DARING TO BE REAL: THE POWER OF CONSECRATED HONESTY
"God can't heal what we conceal."
These six words of pastor Jeremiah Johnson have been working their way through my heart, challenging me to examine the authenticity of my faith journey in ways both uncomfortable and necessary.
Recently, while studying through Matthew's Gospel, I found myself confronted with an uncomfortable truth about my own heart. For years, I had completely cut off contact with certain family members who I perceived as entitled and demanding of my time. On the surface, I justified this decision as "setting healthy boundaries." But as I read Jesus' words about caring for "the least of these," the Holy Spirit held up a mirror to my soul.
The truth was harder to face: I hadn't distanced myself for healthy reasons—I had done it because these family members threatened my carefully constructed image of being nice and available. Their requests exposed my inability to say no, and rather than dealing with that weakness in myself, I eliminated the people who triggered it. The irony wasn't lost on me. In my world, these relatives were truly "the least of these"—they had no other family, no one who really cared about them. And instead of seeing them through Christ's eyes, I saw them as obstacles to my self-image.
This was the painful revelation: fear had made a part of me ugly—a part I had kept hidden from the light of truth. I had been concealing it not just from others, but from myself.
Biblical Truth: When We Hide Behind Christian Masks
Most of us are familiar with the passage in Matthew 25 where Jesus describes the Final Judgment. He separates people like sheep and goats—those who fed the hungry, gave drink to the thirsty, welcomed strangers, clothed the naked, and visited the imprisoned from those who did not. What strikes me most about this scripture isn't just the criteria Jesus uses, but the reaction of those on His left.
"Lord, when did we see you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or naked or sick or in prison, and did not minister to you?"
They're genuinely shocked. They didn't see themselves as the "bad guys" in the story. They likely saw themselves as we often do—as good people, saved people, people who attend church and know the right things to say.
So did the Pharisees and Sadducees.
Jesus's words in Matthew 25 on the Final Judgment aren't about finding another thing to condemn ourselves with—that's not His point. It's about asking a harder question in our spiritual journey: Is there any part of me wearing a mask? Am I playing at being the person I want others to think I am, rather than allowing God to transform who I actually am?
Honesty Checks: One way I search my heart comes from Paul's instruction in Romans 12:3: "For by the grace given to me I say to everyone among you not to think of himself more highly than he ought to think, but to think with sober judgment..." It’s that sober judgement part that we often ignore. I ask myself in a given moment that calls for it: How vulnerable do I feel I can be here? How honest? If I don't feel I can be authentic, I've often uncovered my idol and my mask. This isn't about blurting everything out without wisdom—it's about examining what I’m attempting to manage in a given moment.
Spiritual Discernment: Checking Boxes While Missing the Heart
We're experts at building elaborate facades in our Christian walk. We invest our lives in church programs, ministries, and mission trips—all good things that can easily become checkboxes on our spiritual résumés. We do this to ensure we're not found on the wrong side of Jesus’ dividing line.
"I was hungry and you gave me no food."
But I donate to the food bank every Christmas.
"I was thirsty and you gave me no drink."
But I sponsored that water well in Africa.
"I was a stranger and you did not welcome me."
But I greeted three new families at church last Sunday.
"I was naked and you did not clothe me."
But I sorted clothes at the donation center last month.
We're so busy managing perceptions that we rarely stop to look in the mirror and ask: What's my motive in my faith practices? Am I serving to be seen, or am I serving because I genuinely see the person in front of me as bearing the image of Christ?
Much of this threat to our faith was built because we were taught how to behave before we were taught the way. We prioritized function and form over substance and transformation. In many of our spiritual communities, we learned the external expectations—what good Christians do, say, and look like—long before we understood the heart of Christ's teaching. We mastered the choreography of faith without internalizing its music.
There's something in our hearts that needs exposure through prayer and reflection. We cannot experience spiritual healing for what we will not acknowledge.
Authentic Faith: Where Consecration and Honesty Collide
Imagine a Church where we no longer exhaust ourselves maintaining images but instead pour that energy into genuine love for God and neighbor. Where we're not afraid to admit our struggles because we know grace is sufficient. Where we don't serve to be seen but because we truly see the worth of every person we encounter.
This is the place where consecration and honesty collide in Christian life—where we are set apart for God's purposes because we're honest enough to let Him work with who we really are, not who we wish we were.
In this place of spiritual transformation, the words of Jesus about the Final Judgment don't terrify us—they guide us. We don't feed the hungry to avoid judgment; we feed them because we recognize Christ in them. We don't welcome strangers to earn points; we welcome them because we were once strangers ourselves, welcomed by grace.
prophetic warning: The Signs of the times & The Season of Consecration
I believe we're in an hour of consecration for the Church. God is tearing down facades, and each of us faces a choice in our faith journey: Will we repent and allow Him to rebuild us according to His design? Or will we scramble to pick up the pieces of our carefully constructed image and glue them back together?
The signs of the times in Christian discipleship are clear:
Exposure: What has been hidden is being revealed—not to shame us, but to free us through spiritual vulnerability.
Repentance: A turning away from the old patterns of perception management toward the vulnerability of honest faith.
Consecration: Setting ourselves apart for God's purposes rather than our own glory.
This is the destruction of the idols we've made of ourselves and others. It's the painful but necessary work of allowing God to chisel away at our false selves until what remains is authentic, if imperfect.
Christian Growth: The Fruit of Honest Faith
When we allow God to heal what we've concealed, the fruit of spiritual transformation is unmistakable:
The fear of man withers away. We no longer live in constant anxiety about what others think of us because we're secure in how God sees us—fully known and fully loved. This fear is rooted in idolatry—we've elevated others' opinions to a place that only God should occupy in our spiritual lives. We measure our worth by their approval rather than by God's unchanging love.
When their perception becomes our reality, we've given them a throne that belongs to God alone. True consecration dismantles these idols, freeing us to live for an audience of One.Honesty returns to our daily Christian walk. We can admit our struggles, confess our sins, and speak truth in love because we're no longer performing.
We make space for "the least of these"—not just those we've deemed worthy of our time and attention, but those God has deemed worthy of His Son's sacrifice. Biblical teaching guides us to see with new eyes the hungry, thirsty, strange, and naked among us.
This isn't about a new checklist of right-looking things. It's about a heart transformation that changes how we see and respond to the world around us.
Prayer for Spiritual Authenticity: An Invitation to the Holy Spirit
If these words about spiritual healing resonate with you, I invite you to join me in this prayer:
Holy Spirit, I invite You to search my heart. Show me where I've been more concerned with appearing right than being real. Reveal the masks I wear in my walk of faith—even the religious ones—and give me the courage to set them aside. I want to be known by You, not for the person I pretend to be, but for who I truly am. Heal what I've concealed. Transform me from the inside out through biblical truth, so that when I serve others, it flows from a heart aligned with Yours rather than a desire to be seen and approved. Amen.
God can't heal what we conceal. But when we bring our whole selves—the good, the bad, and the ugly—into His light, spiritual healing isn't just possible. It's promised through authentic faith.
What did this blog bring up in you? Let’s talk about it. Leave a comment in the section below. I read every single one of them.
READ MORE: This post is part of our ongoing When Faith Stops Being Honest series exploring biblical authenticity and spiritual transformation.
