Divine Hiddenness

Over the last couple of years I’ve been reading through a series of essays on divine hiddenness, written by philosophers and theologians, Christian and non-Christian, who attempt to put words to the nature of God and why His presence feels so distant at times.

I started exploring this topic more in more depth after wrestling with a health crisis in my late 20’s. I went through a period of intense suffering and experienced a darkness like no other. There were many late nights when I was up questioning my life and belief in God. I was at a point where I wanted to give up my faith entirely because of my lack of spiritual connection and felt intimacy with God. This is a hard place to be, and I don’t wish it on anyone. But the wisdom and resilience I gained through it helped me cultivate a more mature spiritual perspective.

These essays have helped me think more deeply and critically when it comes to bigger questions like, “Where is God in the midst of my suffering?” or, “Why don’t I feel his presence anymore?”

And after all, our longings and cries are not new to our Creator’s ears. For David himself cried through the Psalms, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?… O my God, I cry out by day, but you do not answer, by night, but I have no rest” (Psalm 22).

I recently finished an essay by Dr. Laura Garcia called The Necessity of Divine Hiddenness where she skillfully articulates why God might hide his presence from us. Stay with me, if you can, for I’ve found her arguments along with the words of St. John of the Cross to be powerful as I’ve continued to wrestle with God’s “hiddenness.”

The necessity of divine hiddenness

In light of the Christian narrative, we can confidently say that God desires for all people to come to know and love him, and be united with him for all eternity. This is at the heart of the Gospel. In order to experience this kind of unity and salvation, one must come to believe in Jesus and acknowledge him as Lord.

But what about those people who don’t ever hear about him? Or those persons who are not fully convinced because of a lack of evidence, or spiritual experiences?

One might say that if God is as powerful as he says he is, then he could (and should) make it so that everyone would come to know and believe in Him by giving them the right kinds of religious experiences and sufficient evidence of Him. If God’s desire is for all to come to know and love Him, then He can and should provide the means for us to do so, without leaving room for question, right? But He doesn’t manifest Himself in such direct ways to all people, therefore, is He really who He says He is?

To these arguments, Dr. Garcia initially brings up a few common responses from the Christian perspective:

At the end of the day, we do not know God’s plan for the human race in all it’s detail, therefore, it is logically possible that God has a perfectly good reason for providing the exact level of evidence for His existence.
According to Paul’s letter to the Romans, God has given every person sufficient evidence of His existence through creation. Nonbelief, in this respect, often involves some voluntary suppression of the truth. Meaning, we’ve all been given a basic revelation of God through His creation and have access to his His nature and truth. Those who do not believe in God are choosing not to do so because they have already been given the evidence that is needed.
God’s ultimate purposes are complex ones, which cannot be narrowed down within our finite minds. In his desire to respect the freedom of His creatures, he may act in ways that do not impose or force himself on anyone. This might also include him using his people -the church – to reveal more of himself to the world, thus preserving the relationality of human beings.

These are valid points, but there’s still more to address. Dr. Garcia continues on by introducing St. John of the Cross and his “dark nights” of the soul:

St. John of the Cross

According to the Christian tradition, faith is primarily an orientation of the will, an act of surrender, where we choose to believe in God’s existence and respond in obedience – even when we don’t have all the answers. As St. John notes, the type of faith that takes us into the life of God is one that involves a degree of self-denial, an emptying of ourselves, where our souls are purified from any internal or external forces that stand in the way of our unity with God.

This includes all our hopes, dreams, motives, goals, and aspirations, even if they are considered “good” things. In order to be fully united with God, we must detach ourselves from all earthly passions and pursuits. The type of attitude that brings about this type of genuine faith is one God cannot force upon us, but one we must choose though our own free will and perseverance.

St. John sees this process occuring in different stages, or “levels” of purification. Each of these three stages he calls a “dark night” as it often involves deep suffering and the absence of something we are drawn closely to. This includes our natural appetites, desires, and feelings, along with our own cognitive faculties and ideas about God. As the soul is weaned from its own appetites through a “fire of purgation,” God strengths it and gives it the capacity for a strong union of love with himself. The closer one is to this union of love, the more one suffers, St. John notes.

St. John notes that this type of union with God can only be accomplished through trials and tribulations of the soul. It is only through this process of purification that we can experience the joys of living in a state of perfect love with God. He notes:

“The reason these trials are necessary in order to reach this state is that the highest union cannot be wrought in a soul that is not fortified by trials and temptations and purified by tribulations, darkness, and distress, just as a superior quality liqueur is poured only into a sturdy flask which is prepared and purified.”
Living Flame of Love, St. John of the Cross

What strikes me here is that God must be hidden, in some degree, during these “dark nights” in order for the purification process to unfold. Our soul’s advances into these new stages would not happen in the same way if God were to reveal himself in more direct ways during this journey. This might overpower our freedoms, and cause us to respond in different ways.

For how could we say we wouldn’t respond in a certain way if we knew God were right there, watching us? I’d probably do the thing I’d think He’d want me to do, without giving it much thought. Is this really my choice, then? Or am I just doing something because I feel I should do it? Would it be a true test if I knew I was being watched? I don’t think so…

If St. John is right in claiming that we can only advance towards a stronger union with God by way of trials, darkness, and abandonment, then, as Dr. Garcia notes,

“it is necessary for God to hide Himself from [us] in some measure or at some points along the way in order to make this advance possible. God’s hiddenness is thus a result of His merciful love, which develops love and perseverance in His disciples by withdrawing the signs of His presence from time to time.”

Suffering then, including the suffering brought about by God’s hiddenness, is necessary in our soul’s detachment from other things, objects, and ideas, and leads to us seeking everything from Him.

While this perspective may not solve all our questions around divine hiddenness, it reminds me that no amount of religious experiences or evidence for God will take me to the spiritual places I crave. Sometimes I wonder if I would feel more satisfied with God if I could only uncover more evidence for Him, or have more experiences of His presence. But this likely isn’t the case. Jesus Himself performed many miracles while we walked the earth, and some continued to disbelieve.

What I think I need isn’t always what I really need. And perhaps God’s hiddenness, or my perceived sense of it during seasons of darkness, is what actually draws me towards Him in more committed, humble, and selfless ways.