Seen and Unseen

In all the hype and talk about social media—its dangers and delights—it occurred to me recently that there’s a benefit that perhaps gets overlooked at times. Seeing likes or comments on your post gives the sense of being seen by others. It doesn’t really matter what the post is about—it’s an affirmation that we do exist and are not invisible. That may seem like an inconsequential thing, but consider the fact that through the pandemic there were untold numbers of people living in complete isolation and skyrocketing statistics on depression and anxiety. And isolation still lingers for many people.

I started thinking about the people who show up on my Facebook feed regularly (recognizing that algorithms control that in ways I can’t comprehend), and a large percentage of them are women who never married or are single again. In this podcast transcript from The Gospel Coalition, the comment was made that women use social media to connect with friends and family more so than men do. For those who live alone, social media is a small point of contact to say, “I’m still here and I hope you see me.” And for those who are not working outside the home, through retirement or other reasons, there can be a real deficiency in human contact most days of the week.

Scripture has a variety of references to being seen. One is in Genesis 16 when Hagar fled from Sarai into the wilderness. God speaks to her and her response is, “You are the God who sees me… I have now seen the One who sees me” (16:13 NIV). Another time, when Israel is suffering in bondage in Egypt, we’re told, “God saw the people of Israel—and God knew” (Ex. 2:25).

Jesus was also keen to see and reach out to people who were suffering and who lacked connection in the community.

• Matthew 9:20-22 – “And behold, a woman who had suffered from a discharge of blood for twelve years came up behind Him and touched the fringe of His garment… Jesus turned, and seeing her He said, ‘Take heart, daughter; your faith has made you well.”
• Luke 7:12-15 – “As He drew near to the gate of the town, behold, a man who had died was being carried out, the only son of his mother… And when the Lord saw her, He had compassion on her… And He said, ‘Young man, I say to you, arise.’ And the dead man sat up and began to speak, and Jesus gave him to his mother.”
• Luke 13:11-12 – “And behold, there was a woman who had had a disabling spirit for eighteen years. She was bent over and could not fully straighten herself. When Jesus saw her, He called her over and said to her, ‘Woman, you are freed from your disability.’”
• John 5:5-6 – At the pool of Bethesda, “One man was there who had been an invalid for thirty-eight years. When Jesus saw him lying there and knew that he had already been there a long time, He said to him, ‘Do you want to be healed?’”

Sometimes the church is not so good at seeing the suffering and lonely individuals in our midst. In many churches, the only time we acknowledge sorrow is at funerals. Our worship services rarely include songs of lament, and prayer times often only include physical needs. In his book Finding Jesus in the Storm: The Spiritual Lives of Christians with Mental Health Challenges, John Swinton writes:

“If our liturgical practices do not take onboard the full breadth of human experiences, our formation will be incomplete… ‘We don’t name, we don’t lift up mental illness in our litany of concerns, so people feel invisible.’ The suggestion that some people may become invisible in worship is deeply troubling. If… some among us ‘disappear’ because of the shape of our worship practices, then all of us are failing in our task to honor God and to love our neighbor” (208-209).

Whether it’s in our church services or in daily life, to be the Body of Christ we need to follow Jesus' example of truly seeing those around us and making sure they don’t fall through the cracks and disappear.

“If one member suffers, all suffer together; if one member is honored, all rejoice together” (1 Cor. 12:26).

***

© 2022 Dawn Rutan. Unless otherwise indicated, all Scripture are ESV and all images are copyright free from pixabay.com. The opinions stated do not necessarily reflect the views of my church or employer.

