Midnight Confession: I Lied When I Said I Was Ok

I despise it. I don’t respect it. I lose all trust anytime someone does it to me. Ironically, I’ve become pretty good at it…

Lying.

I developed a reputation as an avid liar and “bad boy” when I was in school. Mind you, it was third grade, and “bad boy” was just a way authority figures would describe me. It certainly wasn’t like Fonzi from Happy Days, or Marty McFly from Back to the Future. Nope. I was just a regular kid who loved to lie. In all reality, I didn’t love lying. I loved protecting myself.

Looking back, I realize I was trying to protect myself from getting into trouble with my parents. If my teacher wanted to give me a yellow or red “bear stamp” (meaning I had a bad day), I would lie and say I didn’t have my agenda. If I had a particularly bad day at school, I’d get sent home with a note. I’d conveniently lose the note between the classroom and the car. I didn’t want to face the consequences of my actions. I was protecting myself.

Thank God, I recovered from a life of such torrid crime. I developed a conscience, and throughout my teenage years, I could barely keep anything a secret. Apparently, I’ve regressed.

Despite how much I hate lying, I prove myself to be a hypocrite. I find myself lying a lot when people ask me how I’m doing. I’ve been doing it for years. Believe me, I want to tell the truth, but often I don’t feel like I can.

My thought process is simple, yet diverse: They’re only asking because that’s how you say “hello” nowadays. Some people don’t actually want to know how you’re doing. If they did, they probably wouldn’t have the time to hear it all or know how to help. I don’t want to be an added burden. Other people have it so much worse than I do. I need to suck it up and figure it out on my own. It’s the same issue as the last time they asked me. They’ll just be tired of hearing the same thing over and over again.

Sometimes I feel I’m living in a religion that idolizes happiness.

So, I lie. I say “I’m good.” Or, probably worse, I tell a half-truth. “I’m…ok.” Honestly, even in the moments I do tell someone what I’m struggling with, I feel an immense amount of pressure in the Christian world to finish it with a “but God will work it out.” It feels as though I’m trying to give them an “out” of the conversation. Maybe I’m attempting to help take the burden off their shoulders?

Sometimes I feel I’m living in a religion that idolizes happiness – to the point that anything short of it is sinful. Suddenly, my sorrow, my doubt, my anger become evidence that something must be wrong with my faith. That in order to be a “good” Christian, I need to have a smile on my face and always say the right things. It’s exhausting.

It’s what makes the Bible confusing sometimes. Isaiah 53 calls Jesus a man who was “well acquainted with sorrow”. That terminology indicates deep awareness…an intimacy, if you will, with sadness. He experienced it. He bore it. He sat in it. To become well acquainted with something means you forsake the right of neglecting it. Jesus embodied suffering. Why then is the pressure to be anything but well acquainted with grief so strong?

I can only answer for myself. It’s the same reason I lied in the third grade: I’m protecting myself. This time, I’m protecting myself from shame, rejection, and from being a burden. It gives me a place to hide. Ultimately, Jesus doesn’t want us to hide. There’s no shame or condemnation (Romans 8) when we’re hurting. Running from the uncomfortable things in life is actually the exact opposite of what Jesus wants for us.

I could tie this up in a pretty bow, but this topic needs to sit in the tension. I guess if there’s any encouragement I could offer based on my story, it’s this: Don’t lie. Stop saying you’re fine when you’re actually drowning. Keep telling people. Don’t turn inward. Jesus loves you. He understands suffering. He knows what a bad day is. Don’t give up. By being the ones who adopt this lifestyle, we can slowly change the culture. It’s going to be painful, but awareness of the problem is only the first step. I’m going to try to make this change. Will you join me?

Midnight Prayer

God, I can’t keep up the facade.
It’s breaking all around me, and I’m terrified.

Please help me find someone who I can be honest with, and who can help me through this pain.

Amen.

Need Prayer?

Feel free to drop a comment below and share your story. I want to know how I can pray for you. I’m also here to listen. You can email me at Matthew.bmalin@gmail.com, or leave a comment below.

You are loved.

You are valued.