Magellan was so engrossed that he had no idea I was watching him and taking his picture. He made me stop and wonder if sometimes I think God can't see me?
I can think of two kind of situations when, frankly, I'm not always quite sure if God sees me: rebellion and despair.
Can we agree that if all of us didn't fall, or stroll, into sinful rebellion, the world wouldn't need a Savior? Oh, I know we try not to, but we just have that nature.
Perhaps rebellion and sin seem a bit distasteful. Maybe think of it as wanting things our own way. I sure was there recently in an orientation for my new teaching role.
"I can't believe this!" "Are you kidding me?" "I just don't buy it, and they can't make me!" Does any of that sound familiar? Hopefully, that still voice speaks up and reels us back in before we actually say any of those things out loud.
But what about when we're sitting at our favorite watering hole Friday evening after work with friends and colleagues? You know, when the conversation spirals down into a dark abyss. I know I've been there! And I hoped God couldn't see or hear me. But He did.
And then those times of despair. . . the loss of a dearly loved one, the promotion you worked so hard for and someone else got, the child or sibling or friend who chooses a dangerous or deadly path. Do I think God can't see me?
See me crying uncontrollably, screaming in the shower, staring at the black ceiling night after night? Does He see me when my eyes and hands and heart so tired I can't see straight? When it seems like I can't see Him, do I assume He can't see me?
Have you been in those places? Times when you've wondered if God could see you? Hoping He didn't, or praying He did. Asking, whispering, "Does God see me?"
And He does.
He does see us. He sees us in rebellion and despair, and everything else along life's journey. He sees us, and loves us, waits to rescue us, longs to bless us. And aren't we glad He does!