What do you keep hidden?
Maybe it’s the stack of papers you swoop out of sight when people come over, or the plans you have for a surprise party, or a mistake you made at work.
Maybe it’s a Christmas present, or something you’re embarrassed about, or the number of hours you serve at church.
Maybe it’s wonderful news you want to treasure because you’re just not ready to share, or the part of the story you don’t want to tell because it feels way too risky.
The things we hide come in all shapes and sizes. Some are happy surprises. But secrets are something else. We tend to keep secrets because we’re afraid.
Afraid of what people will think.
Afraid of what God might require.
Afraid of losing control.
Secrecy does give us some degree of temporary control - until the thing we’re hiding begins to careen out of control. That “harmless” habit becomes an addiction. The hidden concerns you’ve had about your church start to snowball into something darker. The lines you’ve crossed begin to entangle you, overpowering over you. And you find yourself not only alone in your secret, but alone… period.
Secrecy leaves us isolated, disconnected from the people who care about us, from a God who loves us, and even from ourselves. And that’s a really lonely way to live.
What would it mean to trust someone—even just one safe person—with your secrets or the gnawing fears of your heart?
It’s a scary proposition - especially when the power of your secret has gotten stronger and scarier (which it always will). But it’s a risk worth taking. Just as the power of a secret gets stronger and scarier in the dark, the inverse is also true: secrets grow weaker and a little less scary in the light of a friend’s loving care and perspective.
They say that you’re only as sick as your secrets.
What if you’re only as healthy as you are known?