The Truth, the Half Truth, and the Varnished Truth

The other day I was listening to the radio when I heard a song with the recurring refrain, “Truth be told, the truth is rarely told.” For those not familiar with this tune, these words aren’t a musical critique of today’s media. Nor is it a song about politicians, although for some it might ring true for that arena.

 

Actually, the song by Matthew West is a comment about the Church. Founded by the One who declared Himself to be “the way, the truth and the life” (John 14:6), it should be the one place where truth is paramount, where its members can be honest and feel the freedom to be open and candid with one another. Sadly, in many instances, it’s not.

 

Somewhere along the line, people have learned that they’re not supposed to tell how things truly are. We emerge from our cars in the church parking lot and spot someone we know who greets us with, “Hi! How are you?” We reply something like “Great!” or, “Couldn’t be better!” When in truth, we’re not be great, and things definitely could be a lot better.

It's because many of us have accepted the myth that if we’re followers of Christ, children of the King, life should be wonderful, problem-free. We dare not let anyone know our struggles, because if we do, what will they think of us? Strangely enough, those folks from whom we’re trying to shield our life’s challenges and hurts are probably trying to do the same with us. In actuality, we’re all a mess, in one way or another. But don’t admit it to anyone, okay?

 

A friend, Jimmy Lee, years ago wrote a book called Behind Our Sunday Smiles in which he addressed the facades we use to prevent people from peering inside and seeing our pain. His title captured it, because it’s like we hit a switch before entering the sanctuary or the Sunday school room. We’re convinced we need to look good, acting like we’ve got it all together – even if we’ve forgotten where we put it!

 

I’ve been guilty of this myself, understanding that when people ask, “How are you?”, they don’t always want an honest answer. They’re busy – we’re all busy – distracted, not wanting to get involved in one another’s lives, or just too weighed down with the burdens of everyday living. “Don’t tell me your troubles; I’ve got enough of my own.”

 

However, if we’re to be obedient to our calling as followers of Jesus, we have a responsibility to minister to one another. “Bear one another’s burdens, and thereby fulfill the law of Christ” (Galatians 6:2). And James 5:16 admonishes, “Therefore confess your sins one to another and pray for each other so that you may be healed.” We can’t do this very effectively if we’re not truthful with one another.

 

Even a casual glance affirms the Bible’s emphasis on truth. Speaking to a crowd eager to hear what He had to say, Jesus declared, “…If you hold to my teaching, you are really my disciples. Then you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free” (John 8:31-32). And the night He would be betrayed, He prayed to Jesus to His Father, “Sanctify them by the truth; your word is truth” (John 17:17).

 

This truth, ultimately, is the Gospel, that He came to become Savior and Lord to those who would receive Him, serving as the atoning sacrifice for our sins so we can be forgiven and reconciled to God. Working this out means we can respond in truth not only to God, but also to one another.

 

West closes his song with the reminder we can always be honest with God: “There’s no failure, no fall, there’s no sin You don’t already know, so let the truth be told.” We can be honest, totally vulnerable with the Lord because He know all about us. 

 

And the Church – the body of Christ consisting of His children and followers – should be where He manifests His love, mercy, grace and compassion through each of us. As Ephesians 4:25 instructs, “Therefore each of you must put off falsehood and speak truthfully to his neighbor, for we are all members of one body.” The truth be told, the Church should be the one sure place where the truth is really told. 

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. 

Taking Truth to the Negotiating Table?

It’s time to revisit a topic in the forefront of many people’s minds these days. Pontius Pilate, confronted with what to do with Jesus, whom religious leaders regarded as rabble-rouser at best and outright threat at worst, famously asked, “What is truth?” (John 18:38). Lots of people these days seem to be wondering the same thing.

We tend to treat truth as a negotiable commodity, like going into a grocery store and choosing between brands and flavors of jelly (or jam or preserves), kinds of deli meat, or varieties of cereal. Everyone likes multiple choices, don’t we? 

