By Gonny 
At first glance, “God sees everything” sounds like a comforting idea. If God is Love, what could be wrong with Him seeing everything? Yet many people have not experienced that sentence as a source of comfort, but rather as a kind of cosmic surveillance camera that is switched on day and night.
The fear usually does not arise because God sees everything, but because we think there is something wrong with us if He were to see everything.
A small child learns very early that some things are “good” and other things are “bad.” When shame is added to that, the idea begins to grow: “If someone really knew what I think, feel, or do, they would reject me.” Then God is presented as Someone who literally sees everything. Before long, that sentence gets translated into: “God knows what I did wrong.”
The funny thing is that a child is usually not afraid that God sees when they have been kind, helped a little bird, or given their grandmother a hug. No, the fear appears precisely in those places where guilt and shame are hiding. The problem is not the seeing itself, but the assumed judgment that would follow.
From the perspective of A Course in Miracles, this is viewed even more radically. There, God is not a judge keeping track of our mistakes. God knows only His perfect Son. The idea that God is constantly counting our missteps belongs, according to the Course, to the thought system of the ego. The ego first invents guilt and then imagines a God who would be angry about that guilt.
It is actually a bit like a child who has secretly taken a cookie from the cookie jar and then believes that his mother will never love him again. The mother may indeed notice that a cookie is missing, but her love for the child has not diminished by even a gram. The child is suffering mainly from his own sense of guilt.
Perhaps there is a beautiful reversal hidden in this. Suppose God really does see everything. Then He sees not only the stolen candy, the first kiss behind the tree, or the little lies. He also sees every tear that nobody else saw, every fear that remained hidden, every attempt to love, every act of kindness, every time you got back up after you had fallen.
And if God truly is Love, then He sees all of that without judgment.
Perhaps the question is therefore not, “Why are we afraid that God sees everything?” But rather, “Why are we afraid of being completely seen?”
Because being completely seen also means that nothing has to remain hidden. And that is terrifying for the ego, but for the heart it may be the greatest liberation there is.
A bit like that first kiss behind the tree. The tension was never really in the kiss itself, but in the thought that someone might see it. 
With love and light,
G.