I volunteer as the yearbook adviser at my daughters’ school, and I’ve taken more photos than I can count. Ball games, field trips, plays and concerts—you name it, there’s a folder for it on my hard drive. Not every shot is perfect, but I take hundreds at each event, hoping for a handful of keepers.
This week, I was going through the photos from our season opener volleyball game. As I culled through hundreds of images, I set aside a few of my friend’s daughter. Most were a blur—too much noise and the wrong focal point. Still, I sent them to her anyway, half-joking that we should probably fire the photographer.
A few minutes later she replied, “I love these!!! They’re great!”
I chuckled. “You’re too kind,” I typed back.
Then I paused.
My friend didn’t care that the photos weren’t perfect—her daughter was in them. I had captured a hazy image of her bumping the ball in her very first game. They were special because that was her moment.
And I wondered—could that be how God looks at me?
I spend so much of my life looking at my flaws, wishing I were sharper, clearer, better composed. I replay the moments that didn’t come out right and cringe at the imperfections.
For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face...— 1 Corinthians 13:12a
Maybe part of why I struggle with my blurs is because I long for clarity. I want to understand the why and see the big picture. It can be easy to forget that in this life, even the best picture is only a glimpse. We’re not able to see everything in perfect focus yet. That obscurity itself is a reminder that one day, in His presence, we will finally see clearly.
God sees what we don’t. He isn’t measuring the exposure or critiquing the color balance. He simply sees His child, and He delights in that.
Like as a father pitieth his children, so the LORD pitieth them that fear him. For he knoweth our frame; he remembereth that we are dust. —Psalm 103:13-14
He knows how fragile we are. He knows how often our best efforts come out shaky. Yet He rejoices over us, not because we are flawless, but because we are His.
...Fear not: for I have redeemed thee, I have called thee by thy name; thou art mine. —Isaiah 43:1b
Maybe you view your life the way I was studying those photos—zoomed in on every mistake, disappointed with the results. But God the Father is merciful. He sees the effort behind every frame, and says ‘that’s my girl.’
If He treasures His children that way, perhaps we can extend that same grace to others when they fall short. Perhaps we can even begin to view ourselves that same lens of mercy.
If a mom can love a blurry photo of her child, how much more must God love what He sees in us? Even out of focus, He sees beauty.
