July | 2020 | He's Taken Leave

You can’t believe everything you read

The red-headed lady who raised me was the first person I heard say those words. I suppose it’s not unusual to learn truth from your mother. Her truths came mostly in short, easy-to-remember maxims and sometimes, in long run-on sentences with Bible verses thrown in for good measure.

Those truths, I remember. Some, I even still live by. Especially these days, I remember often that you can’t believe everything you read.

I never expected to learn anything from a fortune cookie. It’s probably a good thing.

We’d been cooped up in the house for weeks on end, waiting out the virus. Restaurants were closed; drive-through lanes, the only way to get food we didn’t have to cook ourselves. We finally gave in one evening and bought Chinese.

The meal was wonderful, the flavors a nice departure from the familiar menu of the kitchen at our place (not that I’m complaining about home-cooking at all). It didn’t take long for the Lovely Lady and me to clear our plates of the rice and various chicken recipes that accompanied it.

What about the fortune cookies?

Oh yes, all that was left were the fortune cookies. One for her. One for me. I don’t have any inkling of what hers said. I suppose that’s normal.

For some reason, we think the little pre-printed piece of paper inserted into the fold of the hard, crunchy cookie material is only meant for the one who happens to crack it open and pull it out.

I suspect, if we’re silly enough to think the phrase or sentence contained on the paper is of any importance, we might as well believe it was specifically intended for the person who opens it. It is, after all, a fortune cookie, is it not?

Still, the fateful words in my cookie were a little shocking.

“The truth will be important to you for the next month.”

The first thought in my head was, and what about the day after the month is over? I want to be sure of my options, you understand.

Right about then though, another thought took my brain captive: The truth hurts! No, literally! It hurts!

As I read the fortune, I had bitten the cookie, expecting it to crunch into little crumbs on my tongue. Instead, the sharp edge sliced into the roof of my mouth, drawing blood immediately. Every time I ate solid food for the next couple of days, I remembered that the truth hurts, because of the very real pain I felt.

Yes. It was another of that red-headed lady’s truths. Short and not-so-sweet. The truth hurts. Once again, she was right.

Truth is essential

Okay, I’m over the pain now and I want to talk about that fortune. I’d like to know why the truth is going to be important for me, but only for the next 30 days.

I’m certain the truth is always essential. Full-stop.

To a follower of Christ, truth is not an on-again, off-again option but is an ever-present tenet of our faith. His Word is filled with instructions that are clear and unmistakable. For example:

The Lord detests lying lips,
but he delights in people who are trustworthy. (Proverbs 12:22, NIV)

Why then, do His followers so often deal dishonestly? Why do we lie to those we love? To those we barely know?

On a recent afternoon, as the Lovely Lady and I sat around the table with friends and family, the conversation turned to lies told us by our parents. Several at the table told of untruths they learned about either late in their parents’ lives or after they had died. I don’t exaggerate when I tell you there was emotional devastation for those left to deal with the consequences of some of those lies.

When we tell a lie, we bind ourselves to that lie. Until the day we confess it and finally tell the truth, we are shackled to it. Again and again, lies are required to prop up the original untruth. Lie upon lie, compounded until the guilt must be unbearable.

And yet, Jesus told his followers (in front of His detractors) that there is freedom in the truth.

To the Jews who had believed him, Jesus said, “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, NIV)

Truth is freedom. Freedom from fear. Freedom from shame. Freedom from a dishonest past that ties us up in knots of failure and terror of discovery.

Truth doesn’t always hide in plain sight

Boy, that’s an understatement! We live in a day of truth-twisting like none before, public officials who build cases from half-truths and generalities, people groups who purposely blend lies with myth and call it truth, individuals who spread information they know to be inaccurate, defending their actions with excuses and slander. More than a few on that list above claim the title of Christian.

Did I say it’s a day of truth-twisting like none before? I’m sorry. That wasn’t quite accurate.

