A Personal Reflection on Divine Hiddenness
During a period of Eucharistic Adoration, I witnessed something interesting that sparked this reflection. As sunlight streamed through a stained glass window containing small round glass beads, it cast a spectrum of vibrant colours across the painted wall near the tabernacle. This simple yet insightful physical phenomenon—white light revealing its hidden spectrum under the right conditions—became a meditation on how God reveals Himself to those who approach with the proper disposition of heart and mind.
The Mystery of Divine Hiddenness
Throughout human history, one of the most profound spiritual mysteries has been God’s apparent hiddenness. The prophet Isaiah captured this sentiment perfectly when he wrote, “Truly, you are a God who hides himself, O God of Israel, the Saviour” (Isaiah 45:15). This divine pattern of concealment appears not as an absence, but rather as an intentional aspect of God’s relationship with humanity, inviting us into a deeper form of spiritual perception.
The Biblical Pattern of Hidden Revelation
The scriptures are rich with examples of God’s pattern of revealing Himself while maintaining an element of mystery. When Moses asked to see God’s glory, he was only permitted to see God’s back, as no one could see His face and live (Exodus 33:18-23). This physical limitation points to a deeper spiritual truth: in our current state, we can only perceive God partially and indirectly. Similarly, when Elijah sought God’s presence, he found it not in the dramatic displays of wind, earthquake, or fire, but in the “still small voice” or “gentle whisper” (1 Kings 19:11-13).
This pattern of divine hiddenness appears consistently throughout scripture, taking various forms that each reveal different aspects of God’s nature. Consider Abraham’s test of faith, where God’s purpose remained hidden until the final moment. Or Joseph in Egypt, where God’s providence worked through seemingly random events, only becoming clear in retrospect. The Psalms frequently wrestle with God’s apparent absence—“Why do you hide your face?” (Psalm 44:24)—while simultaneously affirming His constant presence.
The prophetic tradition itself embodies this dynamic of hiddenness and revelation. Prophets often delivered messages through parables and symbolic actions, requiring spiritual discernment to understand. Isaiah’s prophecies of the Messiah, for instance, were clear enough to create expectation but mysterious enough that many missed their fulfilment in Christ. This pattern suggests that God’s hiddenness isn’t meant to obscure truth entirely, but to invite deeper engagement and understanding.
Consider too the role of the Temple veil, symbolically separating humanity from God’s presence. Its tearing at Christ’s crucifixion (Matthew 27:51) dramatically illustrated a new way of accessing God—yet even this more direct access still requires faith rather than sight.
Natural Signs of Hidden Reality
Nature offers parallels to spiritual truth, beginning with the simplest of phenomena. Just as white light contains within itself an entire spectrum of colours, revealed only under specific conditions, God’s presence permeates reality but often requires the right disposition—faith, humility, and grace—to perceive. This physical example points to a deeper spiritual reality: what appears simple or ordinary on the surface often contains hidden depths of beauty and meaning.
The physical universe abounds with invisible forces that shape our world. Gravity, magnetism, and electromagnetism govern countless interactions, yet remain invisible to direct observation. We see only their effects, never the forces themselves. Perhaps most striking is dark matter, which makes up roughly 85% of the universe’s mass. Though invisible to our most sophisticated instruments, its gravitational effects are essential for holding galaxies together. How fitting that most of the universe’s substance remains hidden from direct observation!
These visible signs of invisible realities echo Paul’s words in Romans 1:20:
For since the creation of the world God’s invisible qualities—his eternal power and divine nature—have been clearly seen, being understood from what has been made, so that people are without excuse.
The quantum realm provides even more striking illustrations of hidden reality. Consider quantum entanglement, where particles become so deeply connected that changing one instantaneously affects the other, regardless of the distance between them. Even Einstein found this phenomenon so remarkable he called it “spooky action at a distance.” When two particles become entangled, they essentially share a single quantum state—if one particle spins up, its partner must spin down, even if they’re on opposite sides of the universe. This natural phenomenon, while mind-bending, pales in comparison to supernatural realities like the Eucharist, where bread and wine become Christ’s Body and Blood while retaining their physical appearances.
