Salty Eggs, Secrets, and the One Who Can Help

I have a love-hate relationship with eggs. It’s true. One day I delight in cooking a perfectly fried egg. The next day, with surgical-like precision, I painstakingly attempt to peel the shell off a boiled egg. Only the shell has cemented itself onto the egg white and what’s left behind is barely recognizable, quite like my patience at that point.

Now, I don’t claim to be an egg connoisseur, but I do feel I’ve made (and eaten) enough eggs over the years to recognize their unique characteristics. Think I’m crazy yet? Fried eggs are temperamental. Boiled eggs are stubborn.  If what you’re looking for is a no-nonsense, reliable egg, scrambled is the way to go.

It’s pretty hard to ruin scrambled eggs. It’s especially hard to ruin scrambled eggs after they’re already made. That requires a certain skill set, not many possess. I happen to have the perfect amount of “hot mess” in me to pull it off, though, so let me share my tragic egg story with you.

There I sat, next to my daughter, looking out our kitchen window at the garden. My family had eaten breakfast at staggered times that morning, thanks to school schedules and work meetings. I was the last to sit and eat. I’d made myself scrambled eggs and toast. Easy.

I scooped a portion of my eggs onto a piece of toast and folded it in half, making a sandwich of sorts.

I took a bite. Not bad, but slightly bland. Holding the egg sandwich in my left hand, I picked up the saltshaker with my right and added salt…to the remaining eggs on my plate.

I took another bite of my egg and toast sandwich. Still bland! What the what?!

I was frustrated by this point because I was nearly halfway through my sandwich, and my crazy eggs still weren’t salted properly!

I picked up the saltshaker AGAIN and added salt… to the eggs remaining on my plate. I threw in a few dashes of pepper, too, for good luck.

It was then, with a half-eaten, bland, egg sandwich in my left hand, and a pepper shaker in my right hand, that I realized my mistake. My eyes grew wide, and I stifled laughter as I snuck a peek at my daughter to see if she’d noticed my blunder.  “Oh. My. Gosh. I can’t believe I just did that!” I told her.

Needless to say, the eggs on my plate were absolutely disgusting, but we got a good laugh out of it, that’s for sure. I’ve done some pretty silly stuff over the years, but I have to admit I was a little shocked that my brain would fail me in such a manner. It left me feeling a little, well…salty.

That incident brought to mind something in the Bible I never really understood. It was about the left and right hand not knowing what the other is doing. I looked it up and found the scripture in Matthew 6. Most of this chapter talks about when we pray, fast, and give to the needy, we should keep it to ourselves and not use those things to try and look good in front of others.

Basically, we don’t need everybody and their brother giving us credit for all the “great” things we do. We can keep it between ourselves and God.

He sees. He knows. And that’s enough. Here’s the part that’s always tripped me up:

“But when you give to the needy, do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing, so that your giving may be in secret. Then your Father, who sees what is done in secret, will reward you.”

Matthew 6: 3-4 (NIV)

Do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing. Why put it like that? I mean, I get the general idea, but how could anyone not know what their own two hands are doing?

Apparently, the joke’s on me!

I’m still not sure why that exact wording was used there, (if you have the answer feel free to enlighten me), but it led me to notice another portion of that scripture that really stood out.

“…your Father, who sees what is done in secret…” This portion of scripture is repeated 3 times in Matthew 6.

In a society where sharing so much of our personal lives has become the norm, not sharing certain parts of our lives has become increasingly difficult. I’m not just talking about the good stuff, either.   

Sometimes we go through difficult situations we don’t talk about. We keep them secret. Perhaps we don’t want to talk about our issues, but other times we simply can’t. We struggle in silence and feel alone. We feel like “nobody gets me.”

Maybe you don’t share because you don’t want to be a burden on anyone. Maybe you’re protecting the privacy of another. Perhaps you’re scared of what others will think. Whatever your reason for keeping your struggle a secret, you might start thinking, if only they knew the whole story! If only they could see what’s really happening in my life. Maybe then they’d understand.

“…your Father, who sees what is done in secret…”

He sees. He knows.

He sees you when you’re on the mountaintop and when you’re in the deepest valley. He sees your tears and hears your cries for help.

He knows your heart. Your desires. Your hurts. Your needs.

And even if nobody ever fully understands the ins and outs of your life, you can take comfort in the fact that He does.

He sees. He knows. And that’s more than enough.