If you’re old enough, you remember having only three TV stations – or if you’re not that old, about a dozen cable channels. Boring, right? (Today we have hundreds of channels from which to choose, and still can’t find anything worth watching!) When cars were invented, Henry Ford said something like, “You can have your Model T in any color you want – as long as it’s black.” Can you conceive of not having dozens of makes, models, sizes and styles of cars, vans, SUVs and trucks, not to mention color schemes or accessory options?

Lots of folks view spirituality the same way. They recoil at the notion that there could be such a thing as absolute spiritual truth. I read this post recently on social media: 

“One can believe they have a corner on the truth and God’s will, but that would be true of any number of people from any number of religions.” 

In other words, who’s to say that Christianity, Islam, Hinduism, Buddhism, and all the other “isms” aren’t equally true? (Despite the fact that even a cursory comparison reveals they differ greatly on many key points, often diametrically opposed and irreconcilable.)

Should we agree that truth is simply a matter of what’s right in the eyes of the beholder? As long as one is sincere – or convinced? Kumbaya, anyone?

Well, drawing cues from everyday life we discover truth isn’t nearly so negotiable. Take, for example, commonplace realities like gravity, blood, or even roadways.

What would you think of someone who said, “I’m jumping off this cliff. My truth says I won’t fall, that instead I’ll soar like an eagle”? Gravity has little interest in what our “truth” tells us. What goes up must come down, like it or not.

If we need a blood transfusion, in most cases a blood type matching our own is required. Tomato juice or red fruit punch won’t do; not even blood from a cow or a camel. No matter what someone decides they want their “truth” about their blood to be, the type of blood they have is the type they will need.

Many roadways are very clearly designated for one way. Especially highways. We don’t want some driver deciding “her truth” says it’s okay to drive south in the northbound lane. We’ve all heard about what happens when one person’s truth collides with someone else’s truth on the interstate.

There’s a tendency to balk when we’re told there’s only one way to achieve a desired objective. But imagine a passenger of the Titanic, struggling to stay afloat in the frigid waters as the fabled ocean liner sinks to the ocean floor. (This is shortly after the ship captain’s “truth” told him the Titanic was unsinkable, and that there couldn’t be an iceberg in the vicinity poised to rip a hole in the ship’s hull.) 

A lifeboat comes across the frantic passenger treading water. There’s room for one more person in the lifeboat, and it’s the swimmer’s last chance for survival. Yet he emphatically refuses to climb in, insisting he’ll wait for a larger rescue boat. His own “truth” convinces him this isn’t his one and only option. How long do you think his truth would keep him alive?

For this reason, when we read Jesus make the seemingly audacious statement,“I am the way, the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me” (John 14:6), we should at least take a moment to consider the magnitude of His claim. Many argue, “Jesus is the only way? No way!” Then they move along pursuing their own way, their “truth.”

But Jesus didn’t make that assertion just once. He made it clear truth was of eminent importance for Him, such as the time He addressed the esteemed Pharisees: “Jesus said to them, ‘If God were your Father, you would love me, for I have come here from God. I have not come on my own; God sent me…. You belong to your father, the devil, and you want to carry out your father’s desires. He was a murderer from the beginning, not holding to the truth, for there is no truth in him. When he lies, he speaks his native language, for he is a liar and the father of lies. Yet because I tell the truth, you do not believe me!’" (John 8:42-45).

Harsh, tough words, right? Jesus apparently hadn’t read Dale Carnegie’s book about how to win friends and influence people. But sometimes there’s no soft-pedaling, no sugarcoating the truth.

If He were standing among us today, I believe Jesus would say the same thing. As He told Jews who were following Him, “If you hold to my teaching, you are really my disciples. Then you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free” (John 8:32).

And how can we find this truth? How can we know it? Jesus gave this answer as well: "When the Advocate comes, whom I will send to you from the Father – the Spirit of truth who goes out from the Father – he will testify about me” (John 15:26). 

Can We Handle the Truth – with Grace?

“You can’t handle the truth!” This classic line from the film, “A Few Good Men,” resonates today because it seems many people have problems handling the truth – or even recognizing what it is.