Mathematics provides yet another window into unseen reality. Numbers and mathematical relationships exist in an abstract realm beyond physical reality, yet they describe and predict physical phenomena with astonishing precision. Consider how mathematical equations predicted the existence of gravitational waves decades before we could detect them, or how the mathematical concept of imaginary numbers, once thought purely abstract, proved essential for describing quantum mechanics. These examples demonstrate how the most fundamental truths about our universe often transcend direct physical observation.
The emergence of complex systems from simple rules offers another striking parallel to divine action. The intricate patterns of snowflakes emerge from basic principles of molecular behaviour. The complex beauty of fractals arises from simple mathematical iterations. These examples suggest that what appears simple on the surface may contain infinite depth and complexity—much like the spiritual life itself.
Even life itself testifies to the reality of the unseen. The genetic code hidden within every cell orchestrates the development and function of living things. The intricate chemical signals that coordinate our bodies operate beneath our awareness. Most notable of all, consciousness itself—perhaps the most fundamental aspect of our experienced reality—cannot be directly observed or measured, yet its reality is undeniable. Each of these examples points to a universe where the deepest truths often lie hidden beneath the surface, waiting to be discovered by those with eyes to see.
The Poverty of Materialism
The materialist worldview, championed by thinkers like Richard Dawkins and others of the New Atheist movement, attempts to reduce all of existence to what can be observed and measured. This perspective reveals itself as remarkably shallow—like trying to understand a symphony by analysing only the air vibrations it produces, while missing entirely the beauty, emotion, and meaning conveyed through the music. It’s akin to studying a painting by cataloging the chemical composition of its pigments while remaining blind to the artistry, meaning, and beauty of the image itself.
In a recent interview with Jordan Peterson, Dawkins declared that he “cares only about facts”—a statement that unintentionally reveals the limitations of materialist thinking. This obsession with facts alone represents a peculiar form of intellectual poverty. Facts are important, certainly, but they are merely the alphabet with which we spell out meaning, the notes from which we compose the symphony of understanding. When a parent tells a child “I love you,” the factual description of sound waves moving through air molecules tells us nothing of the important reality being conveyed. When a poet writes of beauty, the chemical composition of ink on paper reveals nothing of the truth being expressed. How mundane it is to reduce the rich tapestry of human experience to mere measurable phenomena.
The internal contradictions of strict materialism become apparent when we examine how its proponents actually live. Even those who claim to embrace this philosophy find themselves unable to consistently apply it to their lives. They fall in love and insist this love is real, not merely a biochemical reaction. They pursue scientific truth with passion, implying that truth itself has value beyond its material utility. They create art, write poetry, and compose music—activities that transcend mere survival benefit. They advocate for justice and human rights, concepts that cannot be weighed on a scale or measured with instruments.
Consider how materialists like Dawkins passionately argue for the pursuit of scientific truth. Yet the very concept of truth—and the belief that pursuing it matters—transcends pure materiality. What purely material process could generate the abstract concept of truth, or create the moral imperative to seek it? The materialist’s dedication to truth unwittingly acknowledges a reality beyond the material world they claim is all that exists.
Even more telling is how materialists approach consciousness and human experience. They may argue that consciousness is merely an emergent property of physical brain processes, yet they live as if their thoughts, decisions, and experiences matter in ways that transcend their physical basis. When they argue for their positions, they assume their reasoning is guided by logic and evidence rather than merely being the deterministic outcome of physical processes. This reveals an implicit acknowledgment of mental and rational capacities that cannot be reduced to purely material explanations.
