Very often, people say they don’t believe in God because there is no proof; they say that they can’t see Him so He can’t exist. Lately though, I have been wondering if the problem is not that they can’t see Him, but rather that they feel as if He can’t see them.

One grey morning, I drove north, up the interstate. At first, I thought I was going to be late—that I hadn’t left early enough to beat the morning traffic, and so all I could focus on was the road. Then, as I drove around the city, I could see that traffic wasn’t going to be a problem that day so I shifted over to thinking about my destination. A heaviness began to settle in my chest.

It was going to be my third time seeing the specialist, but what good was it going to do? The second medication wasn’t helping the first, as we had hoped. Neither medications were even touching my symptoms; perhaps they were even making them worse.

I got off at my first exit—another highway. Then, when I turned off at the next exit, I started to pray. Willing myself not to cry so I wouldn’t mess up my make up, I started to tell God everything. That I didn’t know what to tell the doctor, other than maybe I felt worse. I told Him, I didn’t understand why I had this problem in the first place, and why did He seem so silent about it? What had I done? Did I do something wrong? Finally, I said:

“God, I don’t even feel like you see me.”

Now, a little back story. For two years I had bounced between doctors—all who had no experience or idea of what was going on with me. I was poked and prodded, only to be told there was nothing they could do. Then, my newest doctor said I needed to see a specialist. There seemed to be a small glimmer of hope, until I found out that the only specialist my doctor found couldn’t see me for another two months.

The day of my first appointment, I remember my husband praying for me, then feeling sick to my stomach all the way there. Thankfully, when I met the doctor, he was kind and I was surprised to feel at ease. He seemed to have more knowledge, was able to diagnose my problem, and even had a few possibilities for treatment—all really good things. Maybe, I thought, I will find healing.

Fast forward a few months later, back to the morning where there seemed to be less answers and more pain—to feeling like God had stepped out for an unknown amount of time. I took a right and then another right into the parking lot of the doctor’s office.  I checked my makeup for any tears that had escaped and made their mark, wiped them away, and then got out of the car.

I checked in at the front the desk, and it wasn’t long before I was brought back to a room. Thankfully, they said the doctor wanted to talk to me before doing an exam, so I was able to stay in my clothes. I remember sitting, staring down at my flip flops, and feeling something like despair, when there was a knock at the door.

The doctor entered and offered me a kind handshake. We went over everything—my symptoms, what we have tried, and how things weren’t working. Then he said what I already knew from doing research online, there weren’t many other options. He could give me more medication, but he couldn’t promise that it would work. He was beginning to look as upset as I was. And then, he did something I have never heard of a doctor doing. He said:

“I am not sure what you believe, but you know, whenever there is something that I just can’t figure out, I always go to God and pray. Do you mind if I pray for you right now?”

I told him that I believed too and that he could definitely pray for me. As he started to pray, the tears started flowing. My makeup was finished. Through that doctor, I knew:

God was telling me that He saw me and that He was with me.

The doctor I wouldn’t have picked out for myself was exactly who I needed in that moment, and God had orchestrated that. Though He seemed to be shockingly absent when my physical pain began, God had actually been working in the background the entire time.

As I said earlier, I still have symptoms of this painful illness. God had and has the power to heal me, but instead He seems to be taking me on a journey in which I am experiencing more of His love—the kind of healing I have needed more. And in the dark moments, He keeps reminding me:

He sees me.

Do you believe God sees you?

 

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