Honesty, according to the dictionary, is defined as freedom from deceit or fraud.
Freedom. What would that look like? Feel like? Think about that for a moment. How many of us are truly honest? How many of us are truly free? How many of us hold onto the lies we tell ourselves? I know I do. I’m not free of the walls I’ve built to protect myself. To hide my fear of being left alone and not good enough. Walls built out of insecurity and shame. Walls that now imprison me.
Honesty is a hard thing. Honesty can be risky. I’m afraid of being hurt, misinterpreted, judged, being needy. Yes. Being needy. I. Am. Needy. And I don’t like it! Anybody that knows me, really knows me, can tell you that’s a hard thing for me to say. But I am needy. I need someone to know me. All of me. I need someone to love me no matter how insecure, afraid, or ashamed I am. Because hiding beneath all of the baggage is someone beautiful. Someone worth knowing everything about.
I’m blessed that I have a husband who is willing to wade through all the muck with me. Patient enough to put up with my insecurities and to help me face things honestly, without the crutches of deceit and fraud. To show me that I don’t have to live with the lies I’ve come to believe about myself and to depend on for survival. To love me even though sometimes honesty is a messy thing.
How much more does Christ love us? He knows. He knows everything about us and loves us anyway. Enough that he took that knowledge to the cross in order to give us our freedom. He saw all of our insecurity, all of our shame, all of our heartache and all of our need and made a way for us to tear down those walls. He desires for us to be honest. Desires to know us intimately. Desires us to know Him. He sees beauty in our ashes and strength in our weakness.