The Art of Noticing

I came across the phrase “the art of noticing” recently while reading a post by one of my favorite blogger friends, and that phrase stuck with me throughout the day. (Thanks, Barb!)

Noticing.

It’s such a gentle word. There is something warm about it. To notice someone is to pause long enough to really see them—to recognize their presence, their effort, their weariness, their kindness, perhaps even something they never put into words.

Then, for some reason, I started thinking about the opposite.

Overlooked. Passed over. Ignored. Disregarded.

I had never really thought about how harsh those words sound until I placed them beside “noticed.” They almost hurt a little, don’t they? Because every one of them describes someone or something that was there all along—just not seen.

And that thought stayed with me.

I think the people most vulnerable to being overlooked are sometimes the people closest to us.

Not intentionally. Familiarity simply has a way of making extraordinary things feel ordinary.

We notice when a stranger does something thoughtful, yet barely register the hundred quiet things someone we love does every week. We thank people who serve us briefly while forgetting to thank the person who has been faithfully showing up for years. We can know someone so well that we stop looking closely.

And then I wondered how often I do that with Jesus.

His mercies greet me every morning. His Word is within reach. His presence has carried me through days I once wondered how I would survive. He has forgiven, sustained, corrected, comforted, protected, and patiently remained. Yet precisely because He is always faithful, His faithfulness can become familiar.

That thought troubles me a little.

John the Baptist once saw Jesus approaching and said, “Behold the Lamb of God, which taketh away the sin of the world” (John 1:29).

Behold.

Not glance. Not merely acknowledge. Behold Him.

There are times when I need to stop asking Christ for the next thing long enough to notice what is already before me—to behold who He is, remember what He has done, and recognize mercies that have become so woven into my everyday life that I hardly see them anymore.

The art of noticing begins there.

Look again at the people God has placed close to you. Notice the familiar kindness and the ordinary faithfulness. Say thank you. Listen a little longer. Really see the person who has been there all along.

And above everything else, behold Christ.

I never want the One who means the most to me to become so familiar that I stop noticing Him.

If this Fireside Chat warmed your spirit and sparked fresh resolve to live what you believe, fan that flame with Scripture—“Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly” (Colossians 3:16). Pull a little closer to the Light, and carry it into the week ahead.

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