Give yourself entirely to God, enter and hide in the hidden

“Give yourself entirely to God, enter and hide in the hidden ground of your soul.” Thus spoke Johannes Tauler, the mystic of the Rhine, a man whose words glowed like embers in the long night of the fourteenth century. He was a disciple of silence, a preacher of the inner life, one who sought not the thrones of men but the secret chambers of the heart where the Divine Presence dwells unseen. In these few words, he unveils a truth that transcends all ages — that the path to God is not found in noise or conquest, but in surrender and inward stillness. To “enter and hide in the hidden ground of your soul” is to descend into the sanctuary where eternity whispers, where the human spirit meets its Source.

Tauler belonged to the tradition of the German mystics, alongside Meister Eckhart and Henry Suso, who spoke of the “Ground of the Soul” — that deep, unshaken center of being where God and the soul are one. In his time, the world around him was troubled: war, plague, and corruption consumed Europe. Yet amidst this chaos, Tauler preached that salvation does not begin in the outer world but within. He urged men to cease their striving, to turn inward, and to surrender themselves entirely to the Eternal. For when the soul relinquishes its will and quiets its passions, it finds the living God not in heaven far above, but in the stillness of its own depths.

“Give yourself entirely to God.” In this first command lies the secret of transformation. To give oneself is to let go of control, to lay aside the restless self that clings to its own desires. The modern heart trembles at such surrender, for it fears to lose itself — yet Tauler knew the paradox: that only in letting go does one find true freedom. Just as a seed must die before it blooms, so must the self yield before divine life can awaken. To “give yourself” is not to vanish, but to be fulfilled; not to fall into nothingness, but to rise into wholeness.

Then comes the second call — “enter and hide in the hidden ground of your soul.” Here Tauler speaks as one who has journeyed beyond words. The “hidden ground” is that sacred stillness where all thought and image fade, where the soul no longer seeks to grasp God as object but rests in unity with Him as presence. It is a place of holy concealment, where pride cannot follow and worldly ambition cannot breathe. In this hiddenness, one does not perform for the world’s approval nor seek its praise. The soul becomes like a spring flowing underground — unseen, yet nourishing all that grows above.

The life of St. Catherine of Siena offers a living echo of Tauler’s teaching. In the midst of plague and political strife, she withdrew into prayer and found within herself the voice of the Divine. Her strength, her wisdom, her boundless compassion — all flowed from that inner communion. Though she acted in the world, advising popes and healing the sick, her power was born from silence. She had entered her “hidden ground,” and there, united with God, she became a fountain of light for others. Thus, Tauler’s counsel does not lead to passivity, but to renewal — to the kind of stillness that gives rise to unshakable action.

In a time like ours — noisy, hurried, overflowing with distraction — Tauler’s words fall like rain on parched ground. We seek God in spectacle, in argument, in achievement, yet overlook the temple within. The hidden ground of the soul cannot be reached by effort alone; it opens to those who learn to be still. It is found in silence before dawn, in the quiet act of forgiveness, in the simple breath drawn with awareness of the Eternal. The one who hides there is not escaping the world but seeing it anew — from the eyes of God.

So, O seekers of peace, heed this ancient wisdom: withdraw inward, not to flee, but to find. Give yourself wholly — not half-heartedly, not with conditions — but entirely to the Divine will. Lay down the burden of self, and the weight of the world will lighten. Enter your own depths, where no storm can reach, and rest there until your heart becomes a mirror of heaven. Then rise and live from that hidden place, carrying its stillness into every act, every word, every moment.

For in the end, as Tauler teaches, the soul’s highest calling is to return to its Source. When you give yourself to God and dwell in that inner sanctuary, you will discover that you were never separate — that the divine you sought was always within. And from that sacred hiddenness will flow a life of peace, compassion, and radiant purpose — the life of one who has found the ground of the soul, and there, has found God Himself.