What is Hiding Behind God?
Have you ever experienced a conversation so impactful that it forever alters your perspective on a particular aspect of life? I've been fortunate enough to encounter such moments a few times in my journey. One such conversation revolved around the concept of "hiding behind God."
My wife and I found ourselves grappling with a comment made by someone, and amidst our processing, this phrase emerged in our dialogue:
Hiding.
Behind.
God.
"But, aren’t we supposed to Hide Behind God? Isn’t He our refuge?"
--No.
--Yes, but hiding is different than finding refuge.
You see, we were discussing a situation where someone was deeply struggling, and another individual offered them advice that, in reality, provided little solace. These words, though cloaked in the guise of godliness, were hollow and devoid of genuine support. Perhaps you've encountered similar sentiments: "Trust God. He won't give you more than you can handle..." "We were worshipping so intensely; you could feel the Holy Spirit thick in the air..." "I just experienced a blessing; God is truly good..." The list could go on. If you've spent time in church circles, chances are you've heard or even uttered these phrases yourself. I know I have.
This is not about deconstruction.
For a period, I served as a pastor at several churches, and over time, I amassed a modest collection of sermons that I delivered. Whenever I find myself tempted to cast judgment on a preacher based on one or even several less-than-perfect sermons, I revisit my own past messages. It's a humbling exercise that serves to remind me of the times I've stumbled or fallen short in my own preaching. I reflect on instances where I could have articulated my thoughts more effectively or where my perspective has evolved since then. This practice keeps me grounded and fosters empathy for others navigating similar challenges.
Although I'm no longer in a paid pastoral role, I still hold a deep concern for the church and its trajectory. I'm passionate about the theological discourse within our faith communities. One pivotal moment that spurred my contemplation on the topic of hiding behind God occurred years ago. I witnessed someone invoke theology to justify actions that blatantly contradicted the teachings of the Bible. In response, I couldn't help but challenge the notion that God prioritizes theological correctness over righteous behavior. While my statement, "God doesn't care about your theology," may seem provocative, it stemmed from a deeper conviction: theology devoid of Christ-like conduct holds little significance.
Consider the poignant example of a man who immersed himself in theological study yet failed to embody Christ's teachings of forgiveness. I recall how this individual, despite his theological acumen, ridiculed the Amish community for extending forgiveness to a perpetrator of violence. This incident left me grappling with profound questions about the true essence of theology and its impact on our lives
.
Do I believe that God disregards theology altogether? Certainly not. However, I am steadfast in my belief that God prioritizes theology that manifests in actions aligned with Christ's example. The essence of our faith lies not in theological debates or intellectual pursuits alone but in the transformative power of Christ-like love and forgiveness. This man's theology failed him in this instance.
Hiding is doing anything to avoid the pain that is part of this world.
Throughout my years of counseling, I've had the privilege of walking alongside many individuals grappling with grief and distress. Through these experiences, I've come to a profound realization: much of what we engage in within the modern church is an attempt to seek refuge in good and holy pursuits, all while hiding from the pain that lies beneath the surface.
These observations inspired a book sparked by a conversation with my wife, who suggested, "You should write a book about it. Call it 'Hiding Behind God'’" At the time, I was immersed in writing my first book, "The Emotionally Secure Couple," and launching my podcast, "The Joe Martino Show." While the idea for "Hiding Behind God" persisted, I began writing a completely different book about the whirlwind of our thoughts in our heads.
Despite multiple attempts, the book eluded me. I wrote it twice, only to delete it each time, feeling that it didn't quite capture the essence of what I wanted to convey. Someday, I will write that book about the storms that rage in our minds and how we can tame that tempest. But for the last four years, its formation has escaped me.
In early 2023, I made the decision to commit to writing "HBG" because I firmly believed it was the book that had been stirring within me, begging to be shared with the world. Now, almost 80,000 words later, I find myself on the brink of publishing this book. It has undergone seven iterations, each one refining and shaping the narrative into its final form. As I prepare to share this work with others, I am filled with anticipation and gratitude for the journey that has brought me to this moment. It might even be a two-part series!
