The Face We All Look For

by Ami Wickiser

Photo by Ana Tablas on Unsplash

“Mommy, wook at me! Wook what I can do!”

Her tiny, tinny voice was a squeal of delight at her newfound skill. I glanced up from my Kindle, “Ok, I’m watching!”

To an outsider, her new trick was unimpressive, merely two feet straddled across two steps, but her toddler face radiated pride. “Baby, I see you! That’s excellent!”

“Mom, watch me!” Another child swung like a monkey from bar to bar, grinning as she caught my eye.

Every few seconds, one of four childish voices called for my eyes. Amused, I watched them all, praising various feats of daring and ability. I wanted to read my book, but they needed my gaze. In the first five minutes of play, I must have heard, “Look at me!” dozens of times.

I wonder why all children innately want someone to ‘Wook at me!’

I think it’s because it is innate—a God-given quality from the Creator himself. As image bearers, we’re hard-wired to look for a face that looks back.

We All Look For Faces

“Our first instinct—‘far deeper than intention’—is to find a face. Our weak and blurry little eyes, wide open but not yet trained to see, search for something, someone, with which to bond. . . . I wonder if, like newborn children we go through our entire lives looking for a face, longing for a particular gaze that calms and fills us, that loves us and welcomes us, that recognizes and runs to greet us . . .” (Allen Levi, Theo of Golden).

Somewhere deep in their little hearts, children know attention equals value and belonging, for we give our time and eyes to the things we value most. To a child, attention is also affection, and they long to be the objects of our affection. In moments of daring, risky play, I think they also want us to share their sheer joy. Like friends who laugh over common interests, a shared delight fuels connection.

Young children can’t tell you why they crave attention and connection, but it doesn’t take much time with them to know “Look at me!” is a universal heart cry, as sure as the sun. The younger the child, the more they request our faces unashamedly without pretense or embarrassment.

When my oldest was less than twelve hours old, he lay peacefully tucked on his tummy, skin-to-skin on my chest. I began singing “The Gospel Song,” a tune he’d heard daily while he was in the womb. On cue, he lifted his wobbly, newborn head and held it up on a neck that shouldn’t have supported it, eyes wide, gazing intently at my face! That tenacious boy held up his heavy noggin the entire time I sang, and if you need proof of my son’s genius, my husband caught the whole astonishing scene on video.

He’d heard my voice for thirty-nine weeks. Now he knew the voice had a face, and he couldn’t stop looking. It remains one of my favorite parenting memories, the two of us, fledglings, gazing at each other.

When our babies are babies, it’s as if we’re compelled to look at them. We soak in every detail of their perfect little toes, the wisps of strawberry blonde hair, the pudgy wrist rolls. We drink them in as if every feature is a flood of life-giving water.

Perhaps it’s hard-wired in parents to look and look and look also.

As we gaze at them, they know love, safety, warmth, protection, and attachment. They have found the one their hearts long for. In our faces, they find home. The two-way mirror of looking and looking back is a good gift meant to direct our hearts to God.

Parents are meant to reflect the ultimate Face, to point our children to the one who singularly satisfies. Before they can even form words or consciously understand love, their brain creates neural pathways forming their foundational understanding of a “good parent.” The way we treat them and the value we ascribe to them communicates something about God.

In a Broken World, Good Gifts Become Corrupted

Sin breaks things, and not all parents delight in their children. Not all children know love and safety from their parents. Rather than calm them, we provoke them. Rather than radiate love, our faces condemn.

As babies get older, the electronic bricks attached to our hands distract us from the connection that was once so strong. Sometimes we’re lazy parents. Ironically, though, we still want children to make us look good, to make others affirm we are indeed good parents, to reflect us rather than their Creator.

