The Unseen Gift: Why God "Hides"
By Toby Armstrong
In a world obsessed with visibility and certainty, God’s hiddenness feels counterintuitive. We crave clarity and immediate answers, but the Bible tells a different story—one of a God who often chooses to remain unseen, drawing us into deeper trust and dependence. This idea is captured in the theological concept of Deus Absconditus, or "the hidden God." This Latin term originated with the early church and became more prominent in the writings of Martin Luther, who used it to describe a God whose ways and purposes often transcend human understanding.
Deus Absconditus asserts that God’s essence and actions are not always apparent to us. While God is always present, He often hides Himself, inviting humanity to seek Him in deeper, less obvious ways. This concept emphasizes the mystery of God, affirming that His ways are beyond our limited grasp. It serves as a reminder that God is not a deity we can control or fully comprehend. For Luther, this hiddenness was also a way to express the difference between the God revealed in Christ—Deus Revelatus—and the unknowable aspects of God.
Elijah experienced this firsthand. In 1 Kings 19, he fled to Mount Horeb, exhausted and despairing, seeking God in dramatic displays of wind, earthquake, and fire. But God was not there. Instead, He came in a gentle whisper, a sound so subtle that Elijah had to pause and listen. This moment underscores a critical theological insight: God often meets us not in spectacle, but in stillness. It challenges us to tune our hearts to the quiet ways He works, deepening our faith in His timing and methods.
In our postmodern world, the allure of the spotlight is pervasive. Social media, celebrity culture, and the 24-hour news cycle encourage constant self-disclosure and visibility, often at the expense of authenticity and connection. Consider the tragic arc of some public figures who, in their quest for validation, overshare or manipulate their public personas, only to face burnout or backlash. The relentless chase for recognition can distort one's identity, leaving people feeling hollow despite their perceived "fame."
God’s hiddenness, by contrast, offers a different narrative. Søren Kierkegaard captures this beautifully:
"God is not like a human being who merely hugs and holds what it loves, but He hides Himself in order to make one long for Him. He wants to be loved, not admired, to be longed for, not understood."
This profound insight reveals that God’s concealment is not absence but invitation—an intentional act that compels us to pursue Him with authenticity and love, rather than settling for superficial admiration.
In a culture obsessed with visibility, the way of Deus Absconditus feels counterintuitive. Yet it offers wisdom for postmodern people navigating a world where too much self-exposure often leads to disconnection. God invites us not into the spotlight, but into the quiet and unseen spaces, where faith, longing, and love are forged in the depths of the soul.
For those of us navigating a postmodern cultural moment, God’s hiddenness can feel particularly jarring. In a society where visibility equals validation, an unseen God seems to contradict the values we are conditioned to hold. But Deus Absconditus invites us to rethink our assumptions: God’s silence or hiddenness is not a void—it is often where our deepest faith is formed. As C.S. Lewis wrote,
"God allows us to experience the low points of life in order to teach us lessons that we could learn in no other way."
God’s hiddenness also teaches patience. In a society obsessed with instant gratification, waiting for God can feel like failure. Yet, as scripture reminds us, God’s timing is perfect. The waiting seasons are often the most formative, teaching us to trust in God’s plan over our own.
God’s hiddenness isn’t about distance—it’s about drawing us closer. When we can’t see Him, He invites us to lean on His promises, to seek Him in the small and sacred moments of life. The gentle whisper still calls.
In the stillness and silence, God’s hiddenness becomes a gift—a space where faith deepens, humility grows, and intimacy flourishes. Perhaps the greatest discoveries of God’s love are found not in His dramatic revelations but in the quiet persistence of seeking Him.
What might you discover if you embraced God’s hiddenness not as absence, but as an invitation to trust and draw closer?