As "HBG" nears its completion, I've realized the importance of fostering a community where we can openly explore the themes and concepts presented in the book. This community will serve as a space for candid discussions about the ways in which we may inadvertently hide behind good intentions and holy pursuits. My vision is for us to delve into the intersection of theology and psychology, questioning how our beliefs influence our actions and ultimately shape our character.
Central to our discussions will be the notion that theology devoid of a transformative impact, making us more Christ-like, is devoid of true meaning and may even lead to idolatry. Similarly, any gospel presentation that fails to convey genuine, life-altering good news falls short of its intended purpose and can be considered a distortion of truth—a form of sin.
In our community, nothing will be off-limits. Whether through comments or emails, I welcome diverse perspectives and encourage respectful dialogue, even in the face of disagreement. Kindness, rooted in genuine concern for one another's well-being, will guide our interactions. We'll acknowledge our emotions and bravely confront them, recognizing that this journey of introspection is essential for healing and personal growth—a journey that ultimately paves the way for a transformed world.
I'm not seeking to be trendy or provocative in these discussions—I've long outgrown such aspirations. Instead, my aim is to extend an invitation to each individual to embrace the life that God has called them to live—a life characterized by authenticity, compassion, and a relentless pursuit of positive change in the world. Join me as we embark on this transformative journey together.
I don’t believe in God. I can’t be hiding behind him or her.
I've encountered similar sentiments from atheist friends who assert that they can't possibly be hiding behind God because they don't believe in a deity, or if they do, they often refer to God in a gender-neutral manner. However, upon deeper reflection, I've come to realize that many of my atheist friends are, in fact, hiding behind their own versions of God—whether it be in the guise of logic or the existence of evil
In their quest to make sense of a world rife with suffering and injustice, they often find themselves grappling with the limitations of human understanding and the inadequacies of traditional theological explanations. Unable to reconcile their expectations of what a benevolent deity should be with the harsh realities they witness, they conclude that such a deity cannot exist.
I'm not on a mission to convince my atheist friends of the existence of God. I've learned that evidentiary arguments often fall short in addressing deeply held beliefs. Instead, I extend an open invitation to them to join the conversation. I firmly believe in the power of dialogue and the importance of engaging with perspectives that challenge our own.
God welcomes our questions, doubts, and even our anger. He beckons us to love Him and the world He created despite the complexities and uncertainties we may encounter along the way. These writings and musings are my humble attempt to navigate the complexities of faith, doubt, and the human experience as I strive to embody the love and compassion that God calls us to demonstrate in our lives. Our world is not yet whole. It is broken. It is in that brokenness that we are called to embrace our doubting friends, pointing them to Christ.
What can I expect from this blog?
That's a reasonable expectation. Initially, I anticipate publishing 1-2 blog posts per month, allowing me to establish a rhythm while managing my time effectively. As I become more adept at balancing commitments, there's potential for an increase in frequency.
You can expect to find 1-3 entries featuring my notes and study reflections within these posts. These may be presented without extensive context, offering raw insights and musings for readers to engage with.
Moreover, I welcome input and suggestions from readers like yourself. If you have specific topics or ideas you'd like me to explore, don't hesitate to reach out and share them. Your feedback is invaluable, and I'm eager to incorporate your thoughts into future discussions. Let's embark on this journey of exploration and growth together.
This post reminds me of a chapter in Marva Dawn’s book “Is it a lost cause.” The chapter is called LIAR- Low Information to Action Ratio. The same issue was struggled with in the juxtaposition of theology and practice. This made me think that whatever I or church does needs to be tethered to what the Bible says. So we change based on wrestling with the text. But so often churches don’t change, and so why should individuals. It’s perplexing. If we are to “preach for life change” why do we not see churches also changing in light of preaching?
There is a space between the cliff of deconstructionism and the prison of MacArthurism. Yet people are nervous to wrestle with God, not realizing that such is a part of faith. That seeking God is in facing the adversity life brings. Looking forward to the journey.