Sin also causes us to look for the wrong faces and hide from the Face that looks back. We don’t know how long Adam and Eve walked with God before they ate of the fruit, but we can’t fathom what it was like to see him and be with him face-to-face. Every day was better than the last, and in every look from God, they saw belonging, worth, joy, and delight. He looked at them, and they gazed back, knowing at the core of their very souls how beautiful he was and how satisfied they were. And all was well.

Then they stretched out their hands, convinced that something else could be better than God. As Adam took a bite, perfection shattered and shame consumed them (Gen. 3:4–7). They couldn’t bear the eyes of God gazing at them, so they hid (Gen. 3:8–9).

Like them, we naturally run from the Face that fills our every need (Isa. 53:6). While we’re still image bearers with inherent value, without Christ we’re also fractured mirrors, who neither reflect him clearly nor see him clearly (Rom. 3:1). So we look to lesser faces that will never satisfy or fill our hearts with supreme joy. We take our desires for approval, value, and belonging and turn them into things we worship. We search for meaning in likes on social media. In money. In power. In fame. In pleasure.

There’s a Face That Restores What is Broken

“And we all, with unveiled face, beholding the glory of the Lord, are being transformed into the same image from one degree of glory to another. For this comes from the Lord who is the Spirit” (2 Cor. 3:18).

A veil obscures or blinds. Without Christ, our hearts are darkened. We don’t seek him unless he has first sought us (Tozer, The Pursuit of God). So take heart, any longing you have to know the true God comes from God himself. It’s he who lifts the veil and transfers us from darkness to light (Col. 1:13–14). It’s he who turns his face toward us and restores our desire to look upon the Face we mirror.

Believers, when we gaze on the person and work of Christ, we find the one our souls long for. We find home. Because of Christ’s redemptive work, we who were once blind now see with open eyes and can behold his beauty.

As we behold him through the Word, we see his glory, his radiance, and his magnificence. Looking in the face of our Savior transforms us from fractured mirrors to whole, clean reflections.

Beholding carries connotations of lingering, looking intently, and studying. Like one who stands for hours in front of a masterpiece, to gaze upon Christ is to learn to know him intimately.

The psalmist likens gazing to seeking him earnestly, to being thirsty for him as one desperate for water in a land of drought. He dwells on his power and glory. He remembers his faithfulness. He recalls provision and help (Ps. 63).

Beholding is active. It’s speaking back to him all the radiant aspects of himself. Over time, as we continue to behold him, he transforms us into everything he has already declared us to be.

Jesus Restores the Two-Way Mirror of Looking and Looking Back

Conversely, the more we gaze at him, the more he satisfies our intrinsic need for a face. By dwelling on him, we, in turn, find joy, rest, peace, value, and belonging. He’s the face that looks back, the one who fully knows us but also fully loves us (Keller, The Meaning of Marriage).

He looks at us, and we look at him. As we find our worth, belonging, and approval in him, the less we seek it elsewhere. For we cannot dwell on the person and work of Christ and not be satisfied.

This is the only relationship that perfectly fulfills our innate desire to see and be seen. The parent-child relationship at its best is but a reflection meant to point us to the one who runs after us, welcomes us, and greets us with arms wide open.

Parents, when we value our children with our time and eyes, we’re teaching them about Jesus and giving them a glimpse of what God is like. And when your children seek your eyes, remember you’re reflecting the Face that looks back.

Believers, gaze on him because he gazes at you, and says, “I see you! That’s excellent!”

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Ami Atkins Wickiser was widowed at age 30 but has since married her second great love, David. She is currently a stay-at-home, homeschooling mom to four spicy children. She and her family live in Illinois and worship at Redeemer Church of Waterloo. She also has previous experience as a developmental therapist and teacher. She is passionate about women’s ministry and helping others practically apply the gospel to suffering. Her writing has also been featured on Revive Our Hearts, The Gospel Coalition, Risen Motherhood, Gospel Centered Woman, and Intentional By Grace. Ami loves reading and ice cream. You can find her at whenmercyfoundme.com or on Substack.