The Thing Beneath the ThingSample

Where We Go to Hide

When I was a kid, I loved playing hide and seek. I loved the thrill of hiding. I loved that victorious feeling of holding out until my friends gave up and never found me. I would wear that badge of honor for weeks. Ironically, I always returned to the same few spots, which probably said more about their seeking skills than my hiding.

I still find myself scoping out the best hiding spots whenever I walk into a room. My daughter, Mercy, shares a similar love for the game, but she’s much smarter than me. When Mercy was four, she created a rule for us: If the seeker can’t find the other person, they can shout, “Can I get a tweet-tweet?” The person hiding then makes a tweet-tweet sound like a little bird, giving the seeker a clue.

Regardless of who wins, wouldn’t we all much rather be the one hiding than the one whose job it is to seek out the holed-up person? This raises some interesting questions, doesn’t it?

Even at an early age, we instinctively know there’s value in being able to hide, escape, and avoid. Sure, we make a game of it, but we also make a lifestyle of it.

I’ll never forget the first time one of my kids lied to me. I knew they were lying but waited to see if they would do the right thing and tell me the truth. Nope. I was floored as I watched them craft a bold-faced fabrication, a (very) unbelievable story, to cover their tracks. I let it happen, then looked them in the eyes and said, “I am so thankful you would never lie to me. I know you understand the irreplaceable value of trust. And I’m so grateful you would never break that trust with me.” Yep, you got it. Dad guilt to the max. But it worked!

Within an hour, my child came downstairs to confess, with big tears and genuine sorrow not only for the original lie but also for the new layers of wrongdoing caused by the deceit. I imagine God operates like this with us. Not the dad-guilt part, of course, but the trust part. He doesn’t force truth or manage us as robots. Instead, he lets his children experience the struggle that comes with broken trust, the power of confession, and the heavenly beauty of being forgiven.

As we get older, the risks associated with hiding also grow—in cost and in complexity. We expend a lot of energy trying to manage our secrets and facades. Living under false pretenses and misrepresenting ourselves to our own selves and to others shuts people out. Sadly, many of us have received the message that to be loved we must keep parts of ourselves hidden, so we work to conceal those parts. 

There is a predator ready to take advantage of our inclination to hide and we eventually find ourselves caught in a deep spiral of sin and shame. King David found himself caught in a spiral of shame when he saw Bathsheba. He saw something he desired; he convinced himself that he deserved it; and he demanded it. The resulting collateral damage was a movement that started as a troubling abuse of power, led to a sexual assault, and ended with a murder.

No one traveling the road of life comes through unscathed. We all endure pain, betrayal, and disappointment—some of it self-inflicted. We may have been left behind, overlooked, and underestimated. These wounds are real, and we won’t simply “get over them.”

There is good news. On the other side of our pain awaits a life of security and confidence in the One who knows us best. We can have an intimate relationship with God. He loves us and never leaves us. 

Respond

Where are your hiding places? 

How has God shown his trustworthy and loving character regarding a hidden area of your life? 

Prayer 

Father, I trust you with all the hidden things in my life. I love you!