The Blog That Speaks: The Influencer Who Became Nothing
I heard a young voice crying out, “Daddy . . . Daddy . . . DADDY. . . Look at me!”
I glanced up to observe a young girl under the age of five attempting to amuse herself on the community’s playground equipment. The little girl’s voice indicated increased desperation coupled with exasperation. She was lacking one thing to make her playtime complete: She needed to be seen by her father who was staring at his phone.
Many of us may identify with that little girl. We may recall moments during our childhood when we too cried out to someone, “Look at me!” But, now as adults, we are more developed. We evaluate such behavior in adults in a less favorable light, labeling it as a childish way to seek attention. Yet, this does not have to be the case.
Desiring attention is a basic, valid human need. It is in the same category as the human needs of recognition, acknowledgement, to be noticed, or to be seen.
And lest we assume that as adults that we have outgrown such a need, think again. The need to be seen remains, whether we are 5 or 105. Even as adults, we are still like that kid in the classroom who raises their hand for everything, shouting, “Me! Me! Pick me!” The difference is: adults have found more subtle, sophisticated means to meet the need to be seen. We may buy that super cute (but expensive) outfit with matching shoes or purchase that sporty vehicle with all the trimmings. Others use social media by posting a picture of their latest vacation or typing a witty comment. Some seek to accumulate more followers or choose to become influencers. And then there are those of us who write a blog.
The significance of being seen must not be underrated. It requires the involvement of another person since the need cannot be met in isolation. At its very core is the necessity for relationality. The need to be seen carries substantial weight as it calls out to another human being for validation.
Our value, worth, and acceptability are communicated when we are seen. We know that we matter when we are seen by the other.
To portray the significance of being seen, imagine with me a scenario in which there was someone that you knew, but over time the two of you drifted apart as you each chose a different path. Despite the current lack of contact, however, you have been able to keep track of said person. This individual has become quite visible, gaining much clout, respect, and notoriety with at least umpteen million followers.
More recently, you learned that an organization, of which you are member, has invited this individual from your past to be the featured speaker at the annual meeting, a meeting that you attend. Your interest is peaked. You initially think how nice it would be to connect with said individual again. Your mind envisions various scenarios depicting your first encounter after all these years. But then a different reality sets in, creating doubts that the once-known-to-you person will even remember you. Still, you keep a potential plan in the back of your mind of how your first conversation could unfold . . . just in case. It’s a good plan, but you need enough courage to implement it.
Unfortunately, the plan of how-to-approach-said-prominent person becomes a moot point when you are delayed, causing you to be late to the first session. As you slip into the crowded room, you find an empty seat in the back. Since you are late and far from the front, you begin to have an internal dialogue with yourself. You point out that in contrast to the speaker you are an unknown, living a pedestrian lifestyle, not unlike many others in attendance. You berate yourself about the so-called plan, underscoring solid reasons why you should not execute it. As self-doubt continues to overshadow your mind, you faintly hear your name in the distance. You glance around, only to realize that it is coming from the front of the room. You look and make eye contact with the once-known-but-now-prominent person. You realize that in that moment the person sees you. The person is greeting you by name in front of the entire group. A rush of emotions comes over you. Warm fuzzies explode all over your being. You experience feelings of surprise, pleasure, delight, and thrill. You have not been forgotten. You are seen!
Before we leap to the conclusion as followers of Jesus Christ that the need to be seen is some selfish, psychological mumbo-jumbo, allow me to point out that the need to be seen is not foreign to Scripture. Consider the words of the psalmist David who captures the human need to be seen:
O LORD, you examine me and know me.
You know when I sit down and when I get up;
even from far away you understand my motives.
You carefully observe me when I travel or when I lie down to rest;
you are aware of everything I do.
Certainly my tongue does not frame a word
without you, O LORD, being thoroughly aware of it.
You squeeze me in from behind and in front;
you place your hand on me.
Your eyes saw me when I was inside the womb. (Psalm 139:2-5, 16, NET)
In sum, God sees us. As the Hebrew Scriptures affirm, this is God’s character. Occurring many years prior to David writing the above Psalm, a runaway, foreign slave named Hagar encounters God in the desert. As a response to God’s act of ministry to her, she names Yahweh “the God who sees me” (Gen 16).
In the Christian Scriptures, Jesus shares this characteristic since Christians hold that Jesus is fully God and fully human. Luke’s Gospel tells the story of a tax collector named Zacchaeus. Since he is a man of small stature, he climbs a tree to see Jesus as Jesus passes by him. However, Jesus looks up, sees Zacchaeus, and announces that he is joining Zacchaeus at his house that day. This encounter transforms Zacchaeus to become a man who gives to the poor (Luke 19). Could also it be that being seen is a reason that the prostitutes and other tax collectors—that is, sinners—sought to be with Jesus?
People around the world celebrate Jesus’s birth during the Christmas season while Jesus the Christ, the Creator who holds all things, arrives on our planet with very little fanfare. One could say that he is almost unseen. He grows in the womb of Mary, who more than likely is an ill-experienced teenager having her first child. There is no gender reveal party. Jesus the King is not born into a family of wealth and status but a poor family. While angels proclaim his birth with much splendor, the audience who hears the angels’ message is not the shakers and movers of society but shepherds who are the shakers and movers of flocks of sheep. Besides the shepherds, few saw and knew of Jesus’s arrival. Thus, it may be more appropriate to say that it is God who saw the shepherds, informing them of the news that Jesus was born. Although Jesus’s birth is now celebrated around the world, it made an underwhelming impact on the earth that particular day.
Despite his mostly unseen entrance into the world, some may call Jesus the greatest influencer in all of history; however, he did not follow the rules of influence but of humility. When the devil offered the opportunity for accolades and praise by all the kingdoms of the world (talk about becoming a world-class influencer!), Jesus said no (Luke 4:5-7). Jesus’s own brothers, who did not believe in him, advised him to attend the Feast of Tabernacles if he is to make a better reputation for himself and show himself to the whole world (John 7:3-5). But again, Jesus resists.
Jesus’s interest was not for his own glory. Philippians 2 informs us that Jesus gave that up and made himself nothing by becoming human. This very act of becoming human is what informs us that we are seen by God. When God became human, we realized that “God sees me.” When God became nothing, we join David, Hagar, and Zacchaeus in knowing that we are seen by God.
When Jesus became human, instead of grasping to his deity, he communicated to humanity, “I see you,” thereby declaring our worth.
There is no question that opportunities to be seen abound in our culture. Anybody who is a nobody can become a somebody who is seen simply by selecting from any number of the available digital platforms from Facebook to Substack. By using such platforms, we scramble for a thumbs up, a laugh, a subscriber, or raves in order to be seen.
We simply want someone out there, amidst the eight billion plus people on the planet, to notice us.
But my invitation this Christmas is to join Christ’s ministry of seeing. May we say with Jesus to others, “I see you,” surrendering in that moment our need to say, “Look at me.” This may involve sending a card via snail mail. It could be in our sending a thoughtful text of gratitude. Seeing others may include buying someone flowers or letting someone know that you prayed for them today.
This Christmas, as we remember perhaps the greatest influencer who made himself nothing, may we surrender our need to be seen in order to see the other.
As the Apostle Paul writes:
in humility value others above yourselves, not looking to your own interests but each of you to the interests of the others. In your relationships with one another, have the same mindset as Christ Jesus:
Who, being in very nature God,
did not consider equality with God something to be used to his own advantage;
rather, he made himself nothing. (Phil 2:3c-7, NIV)