The materialist worldview faces particular difficulty explaining the universal human experiences of meaning, purpose, and moral truth. If we are purely material beings—complex arrangements of atoms following physical laws—then concepts like purpose should be recognised as mere illusions. Yet materialists, like all humans, continue to seek meaning in their lives, to pursue purposes they believe matter, and to make moral judgments they consider objectively true. They cannot help but live as if there is more to reality than matter in motion.
This disconnect between materialist philosophy and lived human experience points to a crucial truth: the material world, while real and important, is not the whole of reality. Just as the spectrum of colours exists hidden within white light, waiting to be revealed under the right conditions, so too do deeper levels of reality exist beyond what can be measured with scientific instruments. The poverty of materialism lies not in what it affirms about the physical world, but in what it denies about everything else.
Love and Meaning: The Reality of the Unseen
The most intrinsic aspects of human experience—love, meaning, justice, and purpose—exist beyond the realm of physical measurement. Jesus emphasised this when He taught that “God is spirit, and his worshipers must worship in the Spirit and in truth” (John 4:24). Our capacity to experience these intangible yet real aspects of existence points to our creation in God’s image, suggesting we are designed to perceive and interact with realities beyond the physical realm.
This reality of the unseen extends deeply into human psychology and experience. Consider how memory shapes our present experience—these invisible imprints of past events influence our current actions and feelings. Or consider how ideas, once conceived, can reshape the physical world—every human artefact began as an invisible thought or intention. These phenomena suggest we are naturally equipped to interact with non-material realities.
The universality of symbolic thinking provides another window into our capacity for engaging with unseen reality. Every human culture develops complex systems of meaning through language, art, and ritual. These symbolic systems point to our innate ability to perceive and create meaning beyond mere physical reality. That we can understand metaphor at all—grasping how one thing can represent another—suggests we’re designed to comprehend both physical and spiritual realities.
Moreover, our sense of moral truth demonstrates our connection to transcendent reality. The universal human experiences of conscience, moral obligation, and ethical reasoning point to standards that exist beyond mere cultural convention or evolutionary advantage. When we recognise something as truly good or evil, we’re engaging with moral realities that transcend physical measurement but are nonetheless real.
Christ: The Perfect Model of Hidden Divinity
The incarnation represents the ultimate expression of God’s pattern of hidden revelation. As Paul writes in Philippians 2:6-7, Christ “did not consider equality with God something to be used to his own advantage; rather, he made himself nothing by taking the very nature of a servant.” This deliberate veiling of divine glory in human form demonstrates how God chooses to be present in ways that invite relationship rather than compel submission.
This pattern of hidden divinity manifests throughout Christ’s earthly ministry. Consider how He was born not in a palace but a manger, recognised not by the religious authorities but by shepherds and foreign wise men. His early life was spent in obscurity in Nazareth—“Can anything good come from Nazareth?” (John 1:46)—suggesting that God’s greatest works often begin in seemingly insignificant places.
Even during His public ministry, Jesus consistently veiled His divine nature. He frequently told those He healed to tell no one, spoke in parables that confused many listeners, and refused to perform signs on demand. When Peter proclaimed Him as Messiah, Jesus ordered the disciples to tell no one (Matthew 16:20). This pattern suggests that divine revelation requires more than mere observation—it requires spiritual receptivity and faithfulness.
The crucifixion represents the ultimate expression of hidden divinity. At the moment of His greatest work, Christ appeared at His most powerless. Those who mocked Him to “come down from the cross” if He were truly God’s Son (Matthew 27:40) failed to recognise that His apparent weakness was actually the demonstration of divine power through self-giving love. Even after the resurrection, Christ did not appear to everyone, but only to those who had eyes to see.
The Purpose of Divine Hiddenness
God’s hiddenness serves multiple spiritual purposes. First, it preserves human free will—as Pascal observed, God provides enough light for those who desire to believe and enough shadow to maintain free choice for those who don’t. Second, it cultivates spiritual maturity by requiring us to develop faith, which Hebrews 11:1 defines as “confidence in what we hope for and assurance about what we do not see.”
