The Things We Are Afraid to Tell God About Ourselves

Chapter 1: The Conversation You've Been Avoiding

There is a moment when you finally find yourself alone, perhaps sitting on the edge of your bed after everyone else has gone to sleep, and something you've been trying not to think about comes back into your mind. You reach for your phone, hoping to distract yourself, but nothing holds your attention. You know what is bothering you. There's something you've done, something you've allowed to continue, or something you've been telling yourself isn't as serious as it really is. You haven't spoken honestly about it to anyone, and lately you've even found yourself avoiding certain things in prayer. You still believe in God. You still want to follow Jesus. But there's a part of your life you keep carefully hidden, as though refusing to speak about it might somehow make it less real.

I've been thinking about that private struggle while reflecting on the woman caught in adultery and her encounter with Jesus in John 8. In my accompanying YouTube message, I explore what that encounter may have felt like from the woman's perspective, using Scripture as the foundation while imagining the emotions she might have experienced. But here, I want to talk about something quieter. I want to talk about what happens inside a person who knows they've done something wrong and begins withdrawing from the very relationship with God that could help them confront it.

There's a connection between her encounter and the quiet struggle to approach Jesus when you feel unworthy of His compassion. Sometimes we become convinced that we need to get our lives together before we can approach God honestly. We imagine that if we could just stop making certain mistakes, become more disciplined, or somehow feel less ashamed, then we could finally pray without embarrassment. But that thinking creates a difficult situation. We're trying to solve our deepest spiritual struggles while keeping them hidden from the One whose mercy we desperately need.

I wonder how many people experience that without ever telling another person.

You might continue attending church, reading Scripture, and doing everything people expect from you. You may be the dependable person in your family, the one everyone calls when they need something. Yet privately, there's a decision you regret or a pattern of behavior you haven't confronted.

Maybe you've been dishonest with someone who trusts you. Perhaps you've allowed resentment toward a family member to grow until you can barely speak kindly about them. Maybe you've been seeking comfort through something you know is damaging your relationships or pulling you away from the life you want to live.

Whatever it is, you've developed ways of keeping it separate from the rest of your life.

That's one of the strange things about shame. It can convince us that hiding is safer than honesty, even when hiding is slowly exhausting us.

The woman in John 8 didn't have the opportunity to decide when her wrongdoing would be exposed. The scribes and Pharisees brought her before Jesus while He was teaching in the temple. They placed her before the gathered people and described the adultery in which she had been caught.

Scripture doesn't tell us what she was thinking. We don't know her personal history, what circumstances surrounded her actions, or what she felt as the accusation was made. We should be careful not to fill those unknown details with assumptions.

But we do know that she was standing before Jesus while others were using her wrongdoing to test Him.

John 8:6 explains that the religious leaders were attempting to find grounds for accusing Jesus. Their purpose extended beyond confronting the woman's sin.

Jesus responded in an unexpected way.

He stooped and wrote on the ground. When the questioning continued, He said, “He that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone at her” (John 8:7, KJV).

One by one, the accusers departed.

Eventually, Jesus addressed the woman directly and asked whether anyone had condemned her.

She answered, “No man, Lord.”

Then He said, “Neither do I condemn thee: go, and sin no more” (John 8:11, KJV).

I keep returning to those words because they hold together two truths that we often separate.

Jesus showed mercy, and Jesus called her to change.

He didn't ask her to pretend nothing had happened. He didn't suggest that sin was unimportant. But He also didn't treat her wrongdoing as a reason to abandon the possibility of repentance.

For someone who has been avoiding honest prayer, that distinction matters.

Sometimes we're afraid to approach God because we've confused confession with humiliation. We imagine that acknowledging our failures means being reduced to nothing more than those failures.

But biblical confession is not about informing God of something He doesn't already know. It's about becoming truthful before Him and turning away from what is wrong.

First John 1:9 says, “If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins, and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.”

That promise is not permission to continue hurting people. God's forgiveness calls us toward repentance, responsibility, and a changed life.

But it does mean that hiding from God is not the answer to our spiritual struggles.

