If They Don’t See You, Are You Still Enough?

I still remember the moment the sentence dropped between us, sharp as broken glass:

“I used to think you were smart.”

The words were not shouted. But they were intentional—sharp, deliberately cruel, and perfectly aimed. She knew they would wound, and they did. They detonated inside me. In that split second I felt a dangerous cocktail of agony—anger, shame, and the frantic urge to prove myself. All the IQ scores, the solved problems, the achievements, the “fix-anything” moments I had banked as evidence of worth suddenly felt invisible.

For years I have known—at least in theory—that my intellect is not the sum of me. I have preached it to others: Our gifts are tools, not identities. But when someone who knows me well dismisses that gift, the old reflex flares: See me. Affirm me. Tell me I am not ordinary.

Why does it wound so deeply? Because it doesn’t happen just once. The dismissals pile up—the shrugged-off suggestions, the sarcastic jabs, the outright statements like “you’re not special” or “you don’t know anything everyone else doesn’t know.” Over time, the repetition reinforces a lie: that your voice doesn’t matter. That what’s obvious to you must not be valuable if no one listens.

Because brilliance, like any admired trait, can become a fragile house where we store our value. When that house is shaken, everything rattles. In my case, being “the smart one” wasn’t just a trait—it felt like the only thing about me that mattered. It was, I believed, the one thing I had to offer the world. If others didn’t want or acknowledge that, then I was nothing. Remove that, and the whole house collapsed. The results of my IQ tests and the yearly standardized tests were all I could point to as proof that I had value. If those didn’t count—if those were dismissed—then what was left of me?

Yet the gospel tells a better story:

“Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? Yet not one of them will fall to the ground outside your Father’s care… So don’t be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows.”

Matthew 10:29–31

God’s knowledge of me is perfect and permanent; family opinions, as powerful as they feel, are weather reports—loud, often inaccurate, and constantly shifting with the wind.

The LORD searches every heart and understands every desire and every thought.

1 Chronicles 28:9

But here’s the invitation. Every time someone I love goes out of their way to diminish or belittle me, I face a choice: defend my idol or dethrone it. I can try to explain myself, defend my value, prove my intelligence, or argue internally long after the conversation ends—or I can lay all of that down and ask, Why does this still hurt so much?

In those honest moments I hear the Holy Spirit’s gentle question: “Am I enough for you, even if no one ever applauds your mind again? Even if the very people you most hoped would see your value continue to dismiss it, mock it, or tear it down?”

So here are some steps to freedom.

1. Name the sting – Write it, pray it, confess it. Hidden pain festers; exposed pain heals. But do this only for a short time. Don’t keep repeating it. Don’t feed it.
2. Remember who sees – the Word reminds me I am already fully known.

You have searched me, Lord, and You know me.

Psalm 139:1

3. Choose the quieter yes – Instead of proving myself, I can look for a way to serve. Service starves pride and feeds joy.
4. Bless the blind spot – Their failure to see me is God’s invitation to be content with being seen by Him. Instead of seeking comfort or seeking to change the situation, give Him praise. Thank Him for what He is using this to do in me.

So what does it look like to stand tall when the sting repeats? It looks like reminding yourself every single time that their dismissal is not your disqualification. It means turning to Scripture before turning to reaction, to prayer before retort. It means asking God, in the very moment your chest tightens and your words catch in your throat, to be your validation.

It looks like saying quietly, “Lord, they don’t see me—but You do. And that’s enough.”

And here’s the unexpected gift: when you stop chasing their affirmation, you also take away their power. If their approval no longer defines you, then their disapproval cannot diminish you. You stop dancing for their applause. You stop aching for scraps of kindness. Their cruelty no longer controls the temperature of your soul.

It’s not easy. But over time, these repeated exchanges become repeated surrenders. And repeated surrenders become holy strength.

When people don’t see what you know is true, it can feel like erasure. But in Christ, nothing true about you is ever lost. The applause of heaven is not for IQ points but for humble, hidden faithfulness. Extraordinary isn’t the goal. Obedience is.

May you walk through the world confident not in who sees you, but in who made you. May your mind be sharp, yes—but your peace sharper. And may the truth that God delights in you quiet every other voice.

So to the question that is the title to this post, the question “If they don’t see you, are you still enough?” I give you the answer. YES! If you are in Christ, you are enough.

And He sees you!

“Your Father, who sees what is done in secret, will reward you.”

Matthew 6:4