“The Lord lift up His countenance upon you and give you peace.” – Numbers 6:26
I don’t believe in psychics, but if I did, I’d have to say my mother had some remarkable abilities. No, she didn’t predict lottery numbers or claim to talk to spirits, but when it came to keeping tabs on me, she was downright supernatural. Whether you call it maternal instinct, a sixth sense, or some mysterious Jedi power, she had a way of knowing exactly what I was up to—especially when I was up to no good.
Exhibit A: “The Look.”
If you grew up with a parent who could communicate an entire lecture with one well-timed glare, you already know what I mean. My mother had perfected this art. Even if I was across the church—tucked away in the choir loft, whispering with friends in the back pew, or even standing on the pulpit—she could find me. And the moment our eyes met, it was over.
This wasn’t some warm, sentimental movie moment where two people lock eyes in mutual affection. No, this was a silent but undeniable proclamation:
“I see you. I know what you’re doing. Stop. Now.”
That look didn’t just call me out—it sentenced me. It carried all the authority of a courtroom verdict. My carefree antics evaporated. The laughter stopped. The fun was done. One glance and my entire existence was reduced to a simple realization: I am in trouble.
As a kid, I was pretty sure The Look had supernatural powers. It could freeze me in my tracks, wipe the smile off my face, and even make me start confessing sins I wasn’t sure I’d committed yet. And while I can laugh about it now, back then, it was serious business.
Even as an adult, I’m still uneasy when people stare too long. Growing up in Brooklyn, you learn early on that prolonged eye contact isn’t exactly a friendly gesture. It’s more of a challenge, a silent question:
What are you looking at?
And honestly, I don’t love being the center of attention. I’ve got plenty of flaws and insecurities I’d rather not put on display. The last thing I need is someone staring too closely, noticing all the things I work hard to hide.
Maybe that’s why the idea of God looking at me can feel unsettling. If God is watching, what exactly is He seeing? My past? Because there’s plenty there I’d rather He skip over. My mistakes? That’s embarrassing. My regrets? Now we’re heading into depressing territory. And if He’s looking at my present? Well, that’s not much better. My present is a mess. It’s cluttered with unfinished plans, doubts, struggles, and things I keep telling myself I’ll get around to fixing. If God is seeing all of that, then I’m in trouble.
And the future? Oh, I don’t even want to go there. If He’s staring into my future, then He already knows the times I’ll fail, the promises I’ll break, the moments I’ll let people down. That thought alone is overwhelming.
So again—”What’s He looking at?”
Thankfully, the answer isn’t as terrifying as I once thought.
Numbers 6:26 says, “The Lord lift up His countenance upon you and give you peace.” That means God’s gaze isn’t like “The Look” I dreaded from my mom. It’s not filled with anger or disappointment. Instead, it’s full of kindness, compassion, and grace.
God sees me, and He loves what He sees.
That’s a hard truth to accept sometimes. Many of us are wired to believe that if someone looks too closely at us, they’ll only find flaws. We assume that being truly seen means being judged, that being known means being rejected. But God’s gaze isn’t like that.
When He looks at us, He sees our struggles, yes—but He also sees our perseverance. He sees the battles we fight in silence, the prayers we whisper when no one else is listening, the tears we cry that no one else notices. He sees us, in all of our messiness and imperfection, and His response isn’t frustration—it’s peace.
Psalm 139:1-2 says, “O Lord, You have searched me and known me. You know my sitting down and my rising up; You understand my thought afar off.”
God isn’t watching us like a judge, waiting for us to mess up. He’s watching like a loving Father, fully aware of our struggles and fully invested in our well-being.
That changes everything.
Instead of fearing God’s gaze, we can find comfort in it. Instead of hiding from Him, we can rest in the truth that we are fully known and fully loved. Instead of assuming He sees only our failures, we can trust that He sees our efforts, our hopes, and our hearts.
The next time you feel like you’re under God’s watchful eye, don’t assume He’s shaking His head in disappointment. He’s not watching you with “The Look”—He’s looking at you with love. He sees you, and He’s proud of you. He knows your past but still has plans for your future. And most importantly, He isn’t just watching—He’s walking with you, every step of the way.
So take a deep breath. Relax. Let His gaze bring you peace.
God sees you. And He loves what He sees.