Think about someone who has been carrying a secret financial problem. Perhaps they've borrowed money without telling their spouse, allowed unpaid bills to accumulate, or concealed spending that has placed their family under pressure.

At first, they may have believed they could solve everything before anyone discovered the truth. They intended to pay the money back or repair the damage quietly.

But the problem grew.

Eventually, even prayer became uncomfortable because they knew what needed to be addressed and were frightened of the consequences.

The faithful next step might involve confessing the truth to God, speaking honestly with their spouse, seeking financial guidance, and accepting responsibility for rebuilding trust.

None of that guarantees an easy outcome.

The conversation may be painful. Trust may take years to restore. Some consequences may remain.

Yet honesty creates the possibility of meaningful change where concealment allows the problem to continue.

I think that is worth considering when we reflect on the woman standing before Jesus.

Her encounter wasn't an invitation to ignore what she had done. It was an encounter in which Jesus refused to join her accusers in condemnation while speaking directly to the need for a different life.

Maybe you've been praying carefully lately, choosing words that sound faithful while avoiding the subject that troubles you most.

Perhaps it's time to stop treating prayer as a conversation in which you must present only the parts of yourself that seem acceptable.

You can tell God where you've been dishonest. You can acknowledge the resentment you've been feeding, the harmful choices you've been defending, or the responsibility you've been avoiding.

And you can ask Him to help you take the next faithful step, even when that step requires courage you don't feel you possess.

The mercy of Jesus is not something we need to manipulate into existence by finding the perfect words. His compassion is part of who He is.

And when we begin approaching Him truthfully, we may discover that the conversation we've been avoiding is the very place where repentance and healing need to begin.

Chapter 2: When You Stop Hiding and Begin Living Honestly

You sit across from someone you love, listening as they explain why they're hurt. You know some of what they're saying is true, but you feel the familiar urge to defend yourself. You want them to understand how difficult things have been for you. You want to explain the pressures you were under and why you made the decisions you made. Yet somewhere in the conversation, you recognize that explaining your circumstances will not change the fact that your actions caused pain. You have a choice to make about whether you're going to protect your pride or begin taking responsibility.

I believe this is one of the quiet places where following Jesus becomes real. We can spend years learning Scripture and speaking about forgiveness while still struggling to admit when we've hurt someone. But repentance asks something of us. It invites us to stop defending what we know was wrong and begin making room for a different way of living.

When Jesus told the woman in John 8 to go and sin no more, He directed her toward a future that required change. We don't know what she did afterward, but His words remind us that mercy is not the end of our responsibility. It's an invitation to respond to God's goodness with honesty and obedience.

Perhaps you've been carrying something privately because you're frightened of what will happen when you acknowledge it. Maybe an apology is overdue, a damaging habit needs attention, or you've been avoiding an uncomfortable truth about yourself.

You don't have to solve every consequence in a single day. Some problems require time, wise guidance, and difficult conversations. But you can begin by becoming honest before God about what needs to change.

There is also an important difference between healthy conviction and the kind of shame that convinces you there is no hope. Conviction leads us toward repentance and responsibility. Destructive shame can leave us hiding, afraid that admitting the truth will mean losing whatever dignity we have left.

Jesus did not tell the woman that her wrongdoing was acceptable. He called her away from sin while refusing to join those demanding her condemnation.

That combination of truth and mercy matters for the person who has been quietly avoiding God.

Maybe tonight, when the house becomes still again, you can allow yourself to pray without carefully arranging every word. You can acknowledge what you've done, ask for forgiveness, and seek the strength to take responsibility for whatever comes next.

And if you've already confessed, repented, and begun changing, perhaps you also need to stop treating every difficult memory as proof that God's mercy cannot reach you.

You may still have relationships to repair and consequences to face. People may need time before they trust you again. But those realities do not make sincere repentance meaningless.

I hope you'll remember that Jesus Christ does not require you to pretend you're without sin before you seek His mercy. He calls you to come into the truth and allow that truth to shape the life you're living.

The conversation you've been avoiding may be difficult, but you don't have to continue hiding from the One who already knows you and still calls you toward a different future.

Your friend, Douglas Vandergraph

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