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The Lie Behind “When God Looks at You, He Sees Jesus”

The Lie Behind “When God Looks at You, He Sees Jesus”

Last updated on: January 21, 2026 at 3:27 am by Gregory T. Smith

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The Lie Behind “When God Looks at You, He Sees Jesus” 2026-01-17T14:59:20-08:00 Gregory T. Smith

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The church said God loves me because I’m “in Christ,” and when God looks at me, He sees Jesus. That idea does more harm than good.

Do you see yourself as inherently sinful or intrinsically good? (Image by Tehzeeb Kazmi from Pixabay)

I believed that lie so much that when I was a pastor, I preached it. I even developed a neat illustration where I took an ugly-looking white rock covered with cracks and flaws and said, “The white represents your purity (vaguely racist, much?) and the cracks and flaws represent your sin.” Then I’d slip the stone into a red drawstring bag and say, “The red represents the blood of Jesus. When you are in Christ, you’re still there, but God doesn’t see you anymore—God only sees His son’s blood, shed for you.”

It was meant to be comforting, to make you feel safe, covered, and accepted because of Christ. But the hidden message I received and then transmitted: “The real you is too flawed to look at. God can only stand to look at you if He looks at something else instead.”

That’s bad psychology and bad theology at the same time.

What if the truth about how God sees you is far better than that?

Original Sin vs Original Blessing

Christian theology has often started from one of two foundations: Original Sin and Original Blessing.

Roman Catholicism has often embraced the doctrine of Original Sin, but along with Lutheranism and Methodism it moderates this idea without embracing the idea of total depravity. The traditions that focus the most on Original Sin are the Reformed/Calvinist traditions and conservative Evangelicalism.

However, the Eastern Orthodox Church, Celtic Christianity, the Episcopal/Anglican Church, the United Church of Christ, Quakers, and Unitarian Universalists lean more toward Original Blessing.

What are these beliefs—and why do they matter?

Original Sin

This is the idea that because of Adam’s original sin in the garden, every human being was born guilty. A famous rhyme from the New England primer trained children to believe, “In Adam’s fall we sinned all.”

You hear the message of Original Sin echoed in verses like:

Romans 5:12**—**Therefore, just as sin came into the world through one man, and death came through sin, and so death spread to all because all have sinned.
Psalm 51:5—Indeed, I was born guilty, a sinner when my mother conceived me.

Taken a certain way, these verses make a person believe that they are fundamentally broken. Sin is the essence of who they are—and God can’t stand to look at sin.

Original Blessing

This is the idea that God created humanity in holiness, as bearers of the divine image, and that this is our true state of being. You hear this in verses like:

Genesis 1:27— So God created humans in His image, in the image of God He created them; male and female He created them.
Psalm 139:14— “I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made.”

This story tells you something very different. Before you ever did anything right or wrong, you were beloved of God. At your core, you look like your Creator.

To be honest, both sets of scriptures are in the Bible. The question is this: Which story becomes the foundation for your belief? Do you see yourself as inherently sinful, or intrinsically good?

“Remember Who You Are!”

I’ve shared before that when I was a kid, my mom had a ritual. She’d pray with my brother and me before we left for school, then stand at the door as we walked to the bus. And then, loud enough for the neighborhood kids to hear, she’d shout, “Take God with you—and remember who you are!”

At the time, it was embarrassing. Now, it is foundational to my faith. Mom wasn’t saying, “Remember, you’re a miserable worm that God tolerates because of Jesus.” She didn’t train us to believe that we were unworthy recipients of grace—instead, she taught us that God redeems us because we are infinitely beloved and precious to our loving divine Parent. She believed this so much that she wanted to remind us of it every day. “Remember you’re loved. Remember to carry God’s image with you. Remember you have worth, dignity, and purpose.” Without using the theological language, Mom was quietly raising us in Original Blessing, not Original Sin.

But somehow, the Church squeezed that blessing out of me—for a time. You know how some Christians say, “Keep your kids away from the world, because it speaks louder than their faithful upbringing”? Well, after watching a couple of generations rise up in the Church, I’d say it differently—Be careful what you allow the Church to teach your kids, because it just might unteach them everything you’re trying to instill. That’s what happened to me—for a time. And it took me a while to remember who I was.

Christ in You

Scripture does say that we are “in Christ.” But it also insists that Christ is in us. And that second truth completely reverses the rock-in-the-bag illustration.

