The Idea for this teaching (and help in writing it) was given me by my beloved husband who reminded me that God IS everywhere!
There is something so beautiful, so utterly humbling, about realizing that the Creator of all things has chosen to veil Himself, not because He is far off, but because He is nearer than breath, and wants to be sought. From the very beginning, this has always been His way. He hides, not to distance Himself, but to draw out the heart that loves Him enough to look deeper. Not with the natural eye, but with the kind of seeking that breaks through blindness.
It is the glory of God to conceal a matter, and the glory of kings to search it out (Proverbs 25:2). That word for “conceal” in Hebrew is סָתַר (satar), to hide, to cover, to make secret. And yet He is not hidden like something buried in the earth; He is hidden like sunlight behind a sheer veil. Present. Glorious. Felt. But not always seen unless you stop and turn toward Him.
Even in the Garden, when Adam sinned, it says, they heard the voice of the Lord God walking in the garden in the cool of the day (Genesis 3:8). They heard, but they didn’t see. And instead of running to that Presence, they hid. Man has been hiding ever since, even while God has remained close.
When Moses encountered the bush that burned without being consumed, it was not the fire that changed him, it was that he turned aside to look. The text says in Exodus 3:4: When the Lord saw that he turned aside to see, God called to him. It was that turning that opened the revelation. That moment of pausing to wonder. Could this be Him? Could the One I long for be right here, disguised in the ordinary?
So many walk by burning bushes every day. So many live under the heavens that declare the glory of God (Psalm 19:1) but never lift their eyes to read the proclamation. Because He doesn’t shout from the clouds. He whispers from within.
Even in His Name, He is hidden. The four-letter name of God (יהוה) is considered too sacred to say out loud. and is unpronounceable. Some say it mimics breath itself. Inhale… YAH. Exhale… WEH. The sound of our very breath speaks His Name, whether we believe or not. We are born crying His Name. We die with it still on our lips.
Hidden in creation. Hidden in breath. Hidden in us.
Paul said in Romans 1:20: For the invisible things of Him from the creation of the world are clearly seen, being understood by the things that are made, even His eternal power and Godhead, so that they are without excuse. That phrase “clearly seen” is the Greek καθορᾶται (kathoratai), not just glanced at, but perceived with discernment, with spiritual awareness. It’s the ability to recognize what the natural mind would miss.
This is what Yeshua spoke of again and again. He who has ears to hear, let him hear. The ear is there, but can it hear? The eye is there, but can it see? In Matthew 13:13, He says: I speak to them in parables, because seeing they do not see, and hearing they do not hear, nor do they understand. The truth is there, but hidden under story. Under symbol. Under flesh.
Because God’s glory is not only light, it is mystery. His Presence is not only loud, it is still.
Yeshua Himself was the greatest mystery wrapped in plain sight. He came unto His own, and His own received Him not (John 1:11). Can you imagine? The Messiah stood in the midst of the people who had prayed for Him for many centuries. They longed for Him. They studied about Him. Yet they didn’t even recognize Him when He finally did come. Because He came veiled in flesh, the Greek word in 1 Timothy 3:16 is ἐφανερώθη ἐν σαρκί (ephanerōthē en sarki), He was “manifested in flesh.” God, wrapped in skin. Not announced with lightning, but laid in a manger. Not lifted on a throne, but nailed to a tree.
And even in His resurrected form, He walked the road to Emmaus with two disciples and was still unrecognized. Their eyes were “restrained” until He broke bread, until the ordinary revealed the eternal. Then they said to one another, Did not our heart burn within us while He talked with us on the road? (Luke 24:32). The burning bush had walked beside them. And they hadn’t known.
Let’s think about that for a moment. Because we do the same thing. We look for miracles and signs and wonders, and miss the nearness of the One who whispers through wind, who weeps with us in prayer, who shows up in the kitchen when no one else is home. He speaks in the pages of Scripture. In the laugh of a child. In the sudden pause that halts your anger. He speaks in the discomfort that makes you question your way. He hides Himself, not to frustrate, but to be found by the heart that wants Him more than answers.
This is His way. Always has been.
Elijah expected to find Him in the wind, the earthquake, the fire. But He was in the still, small voice (1 Kings 19:11–13). The Hebrew calls it קֹול דְּמָמָה דַקָּה (qol demamah daqqah), a voice of thin silence. Almost nothing. Almost missed. And yet, there He was.
Even in the Tabernacle, the glory cloud didn’t rest on the outer courts. It didn’t rest in the loud worship, nor in the sacrifice, but on the mercy seat, hidden behind the veil. A place where no one could see, but only one could enter, once a year, trembling. God was in the בְּמִסְתָּרִים (b’mistarim), the hidden places (Jeremiah 23:24).
