I was driving onto a high school campus this morning, and had the “joy” of waiting behind a long signal. It was one of those moments where I was stuck behind the wheel (I had already been driving through over a half hour of traffic, hadn’t had my coffee yet, and had no time to stop at a coffeehouse) and found myself having to choose between getting irritated at my lack of motion, or opting to just sit and observe.
I chose the latter.
And it was interesting, this moment of observation. I looked, and saw a bunch of teenagers…hiding.
Not hiding behind the bushes, or behind parked cars, mind you—just hiding.
Hiding behind their iPods.
Hiding behind the particular brand name they had on.
Hiding behind the façade of toughness, or popularity, or the number of text messages they received as they crossed the street.
I felt compassion. We were all teenagers once (some of us still may be), and we all know the feeling of insecurity that comes from not knowing our identity. It is an awful discomfort, one that feels like every eye in the world is fixed on us, judging us, yet at the same time feeling the acute notion that no one notices us.
Kids play the friendly game of hide and seek—some unfortunate soul has to count to ten (or thirty or fifty depending on the whims of the rule-makers) while the other kids go and try to hide. They search far and wide for the best possible place to blend in, to not be noticed. They sometimes go to great lengths, bringing themselves to the point of physical exhaustion as they frantically search for “The Spot”. And if it works (i.e. they don’t get discovered) then they go right back to the same spot again and again, as long as success would have it.
It is a wonderful kids’ game.
It’s fun, you get to run around, seek out the best possible hiding place, and get prepared for adult life all at the same time!
Which is exactly the problem—we’re still playing the game. It hasn’t changed; it’s just that the rules are just a bit more sophisticated.
How many of us still find ourselves playing hide and seek—hiding behind our boats, our SUV’s, our new clothes, or our big homes? Perhaps we find ourselves hiding behind our family name, or our spouse, or our jobs.
Whatever it is, everybody hides.
The game hasn’t changed; the rules are just a bit more sophisticated.
And the great part about the adult version of hide and seek is, we find some really great places to hide. I mean—these places are so subtle, sometimes we don’t even know we’re hiding. But we are…
And because these places are so good, so well thought out, we don’t get discovered. Perhaps ever.
Were we ever that one in the game as a kid? You know, where our hiding place was so good that two, maybe even three games went by, and we still hadn’t moved from our place? It was so good that nobody found us?
How did that feel?
Were we a bit lonely, a bit afraid? Did we feel like maybe our friends left us and moved on to another activity? Did we leave our hiding place in search of another, more noticeable place? Not really hoping to be found, but to at least observe the action from a distance?
As adults, we have mastered this art.
We have become so good at keeping our space, making sure that we repel the feelings of loneliness, while at the same time staying just close enough to be…distant.
This is a trait we have learned from Adam… We hide from God, we hide from others. Heck—we even hide from ourselves most of the time.
Why? I think it’s because we’re afraid. Afraid of being found out, afraid of others seeing the real “us”.
I think we’re even more afraid of the real “us” than just about anybody else. For if we were to see ourselves the way God does, it would place such a burden of glory, of heavenly responsibility, that we would prefer to stay ignorant of the fact. And most of us do.
But remember the childhood game? We are sometimes prompted to move a bit—away from our highly strategic places of hiding, and a little bit closer to the action again, to feel like we’re a part of it without really having to engage. It is extremely convenient.
Now, when we were playing the game as children, and we moved from our lonely place in an effort to see more of what was going on, didn’t we find that in doing so, we found ourselves invariably moving to a more visible location?
And didn’t we find that we would eventually get caught once this happened?
We were met with an awkward mix of shame and relief at being found. It was such an infringement to be discovered, and yet, it was also something so affirming. For were it not so, we would never have moved from our original location in the first place.
We were found by the seeker, and then were met with the responsibility of doing the seeking ourselves.
Our role changed from the one avoiding, to the one looking.
And there was something so dignifying about being the one seeking, wasn’t there? Even though we played it off like we would rather be hiding, didn’t we feel inside that we now had a more significant role to play? That our actions would have impact in the lives of others?
Therein lies the hidden joy of being discovered…
And the beautiful thing about our adult lives is, that although we hide, we sometimes get fortunate enough to find ourselves in that desperate situation where we have to get out. We have to move, to change position—to risk greater exposure for our own survival.
And when we get found by the Seeker, the One who reveals all secrets, all hiding places, we find this mixed feeling of shame coupled with exhilaration—something in us feels so good to be discovered…
And once found, we then have the role of seeking for others, delivering them from their hiding places, for the sake of their souls, for the sake of their survival, for the sake of their joy and affirmation.
For we all hide.
But may we learn to be found, and in that discovery, may we turn from hiders to seekers—with eyes open and heads up, drawing out the secrets, bringing light to the darker places, inviting the people dwelling among the shadows into the richness of full, utter, Life.
For our very souls (and humanity itself) depend on it…
