A lesson in hiddenness

It’s nest-building season. Every manner of bird is searching the area for soft twigs, grasses, and string. One has even decided to build its home in the wreath on our front door. Squirrels, chipmunks, and the neighborhood red shouldered hawk are busily making their secret spots in places hopefully undisturbed. And, right near my fire pit under the gangly bows of a juniper bush is hidden a tiny nest of baby rabbits. Little tufts of fur mark their hiding place, but if you don’t know what to look for, you’d never see it. 

They’re so cute with twitching ears and noses, all balled together. Jada has chased their zigzagging parents all over the yard, but they are easily out of her reach. She’s recently noticed their scent as she daily patrols her domain. Whenever she trots near that little bundle of life with nose to the ground, we call out to distract her attention. We want to give those little balls of fluff all the time they need to grow, knowing they’ll soon outrun Jada just like their parents. Seems like a dangerous place to raise a family. But it won’t be for long, and they remain hidden.

Have you had a season where God seems hidden? Where your prayers seem unanswered or unheard? If you have, you know how isolating and lonely that can feel. It’s hard not to live confused and fatigued in such times, when we know God is a good and compassionate Father. It’s in the hidden times that we learn to trust. It’s as if He says to us, “You be in charge of the trusting, and I’ll be in charge of the understanding.” That’s the way through it, even when its feels like He isn’t there. Truly, He’s closer than we think, He hasn’t forgotten us. As we keep trusting Him, He keeps developing confidence in our inner being. We may not feel so much in the hidden place, but it’s forming. 

This past week at church, a gentleman stood and gave testimony, speaking of the prayer in which he and his wife had been trusting. For thirty years, God had seemed hidden to them as they prayed for the salvation of their son. Sharing this with a small group of men one day, they joined with him in prayer. 

A week later, the impossible happened. He received a text from his son, which said something like, “God visited me in the person of Brenda.” His son works as a librarian and a woman named Brenda came in looking for a Bible. She explained that she’d been ten years clean from alcohol but had recently fallen off the wagon and was planning on going to an AA meeting that night, but just knew that she couldn’t make without Jesus, and wanted a Bible. Something about her admission struck him deeply, even more when she said, “Has Jesus saved you?” In that moment he felt himself going to pieces emotionally on the inside. “Um, I don’t really know,” he said. 

The library did not have an available copy, so he quickly directed her to a church down the street; surely, they would have a Bible for her. He then retreated to a back room to compose himself. What is going on? he thought. While alone in the room, the overwhelming presence of God weighed heavily on him, actually pressing him to his knees, and there in the breakroom of a library in northern Wisconsin he gave his life profoundly to the Lord Jesus. Can you imagine a parent’s excitement on the phone that evening, having finally received proof God that had been listening? The very first day the prayer left their lips, the Lord heard it and now they were able to hear how it was answered so many years later. That’s the hope, but, when in a season of hiddenness, it feels like you’re out there all alone in enemy territory.

You be in charge of the trusting and let God be in charge of understanding. That’s one of the lessons of a hidden season, and so necessary for a life of prayer to grow. It’s not promised that we’ll understand all things in the days of our hiddenness, ours is but to trust and pray.

It’s going to be fun watching those little rabbits emerge. They have no idea into what hazards they have been born; they have no idea that they’ve been hidden in plain sight. They have no idea that a dog with killer instincts senses their presence. They also have no idea that we see them, too, and enjoy watching out over their welfare. 

If you feel isolated, hidden and alone, let me encourage you to simply trust. His eyes are on you, and his protection is over you.