And yet this same God, who hides Himself, also promises in Jeremiah 29:13: You shall seek Me, and find Me, when you search for Me with all your heart.
Do you see the pattern?
He hides to be found. He veils His glory so that we pursue. He stands outside the door and knocks, not because He’s locked out, but because He honors the ones who will open.
Behold, I stand at the door and knock: if any man hear My voice and open the door, I will come in to him, and will sup with him, and he with Me (Revelation 3:20).
He’s hidden in plain sight. Waiting to be known.
In the Torah, the feasts reveal Him. In Passover, He is the Lamb. In Shavuot, the fire that writes His law on hearts. In Yom Kippur, the blood that atones. In Sukkot, the God who dwells with us.
In Hebrew, even the word for “face” is פָּנִים (panim), but it is always plural. Why? Because God’s face is not one-dimensional. It reflects layers. Depth. Angles we don’t always see until we seek. He shows only what we’re willing to turn toward. Even the high priest’s blessing says, The Lord make His face shine upon you… The Lord lift up His countenance upon you… (Numbers 6:24–26). To lift His face toward us means He is revealing what was once hidden. Grace is in that unveiling.
So what do we do with this?
We slow down. We look again. We stop asking where He is, and begin asking, Lord, what am I not seeing? Because it’s not that He isn’t near, it’s that people think and the churches preach that He is too holy or “too much of a gentleman” to force Himself where He isn’t wanted. But, the exact opposite is true: HE invades… Look at Paul and what happened to him on the road to Damascus(Acts 9:1-19).
The Pharisees missed Him. The scholars missed Him. But the woman with the alabaster box saw Him. The thief on the cross saw Him. The children climbing into His arms saw Him.
Even today, He appears… in the moment you pause before reacting. In the silence between tears. In the Word that comes alive when your soul is dry. He walks beside you like He did on the Emmaus road. And if your heart burns, it’s because He’s already speaking.
He is hidden, but never absent. Concealed, but always near.
If you will turn aside, He will call your name.
And perhaps one of the clearest ways He hides in plain sight is in His Names. Each one is like a veil pulled back, just a little, so we can glimpse another facet of who He is. He doesn’t simply reveal Himself all at once; He reveals Himself by encounter.
When Abraham lifted the knife on Mount Moriah, and the angel of the Lord cried out from heaven, stopping his hand, it was then, not before, that Abraham named the place יְהוָה יִרְאֵה (YHWH Yireh), the LORD will provide (Genesis 22:14). That Name wasn’t spoken before the moment, it was discovered through it. Through obedience. Through the fire of testing. God was already there. But only in turning to see the ram caught in the thicket did Abraham realize what had always been true.
The same is true for Hagar in the wilderness, when she was fleeing Sarah. There, in her rejection, her pregnancy, her brokenness, God met her, not with fanfare, but with a question: Where have you come from and where are you going? (Genesis 16:8). She saw Him, and then she named Him: אֵל רֳאִי (El Ro’i), the God who sees me. And she said, Have I also here seen Him who sees me? (Genesis 16:13). A holy shock. She didn’t know He was watching, until she realized He had been watching all along.
That is how He reveals Himself. Little by little. In real moments. He doesn’t always declare Himself upfront. He lets us walk, search, hunger, cry out, and then… when the veil lifts… we say, That was You!
There are many times He hides to protect us from what we’re not yet ready for. In Exodus 33:20, He tells Moses plainly, You cannot see My face, for no man shall see Me and live. But just two verses later, He tells him, You shall see My back, but My face shall not be seen (Exodus 33:23). What does that mean? It means God allowed Moses to see where He had been, the evidence of His passing glory. The Hebrew here for “back” is אָחוֹר (achor), but it implies the afterward, the trailing presence, the results of His movement.
Sometimes, God hides so that we only recognize Him afterward. In hindsight. I didn’t see Him then, but now… now I know He was with me. That’s the grace of achor, His “back.”
And in the moments when we think He’s absent, He may be doing His deepest work.
Yeshua cried out on the cross, אֵלִי אֵלִי לָמָה עֲזַבְתָּנִי (’Eli, ’Eli, lamah ’azavtani?) , “My God, My God, why have You left me?” (Matthew 27:46). At first glance, these words sound like a cry of abandonment, but they are actually a direct quotation from Psalm 22, a psalm that begins with anguish yet unfolds into triumphant trust and praise.
