Seen

Beyond the Lights

The other night, I turned on one of my favorite romance films expecting a simple escape—but what I got was a divine encounter. I ended the night in tears. Not because the movie was sad, but because it reached into a deep place in me and wrapped me up like a warm embrace. Or maybe it wasn’t the movie at all—maybe it was God.

Because yes, He can use anything to speak to us. Even a love story.

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The Power of Sight

This film spoke to me about something sacred: being seen.

The main character was adored by the world, a star in every room. But inside, she was crumbling. She was known by her image, not by her truth. Behind the makeup, the spotlight, and the applause, she felt like a prisoner—living out her mother’s dream, not her own. She wasn’t living, she was performing. And that performance was slowly killing her.

It made me reflect: How often do we do the same?

How many of us are performing versions of ourselves—pleasing parents, lovers, friends, or even societal expectations—while silently burying our true selves beneath the weight of “should”?

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When Someone Finally Sees You

There’s a moment I can’t forget. She stood on the edge, ready to give up on life. Her security guard, the one person who had been quietly watching her from the background, reached out and grabbed her hand. But he couldn’t save her on his own. She had to want to live.

And then she asked him something that shattered me:

“Do you see me?”

He looked at her and answered, “Yes.”

That answer gave her the will to hold on. She later told him, “You saw the good in me, and it made me want to live.”

That day, the version of her the world created died. But the real woman—the one he saw—was born.

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Two Truths That Changed Me

As I sat there crying, two truths rose in my spirit:

1. I desire a partner who truly sees me.

2. God already does.

God sees the real me—the woman I’ve become through pain, growth, resilience, and grace. And He calls her good. He sees the version of me I sometimes forget exists. And He’s not trying to shape me into someone else’s idea of worthy. His love saves me every single time.

But I also know this: when the right man comes, he’ll see that woman too. Not the version people assume I am. Not the performance. But the real me. And he’ll love her back to life in all the ways that matter. That’s what love looks like—it breathes life into who you are, not who you’re pretending to be.

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Letting the Real You Live

I’ve spent years unlearning distorted versions of love. I’ve watched selfishness masquerade as care, control wear the mask of concern, and silence get mistaken for peace.

But today, I know better.

Real love sees.

Real love saves.

Real love frees you to be exactly who you are—and even more of who God designed you to be.

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Call to Action:

If you’ve ever felt unseen, unheard, or like you were living someone else’s story—I invite you to reflect on this:

Who are you beneath the performance? And what would happen if someone truly saw you?

Let’s talk about it.

Join the conversation.