Latest / Jo Watson: Unfiltered Faith / The Secrets We Carry And The God Who Meets Us There
Transcript
- Jo Watson: Welcome back to Unfiltered Faith. I'm Joe Watson and it's time to breathe. Time to slow down. Time to let your shoulders drop and time to step into the sanctuary. Not the sanctuary we're all so familiar with, but the one that God is building inside you. This is the space where we peel back the layers, silence the noise, and meet God in the raw places we usually hide. Today, We're going somewhere tender. We're talking about secrets. The ones we bury, the ones we protect, and the ones we feel too heavy to carry alone. Not the scandalous kind, not the tabloid kind, but the quiet ones, the ones that shape us, the ones that haunt us, the ones God has already seen, but still calls us beloved. Our letter this morning is from Andrea. This is what Andrea wrote for I always feel like my life is about apologizing, apologizing for taking up space, apologizing for walking with soft steps, apologizing for a quiet voice, and apologizing for a careful smile. People call me gentle, people call me kind, and they always call me the strong one. But no one knows the secret I carry, a secret. That makes it hard for me to get out of bed in the morning and hard to breathe at night. It started years ago. A moment I never told anyone about. A moment that broke something inside me so quietly I didn't notice the hurt at first. But those breaks have a way of widening over time. My secret isn't dramatic. It isn't the kind that makes headlines. It's the kind that makes me doubt myself. It makes me question my worth, and it shrinks my confidence. I was hurt. By someone, someone I knew and trusted. Not in a way that left bruises, but in a way that left questions. Was it my fault? Did I misread the moment? Did I invite it? Does it even count as harm if I didn't fight back? I've tried to bury these questions, tried to pretend it wasn't as bad as I remember. But the thing about secrets is they don't stay buried. The hurt has followed me into every relationship, every prayer, every mirror. I've learned to smile through it, serve through it, worship through it. But it's just so hard to let it go, or even talk about it. I'm sending you this letter because while it's hard for me to talk about it, writing about it makes me feel like someone hears me. Andrea, thank you for your letter. And Andrea, I'm so sorry you've carried this alone, and I'm sorry about the pain that it's caused you. Every secret has a weight. Some feel like pebbles in our pocket, others feel like boulders strapped to our chest. And here's the truth we rarely admit. Most secrets aren't about shame, they're about survival. We hide because we're protecting a younger version of ourselves. We hide because we don't want to be misunderstood. We hide because vulnerability feels like handing someone the blueprint to our wounds. But God God doesn't flinch at the things we hide. He doesn't recoil. He doesn't withdraw. He draws near. Psalms 34 18 says The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit. Not the polished, not the perfect, the brokenhearted, the crushed. Your secrets don't scare him, they summon him. And here's where we need to tell the truth gently. Keeping secrets doesn't just protect us, it shapes us. Secrets create emotional distance. They build small rooms inside the soul where we sit alone, even when we're surrounded by people who love us. Secrets create stress in our body. tight chest, restless nights, the constant hum of vigilance. They distort identity because when you hide something long enough, you start shaping your life around the hiding. Secrets erode relationships, not because anyone discovers the secret, but because you begin to show up edited, show up guarded, and show up Have present. And the deepest harm is our secrets delay our healing. They protect the wound from ever being treated. Andrea, when we keep secrets from people, that's understandable. But when we keep secrets from ourselves, when we refuse to name what hurts, that's where the soul begins to fracture. Hiding creates disconnection from God, from others, and from our own truth. Hiding creates hypervigilance, causing us to always be managing the narrative. Hiding creates isolation, even in rooms full of people. And hiding creates spiritual exhaustion because pretending is a full time job. But here's the sacred invitation. God doesn't ask you to expose everything. He asks you to stop pretending you're not hurting. There's a difference between privacy and secrecy. Privacy protects, secrecy suffocates. Scripture talks about the secret place, the hidden sanctuary where God meets us. But many of us have confused the secret place with the secret self. The secret place is where God heals, the secret self is where we hide. One is holy, one is heavy. And the enemy loves when we mix the two, because if he can convince us that our wounds belong in the dark, he can keep us from the God who heals in the light. So, how do we begin to release the secrets that have shaped us? We start by one, naming the truth without narrating it. You don't have to tell the whole story. You just have to stop lying to yourself about what hurts. Two, invite God into the room where you've locked the door, not with eloquence, not with speech, just with honesty. God, I don't know how to talk about this yet, but I'm tired of carrying it alone. Three, share with one safe person, and remember that. Not everyone deserves access to your healing, but someone does. Healing accelerates in community. God loves you, Andrea, and you are more whole than you feel, more loved than you believe, more resilient than you realize. More seen than you've ever admitted. God has never been confused about who you are, even when you've been confused about who you're becoming. Let's pray. Father in heaven, meet us in the quiet places, in the s the secrets we've carried, in the wounds we've hidden, in the truth we're just now learning to name. Hold our hearts gently, heal what's been heavy, and remind us that nothing we carry is too small or too deep for your love. Amen. As we close today, I want you to breathe. Slow, deep, present. And I want you to hear this. Your secrets don't disqualify you. They humanize you. They soften you. They make you reachable. They make you real. And in the kingdom of God, real is where revival begins. Thank you for joining me today on Unfiltered Faith. If this episode met you in a tender place, you're not alone. You're held. You're seen. And you're safe here. And if you are struggling with the weight of a secret you've been holding, this episode is not a substitution for professional therapy or pastoral guidance. Please seek the help you need. And until next time, unfiltered faith, God is moving, so stay ready.