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The Slavery of Secrets

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John 8:32, “Then you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free.”

In grade school you’d hear it when you and a friend were caught whispering and giggling to each other— “secrets don’t make friends!”  It was a chastising idiom that reminded you to not exclude others.  Because when you lifted your hand to hide your mouth as you whispered into someone’s ear, while throwing glances around to see who was watching, you automatically gave the impression that you were hiding something at best, or at worst, stirring up trouble.

It’s one thing to keep someone’s confidence and trust.  Those kinds of secrets can build relationships and lend silent support when someone who trusts you is going through a challenging time.  But, what I’ve noticed recently about American culture is that we tend to hide too easily.  We are very good, especially in American Christian spheres, about putting on our makeup, our best smiles, and pretending that our lives are perfect while we struggle privately.

And I know why we do it.  We don’t want to look weak.  Sometimes our struggles are too painful and personal to discuss.  Perhaps they are too embarrassing and reveal parts of us that we’d rather not show.  Maybe we know that our problems are not easily fixed or could last a while.  In some cases, we may even secretly enjoy something that we know we shouldn’t enjoy, and speaking of it would require us to acknowledge a sin that the Lord needs to remove from our lives.

The snow has been falling steadily today as I’ve written this.  It collects little by little—just tiny flakes that settle on the ground, lawn chairs and children’s garden toys until they are a nebulous conglomerate of snow that turn recognizable objects into unidentifiable lumps.  It’s hard to know or remember exactly what’s covered up by all the snow.  When the blanket of white is that thick, it can be dangerous to walk around my own backyard because I might stumble over a rock or root that I can’t see anymore.

Secrets can be just like this—they disguise the truth of what’s under the surface.  They cover up our flaws with a pleasant, soft layer which is far more fragile than we want to acknowledge.  They can turn familiar ground into dangerous, sensitive territory.  Sooner or later, they must melt away, and we must acknowledge the raw and real materials left behind.

In the last couple of years, many of my friends have experienced great trials in their marriages and families.  I have grieved with many over the shock and loss of peace in their home, and have rejoiced with others as they’ve experienced restoration that only Jesus can bring to their lives.  But in the moments when they revealed their secrets, two things happened: 1) They talked about loss—loss of peace, safety, security and belief in someone or something.  2)  I felt compassion for them—a need to pray for them and a desire to help in any way that I could.

This is what honesty and openness does—it brings people closer.  It breaks down façades and walls and reminds us that we all struggle.  It provides opportunities for us to show compassion and love.  Being vulnerable is risky, but it also gives us the ability to admire people without idolizing them and assuming they “have it all together.”

And it’s also this openness that shows us how much we need a Savior.  Jesus said in Mark 2:17, “It is not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick.  I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners.”  I am grateful for those people who have allowed me to enter their mess, because it strengthens the bond of community that we have as people who need the healing, restorative work of Jesus.  I’m glad that I don’t believe that lie that anyone is perfect, because then Jesus would be inconsequential and unimportant.  And once we allow Him to shine His light onto our darkest secrets they stop looking so scary and destructive.  They lose their power and we begin to take steps in freedom.  What was once a secret that enslaved us becomes a testimony of hope and deliverance.

This happened for me lately too.  I was keeping something to myself for about a year and a half.  I wrestled with something, prayed about it, tried to pretend it wasn’t a big deal, until I was faced with it again and realized that keeping it private was making the problem bigger than it really was.  I was afraid to confess to my husband, fearing his anger and rejection.  But a beautiful thing happened when my silence began costing my peace—I sincerely asked God for a way out and He gave it to me.  I told my husband about it, in tears, and he showed me compassion and grace.  He prayed for me and comforted me and expressed understanding, not condemnation.  His reaction did two things: 1) it made me more grateful to the Lord and more aware of the power of confession, and 2) it reminded me of why I love my husband so much—he freely offers me the forgiveness of Christ and loves me just as I am.

So, let’s say that your life suddenly changed yesterday, or three months ago, or last week.  Or maybe it will tomorrow, or five months from now because of someone’s poor choices, disregard, sin, negligence, distraction.  Maybe it’s your own problems that got you into a mess.   If you’re tempted to hide and stew over your anger and sadness and shame—don’t.  Let God shine His holy spotlight onto your secret.  I know from experience—it won’t seem as daunting once it’s exposed.  Watch your secrets melt away under the warmth of His love.  You’ll be amazed by the beauty they uncover.

All For One

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Despite sharing surnames, family members can sometimes be so divergent in their lifestyles and opinions, that the only commonality they share is the blood in their veins.   And there are times when you meet someone who has led a very different life than yours, yet the two of you see eye-to-eye on just about everything and even share many interests.  The road to solidarity can be a seamless, easy mystery that just “works,” but it can also be a lengthy and cumbersome one that requires a unifying cause.

This last year has been one of great transition for my extended family.  It became necessary for my grandparents to move from their home of 60 years in the tiny town of Flomaton, Alabama, to an assisted living facility in a nearby city where they can receive better care for their needs.  My father and his three brothers (and my mom and aunts) initially had many discussions over the phone, Facetime and through email about the steps involving moving my grandparents into assisted living, and then again recently when putting their childhood home on the market after it was certain that my grandparents had settled into their new home comfortably.

