Ironic that I've been thinking about honesty. The vicar mentioned it this morning. The necessity of being honest with God.
And, to my mind, with each other as well.
Ironic also, because I just made a cake. I just love analogies. This is my latest. The Great Cake Analogy.
My cake making is... okay. The cakes usually taste good, even when I don't measure the ingredients properly. But it's a bit hit and miss - partly because I don't make cakes very often, so I forget how to do it. As for icing... well, it's always necessary. Necessary because I really like the icing best of all, and necessary to hide all the lumpy bits. The cakes never turn out with good smooth, level surfaces. There are bumps at the side and on top, but nothing that a layer of icing can't cure.
The trouble is, icing isn't good. It's calories your body doesn't need and sweetness which damages the teeth.
I do other damage to my life, if I'm not careful.
My life is like one of my cakes. Lumpy, bumpy and doesn't look good, although it doesn't taste too bad. Yet a lot of the time I ice it over, so no one can see the ugly bits.
My icing is made of politeness, dissembling, camouflage and hidden emotions. It contains lies, which are very useful for covering up hurt and difficulty, the sort of lies on the lines of 'I'm fine, thank you,' in answer to 'How are you?'. It is smoothed down with the hot water of positive thinking - if I don't admit to the problem, it will go away.
People can't connect properly if I am not honest about my life. If I gloss over difficulties - particularly if I cover them with holy optimism and Bible references - others cannot see the real me. Icing over my life isn't good for me.
Am I prepared to be honest with God? Am I prepared for people to see the uncovered ugliness that is like one of my cakes before cosmetic treatment?