Sneaking here, sneaking there, driving cars fast, and throwing caution to the wind—my high school years were not pretty.
I slipped past the traffic laws a few times. Policemen recognized my unusual surname and asked if I was related to the local mayor. Chatting amicably, they bequeathed me a smiling admonishment and asked me to tell my father “Hello.” I thought not. Years later, I confessed my deception—when my madcap past lay buried and I was certain he would chuckle instead of lecture.
I think of the secrets we hide so well. We pretend to skate along just fine when we barely hold it all together. We shroud our shaky faith in a pious stance, or fake a thousand-watt smile to cover our anxiety, our financial crisis, or our failing marriage. We hide the cracks from our friends, our children, and often our spouses. We ignore the “thin ice” signs.
Instead, for self-protection, we plow deep into a snowbank of pretense—because previous hurts run deep or because we fear what others will think of the truth. Or maybe we ingest the hissing lie: “Everyone else seems to handle life just fine. What’s wrong with you?”
But at other times, we freeze into a statue of rooted stubbornness declaring, “I don’t need God. I can handle this myself, thank you very much.” So we suffer in silence while God watches with sadness, yearning to deliver us from our woes.
When life steals our peace and sanity, we should admit we need help. Our Lord waits patiently with the refuge we need. No more secrets. No more faking fine. Just a learning to taste, see, and trust in a good God who cares.
Don’t try to fake fine when you’re not.
(Photo courtesy of pixabay.)
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