This past Sunday, my church held one of those services that stays with you long after it ends. It was a time of anointing with oil, prayer, and words spoken over individuals—words filled with encouragement, affirmation, and God’s tenderness. Even watching online, I could feel the weight and beauty of the moment. The Holy Spirit doesn’t recognize distance, after all.
Because I live more than an hour away, I attend church virtually. I’m grateful for technology, but I’ll be honest—there are moments when watching from a screen can stir a quiet ache. I’m not physically in the room. I’m not standing at the altar. I’m not being anointed or prayed over in the same visible way. And yet, this Sunday reminded me of something deeply important: God is not confined to buildings, stages, or proximity.
As each person went forward and received a word, I found myself rejoicing with them. Truly rejoicing. I felt joy rise up as I watched my brothers and sisters be seen, encouraged, and loved. And then I noticed something else—something subtle but significant.
There was no jealousy in my heart.
That realization stopped me in my tracks, because it hadn’t always been that way.
There was a time when moments like this would have been painful for me. I would have smiled on the outside while quietly shrinking on the inside. I’d think, Why not me? I’d convince myself that God must have forgotten about me or placed me on some invisible list of people who were just… missed. I believed blessings were handed out to those who were better, stronger, more faithful, more put-together.
I assumed I simply didn’t measure up.
But as I watched and rejoiced this time, I sensed God’s gentle voice speak into my heart—not loud or dramatic, but kind and sure:
“Yes, daughter. Take those words for yourself. I know your heart. I see you. What is being spoken over them is for you too.”
I can’t fully explain what that did to me.
In that moment, it felt like God reached right through the screen and straight into my soul. He wasn’t correcting me; He was inviting me. Inviting me to receive without striving. Inviting me to stop disqualifying myself. Inviting me to believe that His love and affirmation are not scarce resources.
Scripture tells us, “The eyes of the Lord range throughout the earth to strengthen those whose hearts are fully committed to Him” (2 Chronicles 16:9). Not those who are perfect. Not those who are visible. Not those who live closest to the church building. Those whose hearts are His.
For far too long, I’ve carried a quiet belief that something about me was fundamentally wrong. That “wrong” followed me like a shadow. I assumed I was always falling short, always behind, always watching others receive what I could only hope for. I compared myself to people who seemed to do everything right, who always had answers, who never appeared to struggle.
But comparison is a heavy burden, and God never asked us to carry it.
Thankfully, that is not how God works.
God does not measure us the way the world does. He does not withhold goodness until we perform well enough. He is not waiting for us to fix ourselves before He loves us. Scripture reminds us, “But God shows His love for us in this: while we were still sinners, Christ died for us” (Romans 5:8).
That truth changes everything.
I am not seen through the lens of my failures, my doubts, or my past. I am seen through the blood of Jesus. Because of Christ, I am fully accepted, fully forgiven, and fully loved. “In Him we have redemption through His blood, the forgiveness of sins, in accordance with the riches of God’s grace” (Ephesians 1:7).
There is no hierarchy in God’s family. No favored children and forgotten ones. No inner circle and outer edges. We are all equally known and deeply loved.
“For the Lord your God goes with you; He will never leave you nor forsake you” (Deuteronomy 31:6).
What a comfort that is.
What a gift it is to realize that God sees the quiet ones, the unseen ones, the ones watching from a distance. He sees the heart that longs for Him. He sees the tears no one else notices. He sees the faith that keeps showing up—even online—even from far away—even when it feels small.
And He calls us His.
“See what great love the Father has lavished on us, that we should be called children of God! And that is what we are” (1 John 3:1).
If you’re reading this and recognizing yourself in these words—if you’ve ever believed that blessings were for everyone else, that you were somehow overlooked or forgotten—I want you to hear this clearly: you are not invisible to God. You are not an afterthought. You are not disqualified.
Sometimes the words spoken over others are also an invitation for us to receive by faith. To say, Yes, Lord, I’ll take that too. To believe that what God is doing in the room, He is also doing in us.
You are seen.
You are known.
You are deeply loved.
And in God’s Kingdom, there is more than enough grace to go around.
