A Lens of Faith
Seeing the World Through the Eyes of Beloved Identity
There is a quiet war waged in the heart of every person—a battle not fought with swords or shields but with thoughts, perceptions, and beliefs. It’s the war for vision.
Not the vision to simply see with our natural eyes, but the deeper sight—the way we interpret reality, the way we perceive ourselves, the way we understand God, and the way we look at others. The lens through which we view the world shapes everything. It determines our decisions, our reactions, our hopes, and even our fears. But what if the lens we’ve been looking through is broken? What if our vision has been blurred by years of believing lies about who we are and who God is?
This is where faith steps in—not just as a belief system, not just as doctrines or creeds, but as a lens. Faith is the sacred glasses through which we are meant to view the world. But here’s the problem: most of us have been wearing the wrong prescription. We’ve been looking at life through lenses clouded with fear, shame, scarcity, and striving. No wonder we feel disoriented. No wonder the world feels overwhelming.
But Jesus offers us a different way to see. He invites us into what Scripture calls metanoia. It’s a word often translated as “repentance,” but its meaning goes deeper than just feeling bad for our mistakes. Metanoia is about transformation. It’s a complete shift in how we think, perceive, and ultimately how we see. It’s as if Jesus is gently reaching out, lifting the fogged lenses off our faces, and saying, “See again. But this time, see through My eyes.”
The Foundation: Seeing Ourselves as the Beloved
Before we can talk about changing how we see the world, we must start with the most foundational vision of all—how we see ourselves. Because the truth is, we can only see others and the world as clearly as we see ourselves. If we look at ourselves through the lens of unworthiness, we will project that brokenness onto everything and everyone around us.
Let’s go back to the beginning of Jesus’ ministry. Before He performed a single miracle, before He preached His first sermon, before He called any disciples, He went into the waters of the Jordan River. As He emerged from the water, the heavens tore open, and the Father’s voice thundered: “This is My beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased” (Matthew 3:17).
Think about that for a moment. Jesus hadn’t done anything yet—not in terms of ministry. No crowds had gathered. No healings had happened. No water had been turned into wine. And yet, the Father declared His delight. Why? Because the Father’s love wasn’t based on what Jesus did; it was based on who He was—the beloved Son.
And here’s the breathtaking truth: what the Father spoke over Jesus, He speaks over you.
You are His beloved.
Pause. Don’t rush past those words. Let them sink in. You are not the sum of your successes or your failures. You are not defined by your past, your mistakes, or even your best moments. Before you were anything else, you were His beloved. Before the world gave you a name, the Father had already called you His own.
But for many of us, that’s the hardest thing to believe. We’ve been wearing the lenses of shame for so long that belovedness feels foreign, even offensive. We think, “Surely I have to earn that kind of love.”But belovedness isn’t something you achieve; it’s something you receive. It’s the truest thing about you, whether you believe it or not.
Without this lens, we’ll always struggle to see clearly. We’ll misinterpret God’s heart, viewing Him as distant or demanding. We’ll misinterpret our own worth, thinking we’re only as valuable as our latest performance. And we’ll misinterpret others, judging them by their brokenness instead of their belovedness.
This is why metanoia is essential. It’s not just about changing bad behaviors; it’s about changing the way we see—starting with ourselves.
The Kingdom Is at Hand: A Vision Shift
When Jesus began His public ministry, His message was clear: “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand” (Matthew 4:17). At first glance, it sounds like a command to feel guilty, to turn from sin. But if we understand the original language, His words come alive with deeper meaning.
“Metanoia, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand.”
In other words: “Change the way you think. Change the way you see. The reality of heaven is closer than you think.”
Jesus wasn’t pointing to a distant, future kingdom we’d reach someday if we were good enough. He was announcing a present reality—a Kingdom breaking into the here and now. The problem wasn’t that the Kingdom was far away. The problem was that people couldn’t see it. They were spiritually blind, looking through the wrong lenses.
And aren’t we the same? How often do we live as if the Kingdom is somewhere out there, beyond the reach of our daily lives? How often do we miss the beauty of God’s presence because our vision is clouded by worry, fear, or distraction?
Jesus didn’t come to offer us a better set of rules. He came to offer us new eyes.
The Man Born Blind: A Lesson in Vision
There’s a powerful story in John 9 that illustrates this. Jesus encounters a man who had been blind from birth. The disciples, stuck in their old way of thinking, ask Him, “Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?” (John 9:2).
Do you hear the assumption in their question? They’re looking through a lens of judgment, convinced that someone’s sin must be to blame. But Jesus, as always, flips the script: “Neither this man nor his parents sinned,” He replies, “but this happened so that the works of God might be displayed in him”(John 9:3).
In one sentence, Jesus shifts the entire framework. Where the disciples saw a problem, Jesus saw a possibility. Where they saw a curse, He saw a canvas for God’s glory.
But here’s the deeper truth: the real blindness in this story isn’t the man’s physical condition. It’s the disciples’ spiritual vision. They could see with their eyes, but they were blind in their hearts. Jesus didn’t just heal the man’s sight; He exposed the disciples’ need for metanoia—for new eyes to see what was right in front of them.
How often do we do the same? How often do we look at our circumstances and think, “This is evidence of failure” or “This is proof that God is distant”? But what if the very thing we’re labeling as a curse is actually the backdrop for God’s grace? What if our broken places aren’t the end of the story, but the beginning of something sacred?
Beholding the Glory: Transformation Through Vision
Paul writes in 2 Corinthians 3:18, “And we all, who with unveiled faces contemplate the Lord’s glory, are being transformed into His image with ever-increasing glory.” The key to transformation isn’t striving harder; it’s beholding. It’s fixing our gaze on Jesus, allowing His beauty to recalibrate our vision.
But this isn’t passive. It’s active, intentional. Every day, we’re being formed by what we behold. If we fix our eyes on fear, we’ll be shaped by anxiety. If we fix our eyes on scarcity, we’ll live from a place of lack. But if we fix our eyes on Jesus—on His love, His goodness, His faithfulness—we’ll be transformed from the inside out.
And here’s the wild part: as we behold Him, we begin to see not just Him differently, but everythingdifferently. We start to see ourselves through His eyes—beloved, cherished, chosen. We start to see others through His eyes—not as interruptions or enemies, but as image-bearers of God. We start to see our circumstances not as obstacles but as opportunities for grace.
On Earth as It Is in Heaven: A Vision for Today
When Jesus taught His disciples to pray, He said, “Your kingdom come, Your will be done, on earth as it is in heaven” (Matthew 6:10). This isn’t a distant hope; it’s a present invitation. We’re not waiting for heaven to come someday. Heaven is waiting to break in today—through us.
But we can’t manifest a Kingdom we don’t see.
That’s why metanoia is so vital. We need new eyes to recognize that the Kingdom is here, now. It’s in the kindness we show to a stranger. It’s in the grace we extend to ourselves. It’s in the quiet moments when we realize we’re not alone. It’s in the beauty of a sunrise, the laughter of a child, the whisper of the Holy Spirit reminding us, “You are My beloved.”
The Invitation: Your Metanoia Moment
Maybe today is your metanoia moment.
Maybe it’s time to take off the old lenses—the ones clouded by shame, fear, scarcity, and striving—and receive new eyes. Eyes that see yourself as the Father sees you: beloved, chosen, delighted in. Eyes that see the world not as broken beyond repair, but as a canvas where God’s love is still painting stories of redemption.
This isn’t just about information. It’s about transformation. It’s not about trying harder. It’s about seeing clearer.
The Kingdom is here. The Father’s arms are open. The invitation is simple:
See again.
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