1 Corinthians 6:12 "All things are lawful for me," but not all things are helpful. "All things are lawful for me," but I will not be dominated by anything.
Freedom is real, but it is not reckless. Some of the choices we have may be technically permissible yet still pull us apart from God’s best. Sexual immorality begins with the lie that "no one will know" and ends with a soul fractured by shame. Whether or not someone else knows what you're doing, you know, and God knows.
There is no darkness deep enough to hide from His gaze (Psalm 139:12).
There is no secret chamber in your heart that escapes His gentle, searching light.
The moment you click, swipe, or linger, two witnesses stand in the room: your conscience and your Creator. Sin thrives in the dark. It grows roots in secrecy, wrapping shame around the heart like ivy on a crumbling wall. Choose wisely. Find someone mature, discreet, and walking with Jesus. And be specific. "I looked at pornography last night" is a more healing statement than "I have some issues." Confession opens the door to intercession. Faith-filled prayer works; it moves mountains, mends fractures, restores joy.
Today’s Reflection
What sin have you confessed to God but never to another person?
Today, while serving in the Kairos prison ministry I shared a talk that included a personal story about a vulnerable moment in my life. Following that I was considering what sort of talk I might feel comfortable sharing certain personal stories that I've never shared in the context of "church".
Fact of the matter is, there are some very private moments that have occurred in my life that I've only ever confessed to the Lord. Which I find interesting since The Lord is our ultimate judge, omnipresent, and perfectly capable of making our lives a living hell. Yet we'll commit these offenses against God while going out of our way to avoid sharing with friends and acquaintances.
I can stand before men in a convicted man's garb, and tell a story I’d never breathe of in a sanctuary. And I know that the room wouldn’t flinch. No one will gasp. They'll nod, because every soul in that place knows the weight of a secret kept too long, and hidden sin is a plain reality there.
That private sharing moment wouldn’t be about shock value. Because in that place it's about trust: trust in the One who already knows, and trust in the brothers He places around the Kairos family table.
The Irony of Selective Confession:
We'll whisper the ugliest truth to the God who sees galaxies form, and then zip our lips around the guy who hands us coffee on Sunday. Why?
Fear of man > fear of God.
And God is about grace and mercy. And shame screams louder than grace. Control feels safer than surrender.
Those men at Kairos aren’t judging your past; they’re celebrating your courage. They’ve sat where you sat. They’ve hidden what you’ve hidden. When you speak your unspeakables, you give them permission to do the same.
That’s how the chain breaks.
One story.
One circle.
One prayer.
Lord, You know the vault in my heart labeled "Never Share." Give me one person; safe, steady, Spirit-filled, who can hear it without flinching.
Let my confession become their courage, and their prayer become my healing. Turn my silence into someone else’s breakthrough.
Amen.