He Sees The Whole

Sometimes we believe God only sees the broken pieces.

The parts we wish were different. The habits we’re still fighting. The insecurities we try to outgrow. And when we believe that’s all He sees, we start hiding — from Him and from others. We become performative. A little more religious. Sometimes more judgmental. Sometimes more isolated.

If He only sees the fractured parts, then we feel the need to manage the image.

But that isn’t what His grace does.

I have to remind myself what His grace has always done and will always do — it covers, restores, reconciles, and redeems. Grace does not magnify my flaws; it magnifies His sufficiency.

One of the simplest prayers I pray when I feel overwhelmed, insecure, or anxious is:

“More of You, God. Less of me.”

There was a time I prayed that hoping the Lord would shrink me — shrink my insecurities, my weaknesses, my lack. Especially in my corporate years. When I had to pitch. When I had to sell. When I stood in rooms where confidence felt like currency. I would worry I might stumble over my words or that my presence wouldn’t read strong enough.

So I would whisper that prayer… and then open my mouth.

And something shifted.

When people complimented my communication skills or my ability to sell at a high level, I would quietly thank God inside. I knew He had heard me. I knew He had used me. It wasn’t about shrinking who I was — it was about surrendering who I was.

That prayer became more than a coping mechanism. It became a witness.

There was a coworker I grew very close to — she was Muslim and had moved to Los Angeles from Macedonia. I remember noticing how she would watch me work, almost like she was studying my posture and approach. One day she finally asked, “How are you doing that?”

I smiled and said, “Do you really want to know?”

And then I told her the truth.

“I pray. Before I talk to anyone, I ask the Lord for more of Him and less of me.”

I watched her face when the words left my mouth — almost as if she was thinking, it can’t be that simple.

But it was.

Over time, our friendship deepened. It became the kind of friendship where faith wasn’t forced but present. When her mother passed away, she let me pray for her. Later, I invited her to church. She came — open. And she kept coming for months.

I still believe the seeds planted in that season will continue to grow. I believe she will remember that Jesus loves her and is with her every day.

Because here is the truth: God does not see only our flaws. He does not fixate on our fractured places. He sees the whole of us.

He sees the image He formed.

He sees the story He is still writing.

He sees the redemption already in motion.

And when we understand that, we stop hiding.

We stop performing.

We stop trying to shrink ourselves in order to be acceptable.

“ More of You, God. Less of me” was never a prayer to disappear. It was a prayer to be filled.

To be so aware of His presence that insecurity loses its grip.

To be so anchored in His grace that performance becomes unnecessary.

To be so confident in His covering that we can stand fully seen.

Sometimes we believe God only sees the broken pieces.

But grace reminds us — He sees the whole.

And He calls it loved.

With love and grace