Seeing is Believing

“I’ll believe it when I see it with my own eyes.” Have you ever said that before? We live in a world that loves proof. If we can measure, test, scan, verify, compare, calibrate, and analyze, AND THEN play it back in slow motion, THEN we are comfortable using it.

As a Gen-X’er, I was taught the idea in middle school science that if something didn’t hold up under the scientific method, it belonged in the category of mere hypothesis.

The phrase “seeing is believing” reaches back to ideas in ancient Greek and Hellenistic culture. It stands as a cultural shorthand for a natural human instinct to trust what our senses tell us.

But that phrase, as common as it is, doesn’t mirror the way we live. Most of the decisions we make each day are rooted in trust long before our eyes confirm anything. We’re people who depend constantly on things we cannot see, cannot control, and cannot guarantee – and yet we rarely stop to think of it as “faith.”

Consider the last time you started your car and left home. Did you examine the brake lines first? Probably not. You trusted the other drivers as well as any bridges you crossed. You simply acted on unseen confidence without your eyes confirming any of these things.

That is faith.
I’m not saying *religious* faith (not yet!) but the act of faith itself.

We practice it every day.

There are realities around us that we accept every day without seeing their source. We can’t see the wind, yet we watch the trees bend at its command. We can’t see the heat, but we feel its presence on our skin. We can’t see gravity, yet none of us expect to suddenly float away into space. (Again, we know this thanks to middle school science class!)

These forces shape our lives, and though they remain invisible, their effects are unmistakable. Faith works the same way.

Biblical faith isn’t blind; it simply recognizes that sight is not the only path to certainty. We trust the invisible all the time – not because we’re gullible, but because evidence isn’t always something you can photograph. Sometimes evidence is the sway of the branches, the warmth on your face, the steady pull that anchors your feet to the ground. And sometimes evidence is the faithfulness we have always seen (Psalm 119:90; 1 Corinthians 1:9; Deuteronomy 7:9), the peace beyond understanding (Philippians 4:7; Isaiah 26:3; Perfect Peace), the quiet assurance that rises within even when circumstances refuse to line up.

Faith, then, is not a leap into darkness. It is trust grounded in what we know (Who we belong to!), even when we cannot see what is on the road ahead. Faith always expresses itself in action.

Each time we slide behind the steering wheel of a car, we simply act. We trust. (James 2:17)

If we can put our confidence in manmade systems and other people each day, how much more natural is it to place our confidence in the God who has never failed, who holds all creation together, who sustains every breath? (Proverbs 3:5-6; All Thine Heart)

The car illustration isn’t perfect as no metaphor is, but it highlights something unmistakable: faith is something we already know how to do.

The question is never, “Do I have faith?”
The real question is, “Where is my faith directed?”
But expounding on that is for another post.

At some point, all our measuring and verifying reach a limit. Sight can only carry us so far. There comes a moment when the evidence in front of us runs thin, when the path ahead is unclear, and what we know and what we feel no longer line up.

That’s where faith begins – right at the edge of what our eyes can confirm. Faith isn’t blind; it simply steps forward when sight has done all it can.

Faith grows the same way muscles do by being used. Little acts of trust today prepare us for bigger steps of trust tomorrow. Each time we lean into God rather than our own understanding, our faith strengthens, stretches, and becomes a steadier part of who we are.

A little about the growing of my faith…

This past October marked four years since I was diagnosed with stage 4 colorectal cancer that had metastasized to my lungs. A later biopsy revealed an aggressive mutated cancer gene with a life expectancy of 20–36 months for stage 4 patients. And yet here I am today!

If you know me personally, you know I try to be genuine. I don’t put on airs or pretend to be someone I’m not. (For better or worse – ha!) So let me tell you honestly: yes, this journey has held some incredibly hard days. In the beginning, I kept calling it a “season,” believing the Lord would make it short. But seasons pass…and this one has stretched into a journey. A long one.

There have been moments when I told the Lord I was just so tired. I am not afraid to die; I’m just ready to be done with the suffering. Yet at the same time, God has given me such a beautiful life, that I have joked with Him that it’s His own fault I’m not in a hurry to leave it!

And through all of it, my faith has been tested, stretched, and strengthened. I had to hand this burden to Him, because it’s simply too heavy to carry on my own (2 Corinthians 12:9). On the hardest days, I’ve learned to redirect my focus, to shift my heart attitude (Philippians 4:8; Think on These Things). God created us with emotions, and it’s okay to feel {most of} them, but He also warns us not to trust or follow them (Jeremiah 17:9). Not to abide in the heaviness. That’s why His Word points us back to truth instead of our own hearts.

If you’re wrestling in these areas or have questions, I would truly love to help if I can. Feel free to leave a comment below.

May we be people who see clearly, investigate wisely, and think deeply – but who also know when to step forward, trusting the God who has never failed us.

I feel the Lord’s leading to start writing again, so my hope is to do a series on faith. There are so many aspects of it, and this post was just an introduction. 💕