Meanwhile, when the crowd gathered by the thousands, so that they trampled on one another, [Jesus] began to speak first to his disciples, “Beware of the yeast of the Pharisees, that is, their hypocrisy. 2 Nothing is covered up that will not be uncovered, and nothing secret that will not become known. 3 Therefore whatever you have said in the dark will be heard in the light, and what you have whispered behind closed doors will be proclaimed from the housetops. – Luke 12:1-3
We’ve always told our kids to tell the truth no matter what.
When my six-year-old son in a moment of truth telling belted out that the deviled eggs I had made for an Easter gathering some weeks ago had Miralax on them, I questioned this parental policy.
It was true, of course. My three-year-old, Sam, who lately has taken to cooking with me, had grabbed an open container of the white laxative powder we regularly put in her juice and in one moment of inspiration poured Miralax over a tray of newly prepared deviled eggs. I had turned just in time to catch her in the act, so that what could have been a small mountain of Miralax proved more of a dusting. I had summarily wiped off what I could and decided this would be our little “secret.”
My son, in addition to telling the truth, sees and hears everything, however. So it was that as friends stood round a delicate china platter of daintily arranged, paprika-sprinkled eggs, sinking their teeth into the yellow filling with praise for my recipe, my son found it a fitting time to announce loudly and matter-of factly, “Those deviled eggs have Miralax on them.”
What we have kept hidden in the dark will come to light, Jesus says. Sunday’s sermon delivered by Thomas Daniel (Kairos Church) was a challenging and frightening reminder that we lie to ourselves if we think our secrets, those things known only to us (be they sins, addictions or places of sickness and brokenness) won’t affect the rest of our life or stay secret forever. God knows these things, and God wants us to know that they not only matter but make us who we are; and, God wants us to have the courage to tell our secrets so we can be healed. Coming on the heels of the death of Brennan Manning, who embodied this kind of humble transparency, the sermon convicted me of my own tendencies to hide from others those things that keep me from being truly free. (You can hear the sermon here.)
And in the light of the resurrection, maybe the announcement of even our worst secrets will one day usher in laughter, much like my son’s admission that day. We all chuckled, even if the Miralax deviled eggs suddenly seemed less appealing. God’s promise of new, fully restored life means that even the things that most embarrass, shame or guilt-trip us, or serve as hidden thorns in our sides, will one day fall away with the sound of our own laughter- the laughter of those redeemed.