I met a woman once, a good woman, a generous woman, a faithful church-going woman, who wore an air of permanent sadness. Her husband had continuing illness, one child was in an in unhappy relationship, the other had serious illness, the news on the TV was distressing, the shops in her town were closing. She cracked a forced smile and said, “Well, that’s life. We just have to deal with it”. And she went to clean up after morning tea at church.

A good woman, who had been coming to church for over 50 years, but my heart grieved for her because there was nothing, it seemed, in her sad life of God. Life was difficult for her- there was no question of that. But it seemed to me that she was unable to see that God could be anywhere that was not good and bright and happy and well. Her life was far from that idyll, and so somehow, God was not even expected to be there.

And that is an attitude I do see in many congregations: there is a sense that all is over, the church is declining, nothing seems to bring people in. There is a human despair or resignation. But there is little sense that God might actually be wanting to work in that community.

We live in a materialistic, individualistic culture which emphasizes physical comfort and pleasure. And that secular viewpoint has, I believe, infected some Christians. For these Christians, their perspective has shrunk to a purely mortal world. This is all there is. God does exist, but somewhere out there, unrelated to us. I wonder if some of this attitude stems from the false idea that, if God was there, then everything would be better. There would be harmony in the family, good health, and things would hum.

 I sometimes wonder if Christians actually notice that the Cross is the centre of our faith. No, that is unfair, Christians do, but then, it depends what we make of that Cross; how do we understand that it actually brings salvation? Why do so many separate the divine and the human when God reveals himself in the life of the God-Human?

For me, the Cross shows very clearly that the divine enters into the very epicentre of human suffering and pain, into the very heart of death, and acknowledges the reality of it but also, and most wonderfully, transforms that suffering. There is redemption in suffering. Not just of Jesus’ suffering but for all of us, here and now.

And that redemption cannot be achieved by ourselves alone, for we are merely human. But God, the God who bursts himself into the tactile reality of the universe and of human life, asserts again and again through Scripture that his desire is for us to be one with him, for the divine and the human to meet and for us to know that we are not alone. Ever.

But we don’t see him. He is a hidden God or, as I heard someone say, a hiding God, and there is a profound difference between hidden and hiding. See the picture below. Is it two black faces or a white vase. But it isn’t actually either/or. It is both. Reality is both. 

Where is this hiding God, who is he? I want to explore, in these blogs, these questions. I believe God is here and active, and increasingly I see him at work in people and changing people. That is certainly a story we need to hear and to tell: the world is crying out for this.

Institutional religion may be dying in the west, but there is a deep hunger for God. So, the following articles are attempts to encourage the spiritually hungry so that, in a world of corruption, greed, and power, we can re-see that there is a God of goodness at the heart of the universe, that he does care for all his creation and there is a new creation, and a new Church, already emerging from the mess.

Like any writing about Christianity and spirituality, my attempts are a work in progress. The infinite cannot be neatly defined, but his works in this world can be described. This life is often beautiful, but also very hard. The divine presence is still here, and when we draw on his power, the power behind the creation of every atom of life, then we can begin to see the Good News.