I can recall clearly going through international safety measures while preparing to live a season of my life on foreign soil. Locked in a room. Darkness. Not knowing a soul that pressed into my shoulders on both sides.
We were taught how to answer questions, how to look confident in uncertainty. We were taught how to hide. Hiding may not at all be my strong suit. I can’t hide my feelings or emotions or facial expressions. If forced to hide any of those for long periods of time, when allowed to be unleashed – my mother could attest to the seemingly unpleasant and tears and frustration. Therefore, instead of hiding, I became a pro at running. Running away from God. Running ahead of God.
Just within the last few years, the understanding of grace hit me like a ton of frozen potatoes through a homemade gun. Letting grace settle deeply upon me meant that running would have to cease. And being willing to take what was given, through Christ’s sovereignty, meant settling in His presence…
maybe even hiding in Him!
There was even a part of this life that sounded very convincing. That I must secure a measure of spiritual-creative-smartness to receive grace in its fullness. Could I have it backwards in measuring works more substantial than faith? Ummmmmmm…. ABSOLUTELY!
The distaste for hiding emerges from a fear or being stuck. There was a feeling parts of my free-spirit-wild-gypsy internal would be buried and covered up forever. My dreams would be buried. My hopes would be buried. My expectations would be buried. Hiding somewhere meant that the feeling of purposed would be buried. Hiding meant distrust and uncertainty. I didn’t want my parents from the beginning of time’s fig leaves. I preferred to run to the next garden.
But it was behind the fig leaves that led to the certainty that no one could possibly know the peace of God without first knowing the depths of His hiding place.
This I have found to be ever true… In running and in learning to hide——- everything changes, yet He changes not. Up from the ruins we rise from under the beauty of His covering. His heart will forever be the same. He will always ask, “Adam, where are you?” Even in their hiding, He searched them out. Even in my rampant running, He beckoned, “when are you coming home?”
We are never more sane or more right where we need to be until our heart bends to His will. Until we acknowledge, notice, and give a heart full of heed to the majesty of God and His titles. There is no other place to hide except in the depths of His presence. He does all things well, including drawing us in to the depths of who He is.
Grace is call to come to a halt. Out of dwelling in our filth, out of excusing our scars, out of crutching on our shame. Grace is a call to wake up from death.
It might be in the hiding places closest to God – the skinny, narrow spaces between walls of our waiting here and the hope of our eternal – that are much more full than they seem. The loaves we are offered here are able to fill, but not to the overflow of grace.
For fullness is consued entirely in hiding in Him.
So dig, baby, dig… Into Him and fall.
He is the only place worth hiding. He is rescuer still!