In 2 Corinthians 4:7, Paul writes, “We have this treasure in jars of clay”—meaning that we carry the treasure of Christ inside us. We’re not velvety bags with cracked insides. If anything, we’re the opposite—we may be fragile on the outside, but on the inside we’ve got Christ. And this doesn’t mean that God only sees the treasure and ignores the jar. What it means is that the presence of Christ doesn’t erase us—it dignifies us.

If you have a cracked pot holding a light, then the light isn’t hidden inside the pot. The flaws don’t disappear—quite the opposite. Instead, the light shines through the cracks, illuminating them and beautifying their fragility.

This is what the author of Colossians meant by “Christ in you, the hope of glory.” It’s not even a frail hope, like “With Christ in me, I might get to heaven.” Instead, it means that Christ in us is the hope that displays God’s glory in us.

What This Does to Your Psyche

If you’re told—explicitly or implicitly—that you are inherently sinful and disgusting to God, here’s what happens over time:

You learn to distrust your own heart.
You develop spiritual impostor syndrome: “If God really saw me, I’d be out.”
You internalize shame as your core identity: “I am bad,” not “I did something bad.”
You may cling to Jesus more—but out of fear and self-loathing, not love.

The result of this kind of teaching isn’t holiness—it’s hopelessness. It’s religious trauma.

But imagine starting instead from a position of Original Blessing that doesn’t deny sin but makes our inherent goodness the starting point. It would teach new believers things like:

“I’m made in God’s image.”
“I am fearfully and wonderfully made.”
“Christ lives in me.”

Original Blessing doesn’t mean you walk around feeling holy all the time. You still confess your sins. You still recognize your mistakes, grow, and move on. But your position of blessedness means you don’t beat yourself up over your failures. You use them as learning opportunities and step up to something better.

You can do this because you don’t have the baggage of believing you’re unlovable. You can do this because your divine birthright makes you strong.

Paul and Nathanael: Two Lenses on Being Seen

Let’s look at two examples from the New Testament: Paul and Nathanael.

Paul called himself the “chief of sinners.” This was his starting point in his self-understanding. He remembered his complicity in the killing of Christians and saw himself as fundamentally broken. Understood from a lens of Original Sin, you might say that Paul was a disaster that God had to rescue.

But God didn’t see Paul that way. God saw him as so beloved that God called him, trusted him, and sent him. It wasn’t that God couldn’t stand Paul, so God covered him with Jesus. Instead, God saw the worst that Paul could dish out and still chose to fill him with the Spirit of Christ.

Now, let’s look at Nathanael. When he approached, Jesus said, “Here is truly an Israelite in whom there is no deceit!” Do you think this means Jesus was naïve and didn’t see Nathanael’s sins? Of course, not—but this wasn’t fundamentally how Jesus saw him. Instead of letting sin be the starting point, Jesus saw blessing as the foundation.

God saw the broken pieces of Paul and pulled out the treasure that was within. God saw the goodness inherent in Nathanael and called it out explicitly. In both cases, God saw the real person—not a fake religious icon. God isn’t interested in you wearing a Jesus-mask. God wants to know you as you are.

What Does God See?

So, when God looks at you, what does God see? Sure, God sees your flaws, your wounds, your contradictions. But that’s not the essence of who you are. You are not your scars. What does God see when God looks at you?

your courage,
your tenderness,
your stubborn kindness,
your capacity for love,
your image-bearing dignity.

God doesn’t wrap you in Jesus-colored cloth to avoid looking at you. Instead, God cradles your face, looks you in the eye, and says, “Oh, there you are—I’ve been waiting to see you all day!” God weeps with you, laughs with you, and takes joy in your precious heart. Then, when it’s time to go to school, you hear the voice calling from behind you:

“Take me with you—and remember who you are!”

For related reading, check out my other articles:

General Christian

History and Religion

Family, Parenting and Religion

Challenging the Church

Spiritual Deconstruction

About Gregory T. Smith

I live in the beautiful Fraser Valley of British Columbia and work in northern Washington State as a behavioral health specialist with people experiencing homelessness and those who are overly involved in the criminal justice system. Before that, I spent over a quarter-century as lead pastor of several Virginia churches. My newspaper column, “Spirit and Truth” ran in Virginia newspapers for fifteen years. I am one of fourteen contributing authors of the Patheos/Quoir Publishing book “Sitting in the Shade of another Tree: What We Learn by Listening to Other Faiths.” I hold a degree in Religious Studies from Virginia Commonwealth University, and also studied at Baptist Theological Seminary at Richmond. My wife Christina and I have seven children between us, and we are still collecting grandchildren. You can read more about the author here.

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