Truth faces uphill battles these days. We hear claims of “fake news” or “fake facts.” (And that’s just from kindergarten classrooms!) Politicians point to each other, and the mess – I mean, mass – media with accusations of fabricating falsehoods or intentionally distorting the truth. Entire websites are devoted to propagating fictitious news stories, sometimes disguised as satire. Outrageous “reports” get posted on social media, and darned if hundreds of people don’t fall for the hoaxes. It’s increasingly hard these days to distinguish truth from fiction.

The old quiz show, "To Tell the Truth," recently revived,
capitalizes on the transitory nature of "truth."

In the midst of this “truth crisis,” the quiz show “To Tell the Truth” has been revived. It originally ran from 1956 to 1968, featuring guests with unusual occupations or personal distinctions, as is the case with the newer version. In each segment, one guest is telling the truth. The other two are imposters, posing as the person to be revealed., By asking a series of questions, panelists seek to discern who’s telling the truth and who’s not. Sometimes, the charlatans appear more truthful than the real deal.

Believers today are also wrestling with truth, but in a different sense. The truth has always been bedrock to Christianity. Jesus Christ claimed, “I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me” (John 14:6). We are convinced as well that the Bible is God’s inspired Word, His truth about who He is, who we are, and how we should live. Jesus prayed for His disciples, “Sanctify them by the truth; your word is truth” (John 17:17).

Because of this, we assert the truth is non-negotiable. At the same time, God didn’t call for us to bludgeon others with the truth, wielding it as a spiritual club in our attempts to persuade others to understand and accept it. Because inherent to the truth of the Scriptures is His unconditional love and His grace, the Lord’s unmerited favor extended to all who will receive it. This leads to a tension – the struggle to balance God’s revealed truth with His grace, which no one can earn or deserve.

Because it can feel awkward to present both at the same time, many of us tend to lean toward one or the other – black-and-white, unyielding truth, or grace, which often seems more welcoming. But as pastor J. D. Greear recently noted (and others before him), we haven’t the option of choosing one or the other.

Greear stated, “Truth without grace is fundamentalism; grace without truth is vapid sentimentalism.” Both are indispensable to the gospel message. But it’s a great tension – presenting the truth in a gracious manner, as well as discussing grace in the light of God’s truth.

I’ve wrestle with this often. I’m inclined to be blunt, speaking the truth from the Scriptures as I’ve come to understand it, firing from the hip. To borrow Greear’s terms, none of that “vapid sentimentalism” for me. However, a 100 percent dose of truth, without the softening effect of grace, can come across as harsh, legalistic, judgmental, rigid and insensitive. When I was first confronted with God’s truth, thankfully it was offered with an equal portion of grace.

Jesus never minced words about the truth: “Then you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free” (John 8:32). Many of us have experienced this in our own lives, finding the teachings and principles of the Scriptures are not restrictive, as some would contend, but liberating, affording us the joy of becoming what God has intended for us to be.

Throughout His earthly ministry, Jesus made bold, seemingly outrageous claims that if untrue, would earn Him status as either the greatest liar in the history of the world, or insane. He was neither. At the same time, the gospels often show His interactions with others as being filled with love and compassion. He sought to relate to people exactly where they were – not where He wanted them to be or thought they should be. Our approach in presenting His truth to others should follow His example.

This is why 1 Peter 3:15 admonishes: “But in your hearts set apart Christ as Lord. Always be prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks you to give the reason for the hope that you have. But do this with gentleness and respect.” We’re to hold fast to the truth – that Jesus Christ is Savior and Lord, the only way to God. But we’re also to respond to those who inquire about our faith with grace, “with gentleness and respect.”

Another of my favorite evangelistic verses expresses it this way: “Let your conversation be always full of grace, seasoned with salt, so that you may know how to answer everyone” (Colossians 4:6). Just as Jesus always responded with the right words for the right occasion, our prayerful desire should be to do the same whenever opportunities arise. Then, others may be able to handle the truth they hear from us.

