My Hidden Life

At the start of 2018, God asked me to live a hidden life for an indefinite amount of time.

I was sitting in my husband’s office during a four-hour spiritual retreat. I had approached this particular retreat with some solid expectations. We had been living in California for about a year and now that all the major transitions had subsided, I was sure that it was time for me to start getting more involved in my church and community. Surely I would sing up front with Nick again.  And maybe I would teach for Sabbath School and join the choir.  And of course find a way to serve my community and be involved in whatever my kids would be a part of. But as I spent my time with Him, His message was clear: Do. Nothing.

Over the rest of January, God began laying out the specifics of His plans.  Some of those included taking no public positions (besides a small group I led at the end of the year), deleting my Facebook account, and not enrolling my kids in anything besides therapy. I remember telling a friend about my plans for a year of “nothing” and she asked, “but how will you find meaning and purpose in life?” Her question didn’t surprise me since I had wondered that too. “Well,” I answered, “I think that’s the point. Maybe my meaning and purpose are rooted in the wrong thing.”

So 2018 was a hidden life for the kids and I. What God did want me to spend my time doing was serving in the home and spending more and more time with Him.   Let me be honest by saying that this was no easy task for me. I had days where I felt a high sense of trust that God knew what He was doing and good would come of it. Other days I just felt plain freaked out. I had many thoughts of doubt and worry. I should be doing something though! It looks like I don’t care about helping with anything. My kids will be getting behind. Are they going to be ok? I know it’s good to do things up front. Aren’t we supposed to use our talents? God kept reassuring me that one day He would call me and my kids to use our gifts in a more public way, but for now He was trying to develop something necessary in us.

I once heard Gordon Bietz say, “Those who move around a lot broaden their view, and those who stay in the same place deepen their view.” As I literally stayed in the same place for most of the year in my physical home and being still before God, my views of everything did deepen. I realized for the first time in my life that even though I claimed to love people just for who they are alone, I didn’t really. There was a part of me that partially loved and valued people based on what they could do, how skilled they were, how impressive they were. And this applied to my children and myself. From the time we are young, we get applauded for smiling, walking and talking, riding a bike, learning the piano, scoring a goal, etc. These types of things become huge monuments and sources of pride for parents and we carry them into our adulthood. It is near impossible not to tie your value as a person with accomplishments. My childhood wasn’t even filled with large amounts of tournaments and recitals, but I live in a culture where we spend time watching competitions of all kinds, and where even the normal person can become a star on Instagram or YouTube. We spend a great deal of life applauding each other for the things that we do.

Spending longer periods of time with God altered all of that for me. I heard loudly about God’s love for me and I wasn’t even doing anything! I no longer had the voices of performance, comparison, and admiration distracting me. As I focused less on my presence in the visible world, I was able to experience profoundly the presence of the invisible God. I have found God to be everything I desire and His love for me is all the approval I need. Now when I spend time with Him, I just want to be with Him because I love Him instead of hoping I will get directions in a specific area of life or get His blessing on something I hope goes well. And my children are more precious to me than ever after all the time we spent doing “nothing” together.

At the end of 2018 I attended a Christmas program. At first I was excited by the atmosphere, decorations, and performances. But when the children’s choir took center stage, I felt overwhelmed with sorrow and I struggled to keep the tears back. I may never have a picture of any of my children in a children’s choir. Why does it have to be this way? Even if we weren’t living this year of “nothing,” none of my children would’ve even wanted to be in the choir.   I started observing my children who were sitting with me. Eden, my reserved and introverted first-born, was thoroughly enjoying the program and didn’t have a shed of regret for not being in the choir. Ezra, my middle-child who struggles a great deal internally with his inability to perform basic tasks due to his weakness and so shies away from public attention, was engrossed in his construction man action figure. And Salem, the youngest, who is very high sensory, was lying. on. the. ground. trying to feel the carpet against his whole body. And then God spoke to me, “is that really what you want them to find their value in? In how talented they are? In how much praise they get from people? What I value most in you and your children is what we have been working on all year. Keep your eyes open and see.”

A few days after the Christmas program I was struggling with Eden. From the colder temperature in winter and the dryness of heaters, her bottom lip had split open and was very painful. This resulted in a bad mood for her and the target for her irritation was Ezra. After several frustrated conversations with her and trying to console her wounded little brother, I told her that I understood how hard it must be with her lip hurting, but she needed to learn to love people even when it was hard. “Ok, Mommy,” she said sincerely, “I’ll try.”

In the evening Nick arrived home after a day of work. Ezra met his arrival with the suggestion, “let’s wrestle!!!” He and Nick started running upstairs to the master bedroom (the only room with carpet) to begin their wrestling fest. Eden, whose turn it was to help make dinner, came slowly into the kitchen with her step stool. As she took her place on the step stool, she looked at me sadly and whispered, “I wish I could go wrestle with them.” Knowing that she didn’t get to see her dad much that day and that he would be rushing off to a work commitment once dinner was over I told her, “Eden I don’t mind if you go wrestle with Daddy. This is the only time you will get to spend with him today so I’ll make dinner and you go, ok?” But Eden looked at me seriously and shook her head. “Eden, it’s really ok,” I assured. “No,” she said, “I want to make dinner.” “Are you sure?” I asked incredulously. “Yes,” she answered quietly. “Eden, what’s wrong?” I asked. With her eyes beginning to pool with tears and her lip quivering she murmured, “I want to let Ezra have some alone time with Daddy. I’m going to stay and make dinner.” I immediately hugged her and she cried.

The next morning during my devotions, I was reflecting on the Christmas program and what happened with Eden the night before when I read this: “If I speak in tongues of men or of angels, but do not have love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have faith that can move mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing. If I give all I possess to the poor and give over my body to hardship that I may boast, but do not have love, I gain nothing.” 1 Corinthians 13:1-3

In 2018, the kids and I had no live audiences and were not a part of anything that typically offers praise. But on the night that Eden decided to let Ezra have alone time with Nick she had a hidden audience in Heaven that was applauding her for her sacrificial love. That night I caught a glimpse of my daughter’s hidden heart. I was more proud of her that moment than if she sang ten solos in the children’s choir. As I reflected on these things, God whispered to me, “how you are proud of Eden is how I am proud of you. Live for the Invisible Audience, not the visible one.”