What Do You See, Lord?

But the Lord said to Samuel, “Do not look on his appearance or on the height of his stature, because I have rejected him. For the Lord sees not as man sees: man looks on the outward appearance, but the Lord looks on the heart.” – 1 Samuel 16:7 (ESV)

What do you see, Lord, when you look at me? Do you see my wounds and bruises? The cracks in my character and the imperfections of my skin? Do you see the brokenness? Do you see my sinful thoughts? Do you see the pride, jealousy, bitterness, and anger which boils just below the surface? Do you see the mistakes that I have made, the lies I have told, the guilt that I bear? What do you see, Lord, when you look at me?

The Lord is looking at me, tears in his eyes. He hurts for the pain of his son. He ushers me to sit. Oh, how I have longed to just rest awhile. Just to sit and breathe. The pain and exhaustion of holding myself up under the weight of the world I have created for myself is just too much to bear. So, I sit. And I weep. And my Lord weeps with me. He washes me with his tears, and he wraps me in his robes. The rags I wore he burns with the flame in his eyes.

How can I ever be worthy of such love? I look at me and see all the things that shouldn’t be there. My Lord looks at me and sees only that which he created. His wonderful, beautiful, joyful boy. He sees the passion, the potential, the destiny, the strength. I see such weakness and fear. I see a man spending all of his effort trying to push a car that is stuck in park. My Lord sees my drive to be close to him. My desire to be near to him. That’s the only place that I truly feel like I can see myself for who I really am. Pure. Blameless. Loved. Brave. Joyful. Strong. Passionate. Humble.

Why would I ever want to be anywhere else. I draw near to him, ever so slowly. If I could move faster, I would. But my feet drag in the dust and the dirt. Weary with miles walked in the wrong direction. My lips are cracked by the dry, hot air of the desert of worldliness. I may as well be crawling. Inching towards my Father. I know he will help me. I know he will save me. I know he will see me and love me. One step at a time. I fall to my knees. The pain is too much to bear. My head hangs with defeat.

Look up. Look into my eyes. I have come for you. I have not forgotten my promise to you, my son. I am here. I have run to meet you and to carry you to my home. Drink my water, eat my food. Wear my robes, dwell in my land. I have made you whole. I have made you clean. I have made you strong. I have made you. You are not as you see you. You are as I see you. And I see you as I made you.

The Lord is looking at me, tears in his eyes. He hurts for the pain of his son. He ushers me to sit . . .

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