Last night, Caroline and I were playing our version of hide and seek before she went to bed. It’s a pretty funny version of the game that I’m sure every parent has experienced at some time or another. It’s called “I hide, you count” in Caroline’s vernacular, and it is absolutely hilarious to hear her run off to the corner of the room you’re in, hide, and start to giggle when you call her name. It’s one of the many saccharine-sweet things she does, and I love it.
Usually, she’ll find one place to hide, and she’ll repeatedly go back, even though I know exactly where she is. Sometimes, she does something that only a child can do. She’ll take a pillow or a blanket and put it over her face, convinced that if she can’t see me, I can’t see her. We grown-ups realize how silly that is, but to a child, it seems perfectly logical. Of course, I find her (the giggling would give her away regardless!), and we play again. And again. And again.
I love it.
But last night, as we were playing, a thought occurred to me:
We play the exact same game with God.
Think about it. In all our posturing and religious-speak and good deeds we try to cover up our sinful nature. Like Adam and Eve in the garden, we think that our “fig leaves” hide us from God, when in actuality, they only enhance our silliness and sinfulness before Him. In effect, we grab a pillow and hide our face, convinced He can’t see us when we stray and wander.
Psalm 139 says:
Where shall I go from your Spirit?
Or where shall I flee from your presence?
8 If I ascend to heaven, you are there!
If I make my bed in Sheol, you are there!
9 If I take the wings of the morning
and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea,
10 even there your hand shall lead me,
and your right hand shall hold me.
11 If I say, “Surely the darkness shall cover me,
and the light about me be night,”
12 even the darkness is not dark to you;
the night is bright as the day,
for darkness is as light with you.
Let’s come into the light, with God and each other. Let’s walk in the light as children of the light. Let’s put down the pillows and fig leaves, and begin to walk as we’re called.
It seems the Lord is using my daughter to teach me lessons these days.