Hidden to whole: When love comes to light

Naomi Blowers reminds us that God’s love for us is unconditional, secure and steadfast. 

Lent is an invitation into honesty. It is 40 days when God lovingly draws us aside and says, ‘Let’s deal with what’s beneath the surface.’ This year’s Covenant Sunday called us to break up the unploughed ground in our hearts, the untouched places, the places we have learnt to protect. And when God starts digging, he isn’t trying to expose us to shame; he’s preparing us for growth. 

One of the deepest things that can become hidden in us is love. Not our love for God – though that can grow cold – but his love for us. Isn’t it strange? We can sing about it. We can preach about it. We can quote the verses. ‘I am fearfully and wonderfully made’ (Psalm 139:14). ‘Nothing … can separate us from God’s love (Romans 8:39 Contemporary English Version). We can tell other people that God loves them unconditionally and yet, somewhere along the way, we can lose sight of how God sees us.  

We start to see ourselves through the lens of failure instead of faithfulness. Through shame instead of grace. Through performance instead of promise. And slowly, quietly, God’s love becomes hidden to us. It hasn’t gone anywhere. But we stop living as if it’s true.  

What have you allowed to bury God’s love in your heart? For some of us, it’s disappointment. We prayed for something and it didn’t happen. We stepped out in obedience and it cost us. We assumed that, if God loved us, life would be easier. And when it wasn’t, a lie crept in: ‘Maybe I’m not as loved as I thought.’ 

For others, it’s comparison. We look at someone else’s gifting, ministry or family and we subtly conclude that God must prefer them. The Enemy doesn’t need to make us deny God’s love, just distort it.

And then there’s guilt. Lent confronts us with the cross and sometimes we see accusation. We think: ‘Jesus had to die because I messed up.’ But that’s not the whole truth. The cross is not God saying, ‘Look what you’ve done.’ The cross is God saying, ‘Look how far I will go to bring you home.’

The cross is not the proof of God’s judgement. It is the proof of his relentless, pursuing love. If God’s final word over humanity was judgement, there would be no Easter. There would be no empty tomb. There would be no Resurrection morning. But the story doesn’t end on Good Friday. It ends in victory! It ends in life. It ends in love.

Lent slows us down long enough to rediscover what has been hidden. You are not an afterthought to God. You are not tolerated. You are not loved on probation. You are wonderfully made. You are chosen. You are seen. You are loved. And when we truly believe that, something shifts inside us. Because what you believe about God’s love will shape how you live. 

If you believe God’s love is fragile, you will walk on eggshells. If you believe God’s love is conditional, you will live exhausted, trying to earn what has already been given. But if you believe God’s love is secure, sacrificial and steadfast, you will live from wholeness instead of striving.

Hidden love keeps us fragmented. Received love makes us whole. 

When our unploughed ground is broken up, what God wants to plant there is not condemnation, but compassion. Not fear, but freedom. Not shame, but identity.

God’s love is not the preface to the story. It is the conclusion. At Easter, love has the last word. So maybe this Lent, the prayer isn’t ‘God, make me try harder’, but ‘God, help me see myself the way you see me’.

Let God’s love turn over the soil of your heart. Let it uproot the lies you’ve believed about yourself. Let it sink deeper than your regrets, your doubts, your disappointments. Because when you know – really know – that you are loved beyond measure, you begin to live beyond fear. And that’s the journey from hidden to whole.