Can we have a conversation about why we sometimes avoid the light of God’s presence?
Think back to the Garden of Eden.
The picture Scripture gives us at the beginning is remarkably beautiful. Adam and Eve lived in communion with God. There was no distance, no awkwardness, no hiding. They were naked and yet unashamed, completely exposed and completely at home.
And then there was that beautiful picture of God walking in the garden “in the cool of the day.”
I imagine that the thought of God thrilled their souls. His presence was not something to escape from. It was something to look forward to. Until everything changed…
They ate from the forbidden tree. I do not claim to know exactly what the tree of the knowledge of good and evil represents, whether it was literal, symbolic, or something beyond our present understanding. But the larger picture is clear. They disobeyed God, and their response to God is perhaps one of the most revealing things in the whole story.
They hid.
“Adam and his wife hid themselves from the presence of the Lord God among the trees of the garden.”
Think about that for a moment.
The One whose presence had once been their joy suddenly became the One from whom they wanted to hide.
What happened?
The fear of rejection
The first thing we notice is that they became conscious of their nakedness. They suddenly saw themselves differently. What had previously been completely natural now felt shameful.
Perhaps this is one of the first things sin does to us.
It makes us feel exposed.
And when we feel exposed, we become afraid of rejection.
Isn’t this deeply human?
We dread rejection so much that we sometimes go to extraordinary lengths to secure acceptance. We change ourselves to fit into groups. We pretend to be people we are not. We join in things we know are wrong because everyone else is doing them. We compromise convictions because we are afraid of being left out.
So much of what we call peer pressure is simply the human longing to belong wearing a different face.
Adam and Eve were suddenly afraid that the light would expose them and that, once exposed, they would no longer be wanted.
And perhaps we do the same thing with God.
We fail.
We fall.
We become ashamed of ourselves.
Then instead of running towards God, we hide behind the trees of distraction, busyness, religious performance, self-condemnation, or simply staying away.
But there may have been another fear at work.
The fear of debt
Someone once joked that the fastest way to sabotage a friendship is for one person to become terribly indebted to the other.
It was said humorously, but there is some truth in it.
When you know you owe someone something you cannot repay, their presence can become uncomfortable. You avoid their calls. You hesitate to meet them. Even a simple greeting can remind you of what you owe.
Sin can create that kind of consciousness before God.
“I have failed again.”
“How can I pray after what I have done?”
“How can I come into God’s presence when I am not living the way I should?”
We begin to imagine God standing on the other side of our failure, waiting for us to settle the account. And so we hide. But here is where the gospel becomes astonishing.
The debt has been dealt with in Christ.
You do not have to approach God carrying an unpaid bill for holiness, purity and righteousness. Christ has become our righteousness. This does not make sin insignificant, rather, it makes grace magnificent. God does not say, “Clean yourself up, settle your account, become worthy, and then come back.” He comes to us in Christ, and supplies what we could never produce for ourselves.
This is why the words of 1 John 4:18 are so beautiful:
“There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear, because fear has to do with punishment.”
What if the presence of God is not a courtroom we should avoid until we have prepared our defence?
What if it is the very place we should run to when we have fallen?
This is where I love something Charles H. Spurgeon, the nineteenth-century English Baptist preacher and pastor, said: “Holiness is not the way to Christ; Christ is the way to holiness.”
That reverses something we often get wrong. We imagine that we must become holy enough to approach Christ.
But the gospel says that we approach Christ, and He leads us into holiness.
The difference is enormous.
If holiness is the entrance fee, then every failure becomes a reason to stay away. But if Christ is the way, then failure becomes a reason to draw nearer.
Perhaps this is what the story of Eden is inviting us to reconsider. The instinct to hide is understandable. Shame tells us to disappear. Fear tells us to keep our distance. Guilt tells us we should first make ourselves presentable.
Grace says something entirely different.
Come into the light.
Not because you have nothing to hide but because the One who sees everything already knows.
Not because you have paid your debt but because Christ has paid what you could never pay.
Not because you have finally become worthy of His presence but because His love has made a way for you to come home.
Maybe the question is not simply, “Why do I keep failing?”
Maybe sometimes we should ask, “Why do I keep hiding from the One who wants me to come closer?”
The trees may give us somewhere to hide but they were never home. The presence of God was, and will always be.