For me personally, the sale of this house will mean saying farewell to the only home that has remained a fixture in my 38 years of life.  I was raised in an Air Force family that uprooted and moved every three years, and then married a man who possesses the same wanderlust as me.  Throughout my life, I’ve returned to Flomaton from places like England, the Netherlands, from Arizona or Seattle or Luxembourg.  No matter what, that little house on Wilkerson Street had the same scent, the same floor plan with minor changes, the same loud family voices and bodies sprawled on couches and floors, the same prayers and Bible stories and hymns, the same neighbors and even the same casseroles and pies.

Those shared experiences with my relatives and the background of faith and loyalty and love that my grandparents have poured into their sons, their daughters-in-law and every one of their grandchildren, are what have laid the groundwork for solidarity in our family.  As my cousins and my aunts and uncles walked through the house in these last weeks, claiming furniture and quilts and trinkets and dishes, the memories and the lessons they’ve learned in years past poured out of them and reminded us all, even over Facebook, of the legacy that our grandparents bestowed to us, which gives us something to uphold, together, regardless of our political, vocational and lifestyle differences.

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Last week my parents, who have lived in Germany for the past 17 years, worked from sun up to sun down with a few of my aunts and uncles as they combed through each cabinet and drawer of the house on Wilkerson Street.  As they hauled away trash, donated used goods and sold items in a yard sale, people from town both familiar and estranged came around to recall memories of my grandparents and their “boys”.  Relationships were renewed and restored.  They told me about the unexpected help that came from unexpected people who felt that they shared in my family’s story—people who delivered doughnuts, helped carry heavy chairs and even provided encouragement to rest in the shade with laughs and glasses of sweet tea.

Two days ago my mother posted a photo of my father helping my grandfather shave.  I think my whole family was struck by how this photo represented life coming full circle—a son helping his elderly father shave, a father who most certainly showed that son how to hold a razor a very long time ago.  And it spoke to me of the unity in my family, that despite the differences of opinion that we have or the distances between us, just about any one of the men in my family would be at the sink in the bathroom doing the very same for my grandfather—because they love him.  Love helps us see needs around us.  Love compels us to join a hand and give, instead of using that hand to point fingers at who should be doing more.  A time or moment of need is often the very thing that reveals common ground and gives us the opportunity to tread it together—all of us, for one family, one goal, one love.

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My 2017 Mommy-Festo

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I’m a big believer in GRACE.  In the spirit of that, and acknowledging that I could always improve upon some things, I’ve created this 2017 Mommy-Festo.  Perhaps you ladies out there could tweak it to create your own!

This Year I Will:

-Practice patience with my children, but allow myself to step away when I feel overwhelmed.

-Not try to hide my feelings from my children, but recognize that my feelings are not always an accurate indicator of my circumstances.

-Put on make-up, high-heels, and a pretty dress just for me, just because.  But I will not feel guilty on the occasional days when I don’t get out of my PJs.

-Spend more time kissing and complimenting my husband in the presence of our children instead of fighting with him.

-Not dwell on my thoughts when tempted to sin, but take them captive and be transformed by the renewing of my mind.

-Do a better job of meal-planning, while also realizing that my kids will be okay if they eat macaroni and cheese or hot dogs when I’m just not up to it.

-Forgive myself when I have a melt-down, but not wallow in self-pity to the point of missing out on the awesomeness around me.

-Work-out regularly so that I feel well and strong enough to engage in the activities I enjoy, not just because I want to look good, and not because I want to compete with other women.

-Accept the fact that I am getting older, while embracing the season I’m currently enjoying.  Period.  To borrow a line from Kids, one of my favorite new songs by One Republic, “I refuse to look back thinking days were better just because they’re younger days.” Amen.

-Do things that will help me grow even if they make me uncomfortable, but also recognize when it’s time to say no.

-Be gracious, kind, and tolerant to those who are different from me, yet hold firm to my personal convictions.

-Travel to some place I have never been, yet be able to enjoy the bliss of a lazy day at home.

-Give grace to the difficult people in my life, understanding that God and others have extended unmerited grace to me.

-Give sacrificially, and accept gifts gratefully without the feeling that I need to do something to deserve them.

-Not freak out if my house gets dirty, but not allow it to get to the point that I’m embarrassed if people stop by unexpectedly.

-Enjoy having some drinks with my husband, family and friends, but not rely on alcohol as an escape or coping mechanism.

-Learn something new, but appreciate the things that I already know.

-Give myself grace because I don’t have it all together, but be grateful for what God has already done in my life.

-Put my phone down and be more present in the moments while finding a way to realistically and healthfully manage an increasingly automated lifestyle.

-Not retaliate and enable bitterness to take root in my heart when encountering toxic people.  Instead, I will ask God to help me know when to try or walk away.

-Take risks in business, yet recognize when those risks are poorly timed or unwise.

-Leave some margin for the unexpected moments that take my breath away, whether those moments are good or bad.

-Not gossip about my husband, friends or family, and be honest about my own short-comings.

-Forgive others quickly and apologize even more quickly.

-Set aside more time for focused prayer and Bible reading while accepting that my Father is present and loves me even when I’m distracted.

-Accept help graciously and offer assistance when I have the available resources, without talking myself out of it.

-Honor my commitments but not over-book my calendar.

Which of these resonated with you?  I’d love to hear about it.  Happy New Year everyone–may this year be one of blessing, renewal, forgiveness and joy! Cheers!

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