Come And See

When I was eight, almost nine, my mother took me with her to deliver some samosas to a long-time family friend. Her name? Mrs. Violet Saunders. She worked at a bank near our home, close enough to walk. I often went along on these little errands to see Aunty Violet. Her office building always seemed like a giant skyscraper, with all the glass, steel, tiles, and grown-up importance.

We visited her many times, but one visit stands out in my memory as one of my favourites. Not because she pressed a K5 note into my hand for ice cream or paraded me proudly around her office introducing me to her co-workers, which she usually did. No, this particular afternoon was special for reasons I could never have imagined as a child. A single conversation, unexpected and unplanned, shifted the trajectory of our lives.

When I replay that moment in my mind now, the image is simple: the smooth, cold handrail of the elevator at my eye-level, the soft hum as we descended, and the sound of two old friends chatting freely above me. “Naima,” Aunty Violet asked gently, “have you been going to church?” Her concern was never only about our physical well-being, but how we were doing inwardly…spiritually.

“I’ve been going,” my mother said with a tired sigh. “But I’m always disturbed.”

She explained how draining it was waking early, preparing my sister and me, catching the bus, only to barely catch a full sermon. I’d be dropped off at Sunday school, but because the program wasn’t engaging, the moment I heard the ice-cream man’s bell outside, I was gone… slipping out, unnoticed, on a mission to find her.

She always sat by the window. Always. One arm resting on the sill, cradling my sister who, without fail, would be fast asleep by the time the preacher really got going. What amazes me now is how no adult ever stopped me. No usher. No teacher. I’d just march down the centre aisle, unbothered by the thunderous voice of the pastor, scanning left and right for my mother’s face. When I’d find her, I’d squeeze past knees, handbags and coats, wiggle into her lap, and whisper the same request on behalf of every tired, sticky, sugar-craving child I’d left behind, inmates who had no will to bust out of that place like I had done. She always gave in, and we’d leave the sanctuary quietly, hand in hand. I’d get my ice cream and play outside in the sun on the monkey bars, while she sat nearby, never angry, just resigned.

That day in the elevator, Aunty Violet said, “You need a church where the children are engaged.” Then she added, “I’ve been going to this new church for a few months now. The preaching is so good, every time I’m there, I think of you. You should come this Sunday and just see if it feels right.”

My mother asked for the details and promised to come. When the elevator doors opened, we all stepped out. Aunty Violet hugged me, slid a K5 into my palm, and turned to my mom. “See you on Sunday, Naima,” she said with a smile. “Just come and see for yourself.”

“We’ll come,” my mother replied, as we walked out, my hand wrapped in hers.

That church was Miracle Life Family Church. It had just started in May 1998, and though I can’t remember the exact Sunday we visited, I believe it was early 1999. The church had grown enough by then to need space at Mulungushi Conference Centre, one hall for the adults and another nearby for the children. That place became sacred to me. My safe space. The soil where God planted me. Aunty Violet eventually moved on to another church, but her simple invitation changed everything. God used her to guide my family home, all my mother had to do was come and see.

“Nazareth!” exclaimed Nathanael. “Can anything good come from Nazareth?” “Come and see for yourself,” Philip replied. ~ John 1:46 (NLT)

Have you ever asked yourself, “Can anything good come out of this?” We all do. We measure our potential by what’s come before us, our family patterns, our past experiences, and our missteps. But maybe the better question isn’t whether something good can come from our lives, but whether we are willing to come and see when God calls us. Are you willing to trust that God might have something extraordinary waiting for you? Here’s what I’ve been reflecting on as I’ve tried to answer this question for myself lately.

God Validates Us

When we respond to God’s invitation to “come and see,” the first thing He often does is affirm us. He sees the real us, the hidden, quiet version of ourselves we don’t show anyone, and He speaks to that version. He corrects us gently in private, but then publicly calls us His. When we drop our scepticism and start to trust Him, we can hear His validating words more clearly, and as we let them wash over us, our confidence grows even when we’re not exactly sure why or what’s next.

God Changes Our Minds

God never does anything just to do it. There is always a bigger purpose. The same is true with His validation. He never speaks validation over us just for validation’s sake. He always has a deeper purpose. He speaks over us to help us see ourselves differently… more clearly. From the day we’re born, words shape us. Some are kind, some cruel, some indifferent. All of it sinks into the soil of our hearts, whether we realise it or not. But God…. God’s words come onto the scene to rewire our thinking. His words replace lies with truth as He reshapes our perspective and gently stretches what we think is possible.

God Promises Us More

God doesn’t ask for perfection. What He’s after is consistency. Faithfulness. In our stumbles, our apologies, our whispered prayers, He sees our hearts, and He calls us, not just to survive, but to thrive. God always promises more, not for show, but for purpose. He always sees more to our lives than we ever could, and He longs for us to climb into His lap so that we can see things from His perspective when we think about the grand scheme of our lives. He calls us to come and see because in Him, there is so much more for us. So much to see, so much to experience, and so much to do through Him and with Him. His promise is a life with meaning, marked by moments of surrender and splashes of joy.

God Hides Us Until It’s Time

Purpose isn’t rushed. Isn’t that a mind shift in this world we live in? God often tucks us away, not to punish us, but to prepare us. The spotlight isn’t kind, it’s hot. Whether you’re called to lead a household, a ministry, a company, or an audience of millions, you’ll feel the heat. That’s why God, in His mercy, does the sacred work in secret first. This is quiet, refining work. Think of Moses, David, Esther, and even Jesus. Before public purpose came private pruning. That’s been my journey of sacred work, God introducing me to myself, gently peeling away my ideas of worthiness and sanding off the relationships I thought were forever. No matter who we are or where we are in life, God will always stretch us before He reveals us. Have you started to recognise your sacred work?

God Establishes Us

This is where things start aligning. When we know whose we are, we begin to expect more from life and we start attracting things that match the call of God on your life, relationships, opportunities, purpose and favour. But here’s the thing: even this isn’t the final stop. God is always moving, always building, and always inviting us higher. God wants to take us from one level of glory to the next, so once He’s established you in one area of glory, right when you start to get comfortable, the entire process starts over with a gentle invitation by the Holy Spirit, “Come and see.”

Our response? I believe our response to God’s invitation is to keep asking Him, “Lord, how do You see me?” It’s a question that has had to become an integral part of my vocabulary with Him because I can never ask it enough. I’m always growing and changing, adapting to life and often going through all these motions without ever stopping to process. Because of this, at every stage, the question has steadied me and always brought me back to the truth. As a nineteen-year-old girl, as a twenty-one-year old bride, as a twenty-four year old business founder, as a twenty-seven year old mother, as a thirty-year old woman facing depression and anxiety and even now as a soon to be thirty-five year old woman walking into healing and harvest by faith, “Lord, how do you see me?”

When we follow God and ask Him this question, and many others, He reminds us who we are. We are miracles, we are His, we are chosen, we are more than our experiences and more than our worst mistakes. You, my friend, are more than anyone ever thought you would be. So, keep close to God, press into Him, keep responding to His invitations to come and see and keep asking Him the question, “Lord, how do you see me?” My prayer is that every time you do, He shows you more than you could have ever thought or imagined.