‘Virtue’ Squeezed Out By Virtual Reality?

"Fantasyland" is a great place to visit, but it's not
such a great idea to live there full-time.

When was the last time you heard someone speaking about “virtue”? Have you used the term recently yourself? Hardly anyone talks about virtue these days. There just doesn’t seem to be much demand for it.

So what in the world is virtue, anyway, since it’s become so rare in the public consciousness? One dictionary defines it as “conformity to a standard of right or a particular moral excellence.” A speaker I was listening to recently did talk about virtue, and explained it as “courage, moral goodness, consistency in the face of an inconsistent, amoral world.”

With so much disagreement about what’s right and wrong, and the rise of moral ambiguity, it any wonder we don’t hear much about virtue these days?

Part of the problem could be that virtue’s systematically been squeezed out by virtual reality. We have people talking about “my truth” vs. “your truth,” essentially deciding all truth is relative and, in effect, there is no real truth. Their “reality” isn’t the same as ours. Truth has become just whatever you want it to be.

Then we have social media, where we have virtual friends, people we’ve never actually met. Even if we agree with them philosophically or ideologically, if we bumped into them on the street, they’d be complete strangers. Most of us can declare, “I’ve got lots of friends. I just haven’t met them yet.”

Add to this “avatars” – icons or figures that can represent us  in online computer games or Internet forums. Not only do cyberspace friends not really know us on the inside, they also don't know us on the exterior either. If you’re short and plump, your avatar can be tall and slender; 100-pound weaklings can appear as visions of strength.

“Pokemon Go” seems the new rage, taking faux reality into the great outdoors, the highways and byways of our communities. Reason tells us “there are no such things as monsters,” but the Pokemon-Goers are hunting them just the same. They’re real in the world of virtual reality.

Then there are so-called reality shows, in actuality no more real than Sunday’s comics, programs deftly edited and spliced to depict drama and conflict we’d hardly notice during the live filming.

And if we still haven’t had enough fantasy to counter real life, we can try virtual reality glasses to transport us anywhere and in any way we choose. Reality sure ain’t what it used to be.

But what’s this all got to do with virtue? It’s simple – virtue isn’t developed in a vacuum. It’s beneficial only within the context of relationships. Real ones.

We speak of “connectivity” in terms of having instant access to information and people. And yes, it’s nice to communicate with others, whether on social media, text messaging or email, anywhere around the world. But such connectivity doesn’t foster strong, growing relationships. That occurs only when we spend time with one another face to face, side by side.

I think this is why the Bible puts such great emphasis on both virtue and relationships – with God, and with one another. For instance, in Philippians 4:8 we’re admonished, “Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable – if anything is excellent or praiseworthy – think about such things.” Hopefully we can all agree this is a list of good things, but they can’t be practiced in a vacuum.

Immediately following, the apostle Paul presents the biblical view of connectivity: “Whatever you have learned or received or heard from me, or seen in me – put into practice” (Philippians 4:9). In other words, “If you have seen me practicing these or other virtues, you should do them as well and model them for others."

The Scriptures underscore the importance of keeping grounded, of confronting actual reality – not the virtual variety. It instructs us, “And let us consider how we may spur one another on toward love and good deeds. Let us not give up meeting together, as some are in the habit of doing, but let us encourage one another” (Hebrews 10:24-25).

I especially like that word “encourage,” because in these days of virtual reality and relative truth, it takes great courage to be willing to stand up for absolute truth and values that have transcended the centuries – but are being soundly rejected today.

The Bible also uses many “one another” passages, including admonitions to “bear with one another and forgive one another” (Colossians 3:13), “be kind to one another” (Ephesians 4:32), “love one another” (John 13:34), “be devoted to one another and honor one another” (Romans 12:10). Again, such virtues can’t be cultivated and manifested in a virtual reality context.

In 1969, Coca-Cola introduced the slogan, “It’s the Real Thing,” which it used for a couple of years. Maybe it’s time to stop encouraging virtual reality mindsets and subscribe to the notion that “Virtue – It’s the Real Thing.”