Reliance

“I feel seen.”

It’s a phrase you might not have heard a few years ago… at least not with the frequency you do today.

The first time someone said it to me was in a coaching session. I had just validated my client’s feelings about the difficult subject matter she was preparing to share with a vast internet audience. I remember thinking it was an odd way to express the sentiment, though I readily understood it and was grateful to know I’d created a safe space for her words and feelings.

Since then, I’ve heard it countless times in casual conversation and, thankfully, also from more clients. 

It’s only been in recent months as I’ve confronted a new season of uncertainty that I’ve longed to “feel seen.”  I’ve been profoundly grateful for those close to me—many of whom are in their own difficult circumstances—who’ve written notes or texts of encouragement, called to check in, or chosen to show up out of a desire to support me even when they might have preferred to reschedule our meetup. 

In those moments, I’ve felt seen. And valued and loved.

In our modern vernacular, feeling “seen” simply means your feelings are understood and valued. Your thoughts and experiences are acknowledged—even if they’ve gone unexpressed—because the other person determined to engage empathetically, trying to imagine what it would be like to walk in your shoes. The benefits are increased trust, less isolation, and lasting connection. 

But the idea isn’t modern at all.

In fact, the first time a human being gave a name to God, it was because she felt seen by Him. Hagar, Abram’s Egyptian servant, became pregnant by Abram (at his wife Sarai’s direction). Perhaps unsurprisingly, Sarai grew jealous and “dealt harshly” with Hagar who fled into the wilderness (Genesis 16:6). There she encountered the angel of Lord who assured her that “the Lord [had] heard of [her] misery” (v. 11). Her response to this tender encounter: 

Feeling seen by God enabled her to go back to her mistress. It gave her the fortitude to return to the difficult circumstances she’d desperately wanted to escape. 

Only being seen by God can imbue this kind of strength and resolve. Preaching to myself here: We can’t expect to receive this kind of “seeing” from humans. In seasons of heartache or hopelessness we must look to Him as the One Who Sees, asking Him to meet us in the wilderness of our hearts. 

He will meet us there, strengthening us to persevere and comforting us lovingly.

Sometimes He’ll do it through His Word, providing an apt passage of Scripture to speak into our circumstances. Other times, He’ll use a sermon or a moment of silent prayer. And, yes, still other times He might “see us” through the care and tenderness of a friend or loved one. (May we be willing to be used by Him to “see” others, as well.) 

Whatever your circumstances are, I pray you feel seen today—by the God Who Sees.