Halloween is tonight. All this week, the conversations among Chloe and Cole's friends at school have been about monsters, ghosts and things that go bump in the night.

Because of that, Chloe and Cole have been a little concerned about creatures under the bed and in the closet.

They've been especially upset around bedtime, insisting that I leave a light on in the hall. Several times they've even asked if they can sleep with me.

Now don't get me wrong: I love my kids. I just don't like them sleeping with me. They flip and flop and kick me all night. So I refused, telling them they need to sleep in their own beds.

"Then would you sleep with me?" Cole asked.

Same story, different bed. "No, you need to sleep by yourself."

Cole started to cry, so I suggested an alternative. "How about I spray your room with Monster Spray?"

"What's that?" he asked.

"Here, I'll show you." I went to the bathroom and got a can of Lysol.

Cole can't read yet, so I knew I'd get away with what I did next. "See?" I said as I drew my finger beneath the word "Lysol." "Monster Spray."

Then I turned the can around and "read" from the back label: "Prevents monsters, ghosts and other scary creatures. Spray on bedroom door, windows, inside closets and under beds."

I started spraying.

"It stinks!" Cole cried out.

"That's how you know it's working," I said. "Monsters hate that smell."

"And ghosts?"

"Yep, ghosts, too."

Cole calmed down considerably, and within minutes was fast asleep.

Let's be clear. I lied to my son. I could rationalize it by saying I had good reasons. By telling a "little white lie," I was able to calm his fears and get him to go to sleep. It was a victimless sin.

But is there such a thing? I may not have wronged him, I may not have wronged anyone else (human or monster), but I wronged Christ.

Our sins, even if we consider them "victimless" are what put Jesus on the cross (1 Peter 2:24). So the true victim of our sins, even "little white lies," is Christ.

And what of the trust issues if Cole ever realized I lied to him? Would he ever believe me again? How would he know when I'm telling him the truth and when I'm lying? He would forever be unsure of what I was telling him, and therefore unsure of me.

Lying, even for a good reason, has far-reaching consequences. So I've decided to throw away the "Monster Spray" and be more honest in dealing with my children's fears.

Parrish Myers is pastor of Pine Crest Baptist Church in Gainesville. His column appears every other week in Sunday Life.