Even When We Know the Truth, Do We Tell It?

Being an old-school guy, I still spend time listening to the radio when I’m driving. I’ve not yet made the switch to iPods or MP3 players – guess I’m still waiting for the next best thing to arrive. Kind of like going straight from the old 8-track tapes to CDs and skipping cassette tapes, even though that’s already an obsolete comparison.

 

Anyway, while scanning the radio recently, I happened upon a song that caught my ear. I don’t even know the artist who sang it, but the lyrics said, “Truth be told, the truth is rarely told.” Wow! Just eight words, but it’s a real mouthful. 

 

There are lots of directions we could go with that thought, but it occurs to me that sadly, this happens even within the Church. Even when we’re not plagued with a global virus that prohibits, or at least inhibits, our assembling together. You would think as groups of admittedly flawed and fallen people gather to be reminded of the love, grace and mercy of God, we’d feel free to be transparent, even vulnerable with each other. Too often, this isn’t the case.

 

I rarely hear the term anymore, but years ago they used to have “come as you are” parties. Often spur of the moment, these involved invitees attending just as they were when the party was announced – wearing pajamas, bathrobes, or whatever. Maybe the downfall of come-as-you-are events was people deciding that no matter where they go, they’ll come any old way they want.

 

Imagine a church marquee announcing, “Come as you are!” with members of the congregation following up on that, welcoming visitors however they are, no facades or pretentions. Maybe some churches are like that, but they’re the exception, not the rule. Yes, it’s become more and more acceptable to ditch the ties and sport coats in favor of jeans, untucked shirts, shorts, sandals, even no shoes. But come as you are – on the inside? 

 

A friend wrote a book called, Behind Our Sunday Smiles, its title derived from our inclination to display false expressions on Sunday mornings, even if we’ve had the argument of all arguments driving to church, or if our personal lives are crumbling. We reason, “If I tell them the truth when they ask, ‘How are you?’ they won’t like me - or won't want to hear it anyway.”

 

Instead of being able to confidently ask, “Can I be perfectly honest?” it’s as the song says, “Truth be told, the truth is rarely told.”

 

Which is sad, because Jesus Christ was particularly drawn to the come-as-you-are kind of folks: 

• Matthew, the much-despised tax collector, who was viewed by his fellow Jews as a sellout to the Romans. 
• The man with leprosy, a social pariah through no fault of his own, who approached Jesus and said, “If you are willing, you can make me clean” (Mark 1:40). 
• The woman who for years had been plagued with a chronic bleeding problem (Mark 5:24-34). 
• The paralyzed man whose friends carried him to Jesus on a mat, asking that he be healed (Luke 5:17-26). 
• The Samaritan woman at the well whose disreputable past caused her rejection by other women in her town (John 4:4-26).

 

There were many others, but each of these saw something in Jesus that enabled them to let down their guard, to cast aside their shame, and approach Him just as they were. Why shouldn’t it be the same in today’s Church, which the Bible describes as the body of Christ (Ephesians 5:25-32, Colossians 1:24)? God never intended for the Church to be a showcase for spiritual giants, but a hospital for sinners desperately in search of healing and recovery. 

 

Isn’t it about time that those outside the Church could no longer say, to borrow the phrase from the film, “A Few Good Men”: “You can’t handle the truth!” Because as Jesus declared, “I am the way and the truth and the life” (John 14:6). He also promised, “Then you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free” (John 8:32).

 

As His followers, we shouldn’t only be truth-seekers; we should also be truth-tellers, ones who encourage others to do the same. 

What I Learned Since I Knew It All

Are you old enough to remember the Encyclopedia Brittanica? How about the World Book Encyclopedia, or Encyclopedia Americana? Funk & Wagnalls, anyone? Once they were the repositories of knowledge, collections of information that, if nothing else, looked impressive and scholarly.

This classic Brockhaus Encyclopedia, photo courtesy
of Wikipedia, was an early storehouse of knowledge.

Today the only people owning these factual stockpiles call them collector’s items. No one knocks on your door anymore trying to sell you a set of encyclopedia. The reasons are simple: We have Google and other search engines that provide everything we need to know ligerally at our fingertips. And the information’s current. To keep encyclopedias up to date, they produced annual volumes to review what had transpired and was learned over the past 12 months. And even those were outdated before they got off the presses.

Of course, long before encyclopedias were even invented, there was another all-knowing resource. It was – and still is – called the “teenager.” If you’ve raised teenagers, or remember what it was like to be one, you realize young people have a special gift. Or maybe a curse: They know it all – or think they do. I’ve been a know-it-all teen, and have been a parent to teens, so I’ve experienced this complex condition. Maybe it’s instinctive to becoming independent, but they go to sleep one night agreeable and compliant, and the next morning wake up thinking they’ve acquired the wisdom of the universe.

The know-it-all syndrome doesn’t necessarily end when the teen years do, however. I recall numerous times as an adult – and probably many more that I’ve forgotten – when I was quick to make people aware of how much I knew. In retrospect, I’ve discovered I haven’t always known as much as I thought I did.

A little bit of knowledge can be a dangerous thing. In fact, knowledge – even truth – used recklessly turns into a lethal weapon. Because my style for communicating face to face tends to be direct, even off the cuff, there have been many occasions when I came to regret not being more tactful.

Someone might say, “The truth hurts,” but it doesn’t have to; it’s always better when the truth (at least as we understand it) is conveyed in a context of sensitivity and compassion, whenever possible. That’s why I often ponder some of the principles the Bible teaches about our eagerness to “tell the truth.” For instance, Ephesians 4:15 admonishes, “Instead, speaking the truth in love, we will grow to become in every respect the mature body of him who is the head, that is, Christ.”

If that doesn’t seem clear enough, the ancient book of Proverbs offers this warning for those of us prone to be know-it-alls: “The wise don’t make a show of their knowledge, but fools broadcast their foolishness” (Proverbs 12:23).

The writer of Proverbs apparently was well-acquainted with the perils of verbose know-it-alls, because he offered more insights: “Reckless words pierce like a sword, but the tongue of the wise brings healing” (Proverbs 12:18). “He who guards his lips guards his life, but he who speaks rashly will come to ruin” (Proverbs 13:3).

And there’s my all-time favorite, sound advice for reining in someone like me who’s always ready to tell others what I know – even when they haven’t asked my opinion: “When there are many words, transgression is unavoidable, but he who restrains his lips is wise” (Proverbs 10:19)

So if you, or someone you know, has a teenager stealthily hiding within, itching to demonstrate how he or she is like a walking, talking encyclopedia, these passages might be good ones to use as reference.