Foxes, Hens, and the Lies We Tell our Children

Luke 13:31-35

At that very hour some Pharisees came and said to him, “Get away from here, for Herod wants to kill you.” He said to them, “Go and tell that fox for me, ‘Listen, I am casting out demons and performing cures today and tomorrow, and on the third day I finish my work. Yet today, tomorrow, and the next day I must be on my way, because it is impossible for a prophet to be killed outside of Jerusalem.’

Jerusalem, Jerusalem, the city that kills the prophets and stones those who are sent to it! How often have I desired to gather your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, and you were not willing! See, your house is left to you. And I tell you, you will not see me until the time comes when you say, ‘Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord.’ ”

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We lie to our children. That is one thing I’ve learned in my brief two years of parenting. Most of them are innocent, harmless lies—if there is such a thing. “There are no more cookies, Clive! Mickey Mouse is going to sleep too. Oh sorry buddy, that toy is broken. Yes, that’s chicken, it’s chicken, just eat it!” Those are some of the more common ones in my household. I’m sure you have, or had, your own in your home. Or maybe you remember some that your parents told you. And if you are sitting here saying,

"Well, I never lied to my kids," or “my parents never lied to me," I hate to break it to you, but you're lying right now and yes they did.

This is not to shame any of us or to make you look at your own parents in a different light. Most of the time, the lies are told out of protection, care, and concern. We don’t want our kids to bear the weight of whatever it is: Spot went to live on a farm or Mommy and Daddy were just talking. This is normal and well-intentioned, no doubt. However, according to the novelist Allison Grant, there are some lies we tell, however well-intentioned, that do more harm than good.

This past week, Allison wrote an op-ed in the New York Times about one of those lies—one she says she’ll never tell her children—and that is about pain. When something will hurt and how much. Now, I am sure you have a story about a time you told a white lie about how much something would hurt and everything turned out fine. Well, that wasn’t the case for Allison.

She was born with one leg shorter than the other, by about three inches. When she was 11, she underwent a complex corrective procedure. Over 13 hours, surgeons drilled holes through her bones and attached a metal frame from the outside of her hip to her toe. For the next two years, the frame helped stretch Allison’s leg those three inches. Before the surgery, when she asked if it was going to hurt, she remembers being told, “Don’t worry, we have ways to manage any unpleasantness.” Reassuring, yes, but it skirted around the truth. Those two years, Allison was in excruciating pain, so much so that morphine, valium, and muscle relaxants were all needed on a regular basis just to mask it a bit.

Reflecting on that experience, Allison writes, “The difference between what I was told and what I experienced shattered my faith in doctors and left me questioning whether I could trust adults at all.

Now, as a parent—and through my years working in health care—I’ve made the conscious decision never to lie to people about pain.” Even with something small, she says, she is realistic about the pain they likely will encounter.

This is not a sermon about parenting or about not lying to kids. I certainly don’t have all that figured out yet. Rather, I hope this lens of honesty on pain and danger helps us see how God, like a good parent, doesn’t lie to us about the danger and pain we’ll face—and how that truth sets us free.

We all want to protect people