A few weeks ago at church, my pastor unpacked a verse I’ve heard countless times and read every year of my Christian walk. Yet sitting in the church that night, it came alive to me like never before. It was a mic drop, mind blown, highlighter frenzy, perspective changing moment.
For you have died, and your life is hidden with Christ in God.” – Colossians 3:3
Immediately, my ears perked, soul leapt, and heart opened to what God was saying through him. My life is hidden with Christ. That’s such a mystery. To be hidden. Hidden: To conceal, to store up, must be searched for, not to reveal or make known, secret, veiled, to conceal from knowledge or exposure;
To conceal from knowledge or exposure. WOW! My life is concealed from knowledge or exposure with Christ. When Christ sees me, really sees me, He does not see the corruptive, destructive, defiled, and sinful woman that I am. You know what He sees? Himself! I’m hidden with Christ in God. The Father sees His Son’s righteousness in me. The old has passed, and behold, I am a new creation. Because of His unconditional favor in my life, I’m no longer dead in my sin, but renewed and restored to life in Christ. That old life can no longer be found—it’s hidden!
This is a new facet of grace I had never embraced. Being “hidden” denotes the secrecy and uniqueness of a life devoted to Christ. Things of great value are worth maximum security. To Christ, I am worth being hidden from this world. The spiritual life of any believer is hidden from others of the world. Those who are alienated and separate from the life of God, are blinded to the truth, and are strangers to the all the pleasures ever found in this close fellowship.
As women, we try so hard to conceal everything, try to hide every flaw, and never reveal our insecurities. Yet, our life is already hidden with Christ. We cannot fool Him, pretend with Him, cover up with Him. Just like detachment from sin, taking down my self-protective walls and being exposed as my imperfect self trains me for something more: emotional vulnerability. We are our most brave and truest selves when we approach someone we love in complete vulnerability, sharing with them everything.
In the same way, we must approach God in total vulnerability. He desires our most vulnerable selves. God wants all parts of us: the sinful and the holy. He knows our beauty and cherishes it, but He also knows our fallen nature and aches to heal it. In order to receive that healing, we must tear down our calloused walls and approach our Lord unprotected, exposed, and vulnerable.
Why is intimacy so frightening to so many? I believe, that rather than risk being hurt again, a damaged, sinful woman, such as myself, is likely to guard herself against ever revealing or responding from her deepest heart and longings. Instead settling for so much less in her intimate relationships than God ever intended for her. This is why I am so susceptible to pushing people away, to keeping them at arms length, and building indestructible self-protective walls.
It’s worth noting that Jesus’ interactions with women in Scriptures consistently addresses both their longing for and their fear of being intimately seen and known, particularly by God. The intimacy we were designed for is continually being sabotaged by our fear. We keep running away from what we long to be running toward. We desire oneness, yet flee the closeness. Our desire for love collides with our horror of vulnerability, dreading its desire because we can’t control it. Our longing for love and this intimacy with Christ, puts us at the mercy of possible rejection, probable disappointment, and certain chaos.