As Sick as My Secrets

I remember that day well. To put it simply, I was terrified. For the first time in my life, I’d taken an honest look at my character, and now I was getting ready to admit to the deep forms of selfishness that had been the chief activators of my drinking.

This process was part of the biblical principle that I knew about, but had never practiced—that of admitting my faults to someone in the hopes of gaining insight and relief from the anger, fear, guilt, and shame that I’d accumulated over my lifetime. Thousands of years before that day, under the inspiration of God, James had urged, “Therefore confess your sins to each other and pray for each other so that you may be healed.” James 5:16 (NIV). But who does that anymore? I kept thinking. Well, the desperate ones, I suppose. And I was.

As I wrote down those things I’d tried to hide, I realized that I’d been very much the actor that tries to run the whole show. I’d looked at those I resented, why I resented them, how they’d affected me, and what my part was—yes, my part—and much to my dismay, I found I had a part in every one of them—even if it was simply my refusal to forgive.

I looked at my fears, too, and why I had them. I found that most of them could be traced back to fear of losing something I already had, or not getting something I really wanted.

And then there were those things I felt guilty and ashamed of. Things I swore I’d never talk about, and hoped to take to my grave.

So here I was, with my best friend in recovery, sitting in his back yard. He’d brought out three lawn chairs and I’d promptly sat down and put my feet up on the one across from me. As he sat down, he glanced over and said, “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” I stammered, quickly putting my feet on the ground, but he shook his head and said, “No, I don’t care about the lawn chair. It’s just that God will be sitting there.”

Are you kidding me? That’s so lame! I thought. But the reality of his words suddenly struck home and a shiver went down my spine. Not only was I about to admit to the exact nature of my wrongs to another human being, but to God, also!

Before we started, I prayed for clarity and honesty, and then that man prayed for God to give me courage, as well. His prayer touched my heart, and with a deep breath, I began to share. The resentments were fairly easy to talk about. Lots of people had done things I didn’t like, and I could justify my anger at least, even though my behavior had crossed the line many times. I tried minimizing my bad behavior, but my friend knew me too well, and his questions always brought me back to my hurt pride and ambitions, and how my resentments had affected my relationships with others. But then came the questions about my part. Where had I been selfish, dishonest, self-seeking, and fearful? Had I caused or contributed to those resentments? Slowly, I began seeing myself in a different light. I realized that while I hadn’t always caused the problem, I’d often placed myself in a position to be hurt. That put things in a new light.

Next, I shared my fears, and again, I saw my selfishness. Over the years, my biggest fear had been the fear of what other people thought of me—how self-centered is that? Fear had kept me from forming true and lasting relationships with anyone, and I’d tried in vain to be whatever they wanted me to be.

When it came to sharing the things I felt guilty and ashamed of, I just didn’t have the courage to tell the whole truth. But every time I was tempted to gloss over the facts, I realized I was staring at that “empty” lawn chair in front of me. You can’t lie in the presence of God! I thought, and the truth came tumbling out.

We’re only as sick as our secrets, and as I unburdened my soul, I felt a tremendous sense of relief and a healing tranquility came over me. I realized that nothing I said seemed to surprise my friend, or even cause him to wince. In fact, he interrupted to tell me some of the same things I was talking about—and my story was no worse than his!

That day I joined the human race. I realized I was no worse than anyone else, and I was set free from my past. My friend assured me that while he could not forgive me for those things, God could and would if I asked Him to. That brought to mind 1 John 1:9, that says, “If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.”

I’ve been through this process with many other men over the past 32 years. I’ve watched them struggle to be honest, then seen their faces transform as they embrace the time-tested biblical practice of confession. I will never forget the man who listened to me and loved me even more for trusting him with my very worst, and I will never forget the day I felt the full impact of God’s grace and mercy in my life. God’s love has transformed me, and I have been set free from the guilt and shame of my past. I will never have to drink over those things again!