What God Sees in Me
Spoken Word by Mikey & V
I’ve asked the question in silence.
In the middle of the night,
when the lights are off
and the lies get loud:
“What does God see in me?”
Because sometimes I don’t see much.
Just scars in the mirror.
Just memories I can’t fix.
Just mistakes that still echo like they happened yesterday.
But God doesn’t flinch when He looks at me.
He doesn’t recoil.
He doesn’t wince.
He sees the Son.
Not just Jesus in general —
but Jesus in me.
The fingerprints of Heaven
still pressed into my chest
even when I forgot I was made of more than dust.
He sees the blood already paid.
The victory already sealed.
The war already won over my identity
even when I’m still learning how to walk like a son.
He sees the blueprint.
The one written before time
when He looked through eternity and whispered,
"That one. That one’s mine."
Not a mistake.
Not a leftover.
Not too broken to use.
But a vessel being restored from the inside out.
He sees my heart —
even when it’s messy.
Even when I don’t know how to talk to Him right.
Even when I walk away and crawl back.
He sees that I keep coming.
That I keep fighting.
That I still believe
there’s something sacred in me worth redeeming.
He sees a king under construction.
A son in the fire,
not burning,
but becoming.
Final Truth:
What God sees in me
isn’t what I’ve done —
it’s what He planted.
What He’s redeeming.
What He’s calling back to life.
He sees the end from the beginning.
He sees the crown, even when I only feel the weight.
He sees me.
And He stays.
And He calls me “son.”

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