Unseen and Seen

Her heart was pounding as she looked at the crowd in front of her. What she was about to do was by far the most terrifying thing she’d ever done. Harder than twelve years of calling out “Unclean!” as people walked by. Harder than twelve years of explaining her problem to doctors just to have them shake their head instead of providing a cure. Harder than twelve years of being banned from the Temple and isolated from her family. Her shame was a heavy burden, but her desperation was greater. She hid her face and slipped into the crowd, hoping that no one would recognize her and point her out. “If I can just touch the Healer’s garment...” Desperation drove her forward when fear tried to hold her back. Her hand slipped between two men and brushed the fringe of His cloak. She knew immediately it had worked and she quickly started to move away, but the Healer had noticed. He stopped and looked around, asking who had touched Him. His eyes met hers and she fell at His feet as the shame of twelve years crushed her to the ground. She started babbling an explanation, but she wasn’t even sure if the words were coming out. All she could hear was the pounding of her heart. “Daughter...” What did He say? “My daughter, lift up your head. Look at Me.” He reached down and grasped her hands, the first person to touch her in twelve years. As He drew her to her feet, she looked into His eyes and saw no condemnation, only love. Twelve years of shame and fear, pain and weakness, all fell away in that moment. “Daughter, your faith has made you well. Go in peace and be healed of your disease.”

The faith of this unnamed woman not only brought her healing, it also got her mentioned in three of the gospels. A woman who had been unclean and unseen caught the attention of the whole crowd. It must have been a memorable experience if Matthew, Mark and Luke all felt the need to share her story. Of all the names Jesus could have called her, He chose to call her Daughter, the same name used of Jairus’s child whose healing she was interrupting. This woman was no less important than the daughter of a synagogue ruler. Both of them received new life that day.

Although none of us really understand what it would be like to be unclean and outcast under the Jewish law, we all can think of moments of shame when all we wanted to do was disappear. Jesus could have let the woman be healed quietly and covertly and no one else needed to know what had just happened. He called her out, not just to reveal that she was physically healed, but to bring wholeness out of her brokenness, grace out of her shame, and strength out of her weakness. Her moment of deepest shame became a moment of splendor. God’s glory was revealed in a life that was not just healed but transformed.

God wants to do that for each of us. When we would settle for relief from pain and disease, He has a much greater plan of redemption. When we would like to simply enjoy a measure of healing, He wants to use our stories for His glory. He can take all our shame and weakness and brokenness and bring comfort, encouragement, and faith to many others, but only if we are willing to be seen. He can redeem our shame for His splendor. All we have to do is take those fearful, trembling steps forward to fall at His feet.

As much as I want to be used by God, I confess that shame is a powerful demotivator. It seems far easier to stay hidden and hurting than to take those little steps of faith toward wholeness. It seems easier to find ways to cope with the hardships of life than to let God uncover them for all the world to see and to judge. But His grace is greater than all our sin, shame, and suffering. Do I believe that today? Do you? Will we choose to be trust the One who knows all our secrets and risk being seen?

“Oh, guard my soul, and deliver me! Let me not be put to shame, for I take refuge in You” (Psalm 25:20 ESV).

© 2016 Dawn Rutan.

In Your Eyes

You saw me there, far from home,

Feeding pigs that weren’t my own.

You saw me there, beside the well,

You knew the secrets I would not tell.

You saw me there, among the graves,

Screaming and fighting in my rage.

You saw me there, beneath the tree,

And called me then to follow Thee.

You saw me there, within the crowd,

Years of suffering my back had bowed.

You saw me there, though I could not see,

Until You reached out and touched me.

You saw me there, as demons screamed,

You delivered me, my soul redeemed.

You saw me there, washing Your feet,

Though Pharisees called me indiscreet.

You saw me there, clothed in my shame,

They only wanted one to blame.

You saw me there, my son had died,

You said, “Don’t weep; child arise.”

You saw me there, I could not hear,

You sighed and gently touched my ears.

You saw me there, where I knelt,

“Daughter, your faith has made you well.”

You see me here, within the dark,

You formed my body, You know my heart.

You knew my thoughts and every word,

Long before my voice was heard.

You know my joys, You see my tears,

You keep repeating, “Do not fear.”

I thank You, Lord, for seeing me,

And making me who You’d have me be.

“I am the Good Shepherd. I know My own, and My own know Me... My sheep hear My voice, and I know them, and they follow Me. I give them eternal life, and they will never perish and no one will snatch them out of My hand.” -John 10:14, 27-28

See also Luke 15, John 4, Mark 5, John 1, Luke 13, Mark 8, Luke 8, Luke 7, John 8, Mark 7, and Psalm 139.