God’s hiddenness serves several additional spiritual purposes beyond preserving free will. It fosters humility—if God were obviously present, we might take His presence for granted or approach Him casually rather than with appropriate reverence. The very act of seeking God in His hiddenness develops spiritual muscles we wouldn’t otherwise develop.
This hiddenness also protects us. As Moses learned at Sinai, direct exposure to God’s unfiltered glory would overwhelm our current capacities. God’s hiddenness is thus an act of mercy, allowing us to gradually develop the spiritual capacity to bear His presence. It’s like how we can safely look at a sunset but not directly at the sun—the problem isn’t with the light but with our current capacity to bear it.
Furthermore, God’s hiddenness creates space for spiritual community. If God were immediately obvious to everyone, we might not need to help each other grow in faith or understanding. The very act of seeking God together, sharing insights and experiences, builds the kind of loving community that reflects God’s own nature.
Living in Light of Divine Hiddenness
Understanding God’s pattern of hiddenness changes how we approach spiritual life. As St. Paul reminds us in 2 Corinthians 4:18,
“So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen, since what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.”
Rather than seeking dramatic manifestations, we learn to discern God’s presence in the ordinary moments of life, in the faces of others, in the beauty of creation, and in the quiet promptings of the Spirit. As Jesus taught through many parables, the kingdom of God often appears in seemingly small and hidden ways, like yeast working through dough or a mustard seed growing into a great tree.
This understanding transforms how we approach daily life. Every moment becomes potentially sacramental—a possible meeting point with God. Ordinary actions like sharing a meal, listening to music, or helping a neighbour become opportunities to encounter divine presence. The medieval concept of the “book of nature” takes on new meaning—all of creation becomes a text through which God communicates His presence to those with eyes to see.
This perspective also changes how we understand spiritual darkness or God’s apparent absence. What feels like abandonment might actually be an invitation to deeper trust. The “dark night of the soul” described by mystics like St. John of the Cross becomes not a sign of God’s absence but a deeper form of presence, one that purifies our spiritual senses and teaches us to rely on faith rather than feelings.
Moreover, recognising God’s normal mode of hidden presence helps us avoid both skepticism and superstition. We neither demand constant miraculous interventions nor dismiss the possibility of divine action in our lives. Instead, we develop a mature faith that recognises God’s fingerprints in the ordinary and extraordinary alike.
The Promise of Future Revelation
The current hiddenness of God is not permanent. Scripture promises that eventually, “we shall see face to face” (1 Corinthians 13:12). This future direct perception of God represents the fulfilment of our spiritual journey, what the Orthodox tradition calls theosis—complete union with and vision of God. Until then, we live in the tension of seeing “through a glass darkly,” finding God’s presence in the hidden places of life, and trusting that what is unseen is more real and lasting than anything we can perceive with our physical senses.
This deeper understanding of divine hiddenness invites us into a more mature and nuanced faith, one that recognises that God’s apparent absence might actually be the context for His most intimate presence in our lives. Yet this leads us to a crucial question: If God often remains unseen in our present reality, how do we come to recognise His presence here and now?
The answer lies in developing what spiritual writers have called the “eyes of faith”—learning to perceive the deeper reality behind what appears ordinary. Just as a scientist learns to interpret hidden patterns in nature, or an artist sees beauty where others see only the mundane, so too can faith train us to recognise God’s presence in the seemingly ordinary moments of life. By cultivating these spiritual senses, we begin to see beyond the material, opening our hearts and minds to a reality greater than ourselves.
In our next reflection, we will explore this concept of the eyes of faith more deeply—examining how faith opens our spiritual vision to a reality beyond the senses and allows us to see God’s hand in ways we might otherwise overlook. We will discover how to nurture this spiritual sight through prayer, scripture, and attentiveness to God’s presence in daily life.
