Where Are You?
READ
There's a moment in the Genesis story that haunts me. God comes walking in the garden "at the time of the evening breeze," presumably as He had done countless times before. But this time, something has changed. Adam and Eve hear His voice—that voice they used to run toward—and they hide themselves among the trees.
Let’s take a moment to read Genesis 3:1-13:
Now the serpent was more crafty than any of the wild animals the Lord God had made. He said to the woman, “Did God really say, ‘You must not eat from any tree in the garden’?”
The woman said to the serpent, “We may eat fruit from the trees in the garden, but God did say, ‘You must not eat fruit from the tree that is in the middle of the garden, and you must not touch it, or you will die.’”
“You will not certainly die,” the serpent said to the woman. “For God knows that when you eat from it your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God, knowing good and evil.”
When the woman saw that the fruit of the tree was good for food and pleasing to the eye, and also desirable for gaining wisdom, she took some and ate it. She also gave some to her husband, who was with her, and he ate it. Then the eyes of both of them were opened, and they realized they were naked; so they sewed fig leaves together and made coverings for themselves.
Then the man and his wife heard the sound of the Lord God as he was walking in the garden in the cool of the day, and they hid from the Lord God among the trees of the garden. But the Lord God called to the man, “Where are you?”
He answered, “I heard you in the garden, and I was afraid because I was naked; so I hid.”
And he said, “Who told you that you were naked? Have you eaten from the tree that I commanded you not to eat from?”
The man said, “The woman you put here with me—she gave me some fruit from the tree, and I ate it.”
Then the Lord God said to the woman, “What is this you have done?”
The woman said, “The serpent deceived me, and I ate.”
REFLECT
God calls out, "Where are you?" It's the first question God asks humanity after the fall, and it reverberates through all of human history. Not because God didn't know where they were—He's not playing hide-and-seek. He asks because they no longer knew where they were. Sin had already begun its fragmenting work, splitting them into creatures of shame who had to hide their true selves, even from the One who made them.
Adam's answer is telling: "I heard you in the garden, and I was afraid because I was naked; so I hid." Notice the progression: hearing, fear, hiding. The voice that once brought joy now triggers terror. The relationship that was intimate becomes distant. And in that distance, they lose not just their connection with God, but their sense of themselves.
This is the original fracture—the moment humanity became divided people. Before the fruit, Adam and Eve were integrated: their inner life and outer life matched, their relationship with God flowed naturally into relationship with each other, their work was worship. But sin didn't just separate them from God; it separated them from themselves. They became performers, blame-shifters, excuse-makers, people who could no longer stand naked—physically or spiritually—before anyone. And we've been hiding ever since.
We hide behind our accomplishments, hoping our résumé will be enough to silence the inner voice that says we're not. We hide behind our wounds, using past hurts as an excuse to avoid present growth. We hide behind our theology, our service, our carefully curated social media presence—anything to keep people from seeing where we really are.
But here's what we miss in our hiding: God doesn't come to condemn. He comes at the time of the evening breeze, in the cool of the day, at the hour meant for connection and rest. He comes not to punish their nakedness but to address it—to cover them, yes, but first to call them out of hiding.
The tragedy is what they do instead. Adam blames Eve. Eve blames the serpent. Nobody takes responsibility. Nobody says, "Here I am, exposed and ashamed, and I don't know how to make this right." They're already too divided, too fractured, too committed to protecting themselves to risk honest disclosure. This pattern of withholding—of presenting part of ourselves while hiding the rest—it fractures everything it touches. When we hide from God, we inevitably hide from each other. When we can't be honest about our struggles, we can't be real in our relationships. When we perform instead of being present, we lose the very connection we're desperately trying to maintain.
I see this in myself constantly. The way I curate which prayers I voice in community and which I only whisper alone. The way I share victories but hide struggles, post highlights but delete the raw moments, present a version of my spiritual life that's cleaner than the reality. I'm so afraid of being seen as disappointment that I hide my actual disappointments. I'm so committed to appearing whole that I can't risk showing where I'm broken.
But God keeps asking the question: Where are you? Not where you appear to be. Not where you want others to think you are. Where are you, really? And here's the invitation embedded in that question: God isn't asking so He can shame us. He's asking so He can find us. He's asking so we can stop hiding and start healing. He's asking because restoration always begins with location—with knowing and naming where we actually are.
The evening breeze still comes. God still walks in the garden. He still calls out to us, not because He's lost us, but because we've lost ourselves. And His voice—the voice we've learned to fear—is actually the only voice that can call us back to wholeness. What if today, you answered honestly? What if you stopped hiding, stopped performing, stopped managing the image, and simply said: Here I am. Naked. Ashamed. Afraid. Divided. But here.
That's where restoration begins. Not in the having-it-together. Not in the perfectly-presented version. In the honest disclosure of where we actually are. God already knows. He's waiting for us to know. And when we finally stop hiding, we discover something remarkable: the voice we feared is the voice we've been longing for all along. The One we hid from is the only One who can make us whole again.
The evening breeze is blowing. God is walking in the garden. And He's asking the question that could change everything: Where are you?
RESPOND
Take a moment to process what God might be leading you to do in light of what you read.
What parts of yourself are you currently hiding from God, and what do you fear would happen if you brought them into the light?
What would it mean for you to answer God's question—"Where are you?"—with complete honesty today? What's one step you could take toward that kind of transparency?
REST
Take a moment to rest in God’s presence and consider one thing you can take away from your time reading, then close your devotional experience by praying:
Father, I've been hiding—from You, from others, from myself. Today I choose to answer Your question honestly: here I am, broken and ashamed, exhausted from performing. Thank You that You come not to condemn but to restore. Help me trust that the voice I fear is actually the voice that can make me whole again. Amen.