The Obscurity of Dusk

Scripture gives us examples of God’s obscurity, when God conceals his glory or his presence somehow:

The people stood far off, while Moses drew near to the thick darkness where God was. Exodus 20:21, ESV

You came near and stood at the foot of the mountain, while the mountain burned with fire to the heart of heaven, wrapped in darkness, cloud, and gloom. Deuteronomy 4:11, ESV

The secret things belong to the Lord our God, but the things that are revealed belong to us and to our children forever, that we may do all the words of this law. Deuteronomy 29:29, ESV

How long, O Lord? Will you forget me forever? How long will you hide your face from me? Psalm 13:1, ESV

It is the glory of God to conceal a matter; to search out a matter is the glory of kings. Proverbs 25:2

Truly, you are a God who hides himself, O God of Israel, the Savior. Isaiah 45:15, ESV

He reveals deep and hidden things; he knows what is in the darkness, and the light dwells with him. Daniel 2:22, ESV

Best-practice biblical exegesis requires more than a simple word study or a few verses as “proof of concept,” but a sense of God’s hiddenness can be found throughout the Scriptures, throughout history, throughout our spiritual formation. There is some sort of divine precedence here. But the why and the where is God of it all? That’s the difficult question to answer.

When something doesn’t feel true, sometimes the only thing we can do is look at what has been true before. We must remember in the dark what we knew in the light. Remember under the moon what we knew in sunnier seasons. We even remember nights we’ve been in before—maybe not as dark, maybe not as long—and how we stepped out into daylight again to discover that God was with us the whole time. Relying on what we know about God’s character, goodness, and revelation gives us sustenance for the journey ahead. Intentionally recalling how God has worked in the past helps us make out his presence in our hazy now. Looking at the lives of other followers of God throughout history gives us hope as we see how God has used the obscure evening before.

This is the strange thing about the dark night: It somehow obscures us from connecting with God, while drawing us deeper into desire for that connection. The absence, the unknowing, the pulling away, it all serves as a kind of magnet pulling us toward divine love.

As you read today’s scripture, note a repeated refrain:

“Having been kept by the Holy Spirit from preaching the word [there] . . .”

“The Spirit of Jesus would not allow them to . . .”

Paul and his crew were trying to follow their calling, their mission, yet God thwarted their efforts. God changed their direction. God stopped them in their tracks. God blocked their goal. They thought their feet would take them one way, but the Spirit of Jesus had other plans.

Paul was given a dream, a vision, but he did not have a map. Still, Paul took one step of faith at a time, while God moved him in unexpected, tedious, and seemingly ridiculous directions. But all of it led Paul to Lydia and the advancement of the Gospel into new, unexpected places.

And yet.

What we see in Paul’s story is often what we cannot see in our own, especially when we find ourselves in the middle of an obscure evening. God is at work, even when the path is dim. God is doing something, something good, even when we can’t see clearly. God’s past faithfulness—in Scripture, in our own stories, in the stories of other fellow travelers—can give us something to hold onto when our own belief feels hard. Perhaps for us, like for Paul and his companions, every God, where are you? is a step toward greater goodness, meaning, depth.