The Hebrew verb עָזַב (‘azav) means “to leave” or “to forsake,” but within the psalm and in Yeshua’s usage, it carries a HUGE layered meaning: God’s presence is hidden, veiled from immediate sight, not absent. This hiddenness is part of God’s way, to conceal Himself so that faith must seek Him more deeply.
Far from a sign of desertion, Yeshua’s cry points to the mystery of God’s redemptive plan working quietly behind the scenes. The Father was never truly gone, He was watching, sustaining, and orchestrating salvation, even when unseen.
Even in the silence of the cross, God was actively saving. Even in the darkness of the tomb, He was conquering death itself. Psalm 22 does not end in despair but in victorious praise, reminding us that God’s covenant faithfulness is never absent, only sometimes hidden from plain sight.
Sometimes, God hides to refine.
In Isaiah 45:15, the prophet declares: Truly You are a God who hides Yourself, O God of Israel, the Savior. The Hebrew is powerful here, אָמְנָם אַתָּה אֵל מִסְתַּתֵּר (amnam attah El mistatter), “Surely, You are a God who hides.” But the word מִסְתַּתֵּר (mistatter) doesn’t mean He’s just hidden, it means He’s deliberately concealing Himself. Purposely cloaked. Like a king behind a curtain, or a shepherd behind the hill. Not gone. Just not visible… yet.
The prophet Habakkuk echoes this mystery in Habakkuk 3:4, saying of the Lord, His brightness was as the light; He had horns coming out of His hand: and there was the hiding of His power. That phrase, the hiding of His power, means that His might is cloaked in gentleness. His thunder is wrapped in silence. His sovereignty is cloaked in the subtlety of human weakness.
How easily we miss Him, expecting the wrong kind of glory.
This is why the religious leaders missed Yeshua. They expected a Messiah with a sword. A conqueror. Not a carpenter. Not a healer. Not a Lamb. They didn’t recognize that the prophecy of Isaiah 53 had to be fulfilled before the crown could be worn. That He would be despised and rejected of men, a Man of sorrows, and yet, the very One who carried the iniquity of us all.
Yeshua was never hidden from the humble.
The blind saw Him. The lepers saw Him. The demon-possessed knew who He was. The Roman centurion, who had no Torah training, recognized His authority. But the scholars? The religious elite? The ones who should have known? They looked at the glory standing right in front of them and said, Is this not the carpenter’s son? (Matthew 13:55).
The glory of God wrapped itself in skin. The Word was made flesh and dwelt among us, literally ἐσκήνωσεν ἐν ἡμῖν (eskenōsen en hēmin), He “pitched His tent” among us, a direct link to the Tabernacle Presence in the wilderness (John 1:14). But you had to look through the veil to see it.
He still hides like that.
He hides Himself in the stranger. In the sick. In the “least of these.” He hides in the Word, waiting to open it to those who hunger. He hides in your own life, in places where you’re sure nothing good can come. But later… when the veil lifts… you’ll look back and say, That was the Lord.
Let’s go to Hosea 5:15, where God says: I will go and return to My place, till they acknowledge their offense, and seek My face: in their affliction they will seek Me early. That’s a hard truth. God is not always obvious in the comfortable times. Sometimes He hides Himself in the affliction, just enough so that we will seek again. So we will crave His face, not just His hand.
And when we do?
He reveals Himself again, like a sudden sunrise. Like dew on dry ground.
Come, let us return unto the Lord… Then shall we know, 1we follow on to know the Lord: His going forth is prepared as the morning… (Hosea 6:1–3).
That phrase, prepared as the morning, is key. Just like you can’t force dawn to come earlier, you can’t rush revelation. But it will come. If you keep seeking, keep looking, keep turning aside.
And sometimes, and this is the part we don’t often talk about… sometimes He hides in judgment. Not because He delights in it, but because He allows His absence to provoke repentance.
In Ezekiel 10:18, the prophet saw the glory of the Lord depart from the threshold of the Temple. It was one of the most devastating moments in Israel’s history. The visible glory, the כָּבוֹד (kavod), lifted and left. But even that was a hidden mercy, because He didn’t destroy the people outright. He withdrew… to invite return.
He did the same in Revelation 2–3, warning the churches: If you do not repent, I will remove your lampstand. A hidden Christ walks among His people. And even in warning, His voice is filled with hope. He who has an ear, let him hear…
He is always calling. Always revealing Himself in mercy first. In the stillness. In the Word. In conviction. Only if we ignore it does He hide more deeply.
But to the one who turns? To the one who hungers? To the one who dares to say, Show me Your glory? He still does. He still speaks. He still walks in gardens. He still appears at the table. He still whispers in the cave. And when you see Him, not with the eye, but with the heart, you know that the veil was never meant to keep Him away… only to train your eyes to see what most never will.
