaginable suffering, He looked down and made provision for His mother’s care (John 19:27).
How does someone endure that much pain and still find the capacity to think of others?
That is what it looks like to truly see people — not when it is easy, but especially when it is not.
And that’s what we’ll explore next.
Note: I love using this blog to share my music with y’all! I feel like I listen to artistes who aren’t widely recognized, and I firmly believe that their music should be shared with the world! So enjoy music from one of my favorite artistes!
