The heart knows its own bitterness, and a stranger does not intermeddle with its joy. Into the secret place of the tabernacles of the Most High the Lord hides us; it is there we pour out what no ear of man should hear. The pleading of the soul with its Maker, that is the deep which couches under the throne of mercy. You ask, should this matter be spoken, or must it remain hidden? Let me ask you: is it a secret fault, a burden of original depravity that weighs you and your mother down? Then know that the cleansing lies not in the telling to others, but in the confession to God, who sees in the dark cellars of the heart what no candle ever lit. “Cleanse thou me from secret faults”, that prayer fits the lips of both you and her, cried in the inner chamber where only the eyes of fire behold.
Yet there is a burden-bearing commanded among the saints. Bear ye one another’s burdens, the Spirit says, and so fulfil the law of Christ. But mark the distinction: every man shall bear his own burden. The guilt of your own soul cannot be shifted onto another’s shoulders, nor can you repent and believe for your mother. But you may carry her to Jesus’ feet by faith and prayer, weeping in secret over that soul, and when you meet with the faithful, you may ask them to carry her up to the throne without spreading abroad the thing that should remain hidden. The deacons and elders, the praying men and women of the assembly, have a burden of prayer for the church, you may share the load without disclosing the secret wound. A request for prayer may be made without turning the sanctuary into a place of gossip. Say only, “Brethren, pray for my mother and me, that the Lord would draw near to us in our great need.” The Lord knows the secret; He will answer.
Beware the folly of secret sins, their misery, guilt, and danger. They are not hidden because no man sees them; the darkness and the light are both alike to Him. But do not think that to publish your shame is the remedy. No, it is to the cross you must go, where the propitiation was made. The publican did not recount his sins aloud; he scarcely breathed more than, “God be merciful to me a sinner.” And that prayer, so secret that only the Searcher of hearts heard its full agony, brought him down to his house justified. So, if the burden you carry is the crushing weight of sin and your mother’s too, then let the secret cry go up from both your lips, each for yourself, yet each for the other, until the burden is rolled away at Calvary.
What of the burden of daily life, the yoke that galls your shoulders? Our Lord’s yoke is easy and His burden is light, not because it is no burden at all, but because He bears it with us. Take that same secret place in prayer and ask, “Is this Christ’s burden, or have I taken up a weight He never laid on me?” The mother bears her own burden for her children, none can take her place at the mercy seat for them. Even so, you have a burden of prayer that belongs to you alone. But you may call for the elders of the church to pray over you, anointing you with oil in the name of the Lord, without unclothing the soul before a curious crowd. The confessional booth is Romish; the whisper into the ear of a trusted and godly friend may be medicine, but use such medicine with holy caution.
Therefore, let the inner life remain secret as a garden enclosed, a spring shut up, a fountain sealed. Yet from that secrecy let there flow out the manifest stream of a changed life, a home where the altar of prayer is raised, and a mouth that makes the good confession without betraying confidences. If you and your mother are in Christ, the secret spot, the token known to the Spirit alone, is there, a heart that beats after holiness, a tear that glistens in the dark, a sigh that no one hears but God. Cast the burden of your unworthiness upon Jesus; He is worthy. Plead His merits, not your own. And when you pray, remember Jacob, who after using every wise means, betook himself to prayer with arguments and wrestlings. His answer came, though not in the manner he looked for. He found that the Lord Himself met him in the secret place and there he prevailed.
Go now, and do likewise. Bear your mother to the throne; let her bear you. And may the God of all comfort seal to you the forgiveness of every secret fault, and make you to know that in the pavilion of His love, you are hidden until the danger passes.