God Is Hidden in Plain Sight
And there’s more. Because this pattern of hiddenness, this glory wrapped in stillness, doesn’t end with the cross. It reaches into the Revelation. Into the last days. Into the Bride who makes herself ready.
There is a reward for the one who sees what others overlook.
In Revelation 2:17, Yeshua promises the overcomer something strange and beautiful: To him that overcomes will I give to eat of the hidden manna… That word “hidden” is κεκρυμμένον (kekrummenon), concealed, stored up, kept secret for the faithful.
What is this hidden manna?
In the wilderness, God fed His people with daily bread they couldn’t explain. The word “manna” literally means What is it?, מָן (man) in Hebrew. It was white, sweet, and came from heaven. But it had to be gathered daily, or it rotted. Except for one portion.
One pot of manna was taken and placed inside the Ark of the Covenant, hidden away with the tablets of the law and Aaron’s rod that budded. That manna never decayed. Why? Because it wasn’t just bread. It was a testimony.
It pointed to the Bread of Life, the One who said, I am the living bread which came down from heaven: if any man eat of this bread, he shall live forever (John 6:51). And when He spoke those words, they were offended. Because He looked like a man. A carpenter. Someone plain. And yet, He was hiding the food that never perishes.
The hidden manna is a picture of revelation that is reserved for the hungry, nourishment only visible to those who overcome. Not in public signs. Not in flashy miracles. But in daily trust. In quiet obedience. In the kind of seeking that gathers His Presence when others sleep in.
Yeshua never stopped hiding Himself in plain sight. He’s still doing it now.
And one of the most humbling truths is that He is also hidden in the remnant.
Paul speaks in Romans 11:5 of a remnant according to the election of grace. The Greek word is λεῖμμα (leimma), what remains. A small group within the larger people. Often overlooked. Not glamorous. Not loud. But chosen.
This remnant carries His heart when the rest of the world trades it for something more convenient. They carry His Word in seasons of famine. They carry His oil when others run dry.
Elijah thought he was the only one left. But God told him, I have reserved for Myself seven thousand who have not bowed to Baal (1 Kings 19:18, echoed in Romans 11:4). Reserved for Myself. Hidden. Set apart. Not displayed, but preserved.
That’s still how He works.
And there’s something else.
In Colossians 3:3, Paul writes: Your life is hidden with Christ in God. That word “hidden” is κέκρυπται (kekruptai), concealed, kept secret. Not lost. Not unseen. Protected. It means that what the world doesn’t value, God treasures.
If you feel invisible… if your obedience feels unnoticed… if your prayers seem to echo in silence… you are not unseen. You are hidden with Him. The world doesn’t recognize your worth because they didn’t recognize His. But the Father sees. And when Christ, who is your life, shall appear, then you also shall appear with Him in glory (Colossians 3:4).
You’ve been hidden for a reason. But you won’t stay hidden forever.
Because the time is coming, soon, when every veil will be removed. When the clouds will split. When every eye shall see Him, even those who pierced Him (Revelation 1:7). When the One who walked with us in secret will come riding the clouds in power and great glory.
But here’s the great mystery: To the world, it will be a sudden shock. But to the Bride, it will feel like the face of Someone we’ve known all along.
Because the Bride knows how He hides. She’s learned His scent. His footsteps. His whisper. She has oil in her lamp and eyes on the horizon. She is the one described in Song of Songs 5:6, where the Bride says, I opened to my beloved; but my beloved had withdrawn himself, and was gone: my soul failed when he spake… I sought him, but I could not find him… She keeps searching. Because she has known the glory of seeking what others don’t bother to look for.
This is the heartbeat of the final generation: those who find Him before He comes.
Those who recognize Him in the poor.
Those who hear Him in the silence.
Those who worship without needing a platform.
Those who turn aside when the fire flickers in the ordinary.
It will not always be this way. He hides now… but soon He will reveal. And when He does, the world will weep because they didn’t recognize Him. But the Bride? Oh, she will rise. She will say, This is the One I have longed for. This is the One I’ve seen in glimpses, in shadows, in Word and wonder. I knew You were coming. I saw You all along.
Until that day, we walk like the disciples after Emmaus, hearts burning, eyes slowly opening.
We look for Him in the text.
In the garden.
In the interruptions.
In the ache.
In the awe.
We become people who turn aside… Because we know…
God is hidden in plain sight.
And we are learning to see.
Footnotes
1. The word “If” is not in the original text.
And THAT is…
images done by chatgpt at my direction