His Eyes Ever On You (Psalm 121)

“I lift my eyes up to the mountains, where does my help come from? My help comes from the LORD, the Maker of heaven and earth” (Psalm 121:1)

I’m twenty four years old when the reality of motherhood hits me hard, nursing my firstborn in a musty university basement bathroom stall. I had gathered the entirety of my baby gear to attend a Monday evening event (back in our campus ministry days) in my first attempt to return to “normalcy” post-baby (as if such a thing exists 🤣).

But after searching in vain for any semi-private place to nurse, I resort to said bathroom where I sit down on an uncovered toilet in a dimly lit stall and nurse Eden through bleeding, cracked nipples. Disappointed and disheartened, the isolation of my new life washes over me. And here’s what surfaces in the spilling of tears that night: I feel utterly unseen.

Just shy of three and a half years later, I’m rocking baby number three and wondering who in the world understands this sleepless struggle of motherhood that I’m barely surviving. And through stifled sobs I’m memorizing and reciting Psalm 121 alongside two toddlers and a newborn:

“He will not let your foot slip - he who watches over you will not slumber; indeed, he who watches over Israel will neither slumber nor sleep. The LORD watches over you - the LORD is your shade at your right hand… The LORD will keep you from all harm - he will watch over your life; the LORD will watch over your coming and going both now and forevermore” (v. 3-8).

I draw eyes on colored construction paper in an attempt to help my kids understand: He’s watching over us (see photo below). I can’t escape His eyes - five times He repeats and reminds and reveals: His eyes are on me.

And He’s not a Ring security camera or an exalted Elf on the Shelf. He’s not watching to condemn or heap guilt - He’s watching because He cares. His eyes are full of compassion. He’s always awake and always aware. Your heart, tears, sacrifices, desires, needs, fears: they are in full view. He sees you struggling and striving. Day and night, He graces your life with His gaze.

But here’s where Psalm 121 finds me: fooled at different times into thinking that more eyes on me equates to greater significance and satisfaction. That being seen is the real goal of the good life. I wrestle with invisibility in this world of images; I struggle with feeling unseen in this world of followers and screens.

These verses tilt my face towards this grace: a million eyes on me couldn’t make up for the eyes of the I Am looking at me and watching over me and seeing me - really seeing me.

Sometimes He hides us intentionally: to heal us, to reveal things to us, to bring us to new heights of wholeness and holiness. He hides us and He holds us - He IS our hiding place (Psalm 32:7). He sees in the secret place as much as on the stage. The public and private have no bearing on His awareness.

And because He’s looking, we can raise our eyes to meet His gaze and we can ask for His help.

“I lift my eyes up to the mountains - where does my help come from? My help comes from the LORD, the Maker of heaven and earth” (Psalm 121:1)

I’m so often looking elsewhere for help: a screen. A human being. A break. An escape. I’m looking in all the wrong places - down here, too low - until in a moment of desperation, I finally look up to find His eyes. The Truth? He has been there all along - seeing me, searching me, offering Himself as Savior and Sustainer and Satisfier of all needs. He’s been holding out heavenly help while I’ve been scrounging around on the ground, making do with mud pies.

I need to practice until it’s second nature: averting my gaze from this mortal mire, lifting my eyes up higher.

I’m currently on the brink of thirty. If you’re wondering, I’m still spending way too much time in bathrooms these days between bath time and the wiping up of a whole slew of bodily fluids. 😂 And I’ve got these three little ones vying for my eyes: “Mom, watch me!” “Mama, look!” They’re desperate for my attention - for someone to see them, to really, truly see them. “Did you see that, Mom?”

And aren’t they just the same as me?

I smile at them: “I’m watching you! I see you!” And I know He is saying the same thing to me. I may be hidden from the world, but I am held and helped by God. I’m not unseen; I’m hidden in plain sight of the One whose eyes matter most.