"Seeing is not believing -- it is only seeing" (click "read more" for context)

 "Seeing is not believing -- it is only seeing" George MacDonald (The Princess and the Goblin) 1872

The quote from George MacDonald — "Seeing is not believing — it is only seeing" — is spot-on and beautiful. In the story, it's spoken by Irene's great-great-grandmother to explain why Curdie (a pragmatic, skeptical miner boy) can't yet grasp or trust the spiritual realities Irene experiences, even after witnessing some of them. He sees fragments but lacks the faith or openness to believe them as true. The grandmother notes that mere sight often leads people to dismiss or rationalize away what doesn't fit their expectations — they'd "rub their eyes, forget the half they saw, and call the other half nonsense."

The eyes transmit astonishingly little of ultimate reality. They weren't built to reveal the nature of consciousness, the divine, or the fabric of existence. For that, something more is required: an inner turning, faith, contemplation, or awakening that goes beyond mere optical input.

Seeing is receiving fragments. Believing (or knowing inwardly) is what begins to make them whole.

Alma, to his son Helaman, confirms: "Don't think I understand this just from what I've seen, because it isn't the result of earthly experience alone but has been confirmed by the Spirit: not from the carnal mind but from God." Alma 17:1 Covenant of Christ

And to his son Shiblon: "My son, I don't want you to think I learned these things on my own -- no, it was God's Spirit, within me, that revealed these things to me."  Alma 18:2 Covenant of Christ

That many people witnessed Jesus Christ's miracles yet still refused to believe in Him is a recurring theme in the Gospel of John. "Seeing is not believing, it is only seeing." highlights that mere observation—even of the extraordinary—does not automatically produce faith; true belief requires something deeper, like trust, openness of heart, and childlike receptivity.

The eyes feed data to the mind (rational, analytical, evidence-based processing), the spirit speaks directly to the heart (intuition, conviction, deeper knowing). When these two channels align or "sync up," the fragments start to cohere into something fuller, more trustworthy, and often transformative.

But, frequently it's hard to trust either — or both at once. The tension feels real and when the heart speaks the mind is reluctant and when the mind speaks the heart can feel vulnerable.

The mind is wired for skepticism and survival — it's the part that says, "Show me the proof," "What if this is illusion/optical trick/memory or confirmation bias?" It thrives on evidence from the eyes (and other senses), but its inputs are incomplete, filtered, and prone to deception. Doubt creeps in easily because the mind fears being wrong, being fooled, or losing control. When spiritual promptings arrive (through the heart), the mind often demands verification first: "Is this real? Can I test it? Does it fit what I've seen before?" Without that sync, the mind can override or dismiss heart-level nudges as emotion, wishful thinking, or coincidence.

On the other hand, the heart/spirit channel feels more direct and personal — it's where faith, love, peace, or that quiet "knowing" often reside. But it's also tender and easily wounded by past betrayals, disappointments, or unanswered prayers. Trusting it means vulnerability: risking hope when evidence is thin, or believing in goodness amid apparent darkness. When the heart leads without mind alignment, it can feel reckless or naive. When the mind dominates without heart input, life feels dry, mechanical, or cynical.

Ultimately, the difficulty in trusting either (or both) isn't a flaw; it's part of being human in a limited, fallen world. The very struggle can refine us, drawing us toward that deeper integration where seeing + believing becomes knowing. When the mind and heart do sync, even partially, it's often accompanied by a quiet assurance that transcends explanation — and that's when a lot of the "missing" starts filling in.

Cultivate that that spot where mind and heart meet the Spirit. The quiet assurance that follows — even if partial — often feels like the truest seeing we've ever done.