We complain today that we no longer know what is truth and what isn’t. An influential man, in about 33 AD, said the same thing.

“What is truth?” retorted Pilate. With this he went out again to the Jews gathered there and said, “I find no basis for a charge against him.” (John 18:38, NIV)

Sound familiar? The political/religious leaders had fabricated a case against Jesus, using witnesses who actually reported words He had said, twisting them to make Him appear treasonous. Then, when the entire group was in agreement, they took that information to the Roman governor.

After speaking with the accused, Pilate tried to square the “truth” from the priests with what he heard from Jesus. His response to the confusing dichotomy was that phrase we hear repeated again and again today. Two thousand years later, we still are seeking the answer.

What is truth?

Confusion reigns right now

We have a virus that won’t be pinned down to any recognizable modus operandi, with no response that can be agreed upon. There is massive racial unrest that has fractured even the most conservative and liberal organizations in our country, with slogans and accusations hurled in the name of truth from all directions. Our government is in disarray — every voice claiming the high ground of truth, with no sign of any resolution.

When we employ the truth for our own ends, we almost always wrap it in exaggeration and innuendo, the final result being something that resembles the truth not at all.

And yet, we must strive for the truth, searching it out, stripping away the falsehoods and non-essentials. If we don’t, we will be bound in this confusion indefinitely.

I’m reminded of a conversation between two characters in The Lord of the Rings story. Eomer, confused by events beyond his comprehension, wonders how one should decide what is right in such a time. Aragorn tells him nothing has changed. Nothing.

Nothing has changed

Truth is still essential. We are still called to be ambassadors of truth. It can still be found. Though not easily, I’ll grant you. And, when it is found, it will not be our servant, lending itself to our selfish causes. But it will be found.

I wonder if we don’t search in all the wrong places for truth. Perhaps, if we focused on the basics, we might find a way to walk in truth, to live the truth in our lives.

Basics? Where can we find those?

For us, who claim to follow Christ, we simply need to start there — following Christ. His claim is to be the Way, the Truth, and the Life.

If we’re following Truth, really following it in the spiritual sense, I have a strong suspicion that truth, in the practical, physical sense, will become clear to us.

When we participate in the truth-twisting, divisive conversations of the world, we are not following truth.

The basics are that we are to love God (who is truth) with everything we have in us.

The basics are that we must then love people, wanting the same good things, the same advantages, we claim for ourselves. Our truth-telling is to be done in that same love, building them up and not making them less.

The basics are that we are to focus on good things, truthful things, things that are honorable, and worthy of admiration. It’s a focus I’m not seeing all that much these days, even in myself.

So, here’s what I’m going to be doing

For the next month, I’m going to stop listening to the lies. For the next month, I’m going to stop telling the lies. For the next month, I’m going to focus on the good and true things that are all around me.

Then, after next month, I’m going to do the same thing for the month after that, and the month after that, and the… Well, you get the idea.

I could use some company. Then, if the truth hurts, we’ll be able to comfort each other.

Truth does that sometimes. Literally and figuratively. It’s still better than the alternative.

For the next month. And then some.

Eomer said, “How is a man to judge what to do in such times?”
“As he has ever judged,” said Aragorn. “Good and evil have not changed since yesteryear, nor are they one thing among Elves and another among Men. It is a man’s part to discern them, as much in the Golden Wood as in his own house.” (from The Two Towers by J.R.R. Tolkien)

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. (Ephesians 4:15, NIV)

I sent my friend a birthday greeting recently. It wasn’t anything special, just two sentences on a popular social media site. Still, he was kind enough to return a note of thanks, with a little something added.

I wasn’t sure I wanted the little something.

You see, some words are light and carefree. There is no expectation and little need to consider further action. Words like, “Thanks for thinking about me.” Or, “I had a great day, thanks!”

Unfortunately, he didn’t choose light and carefree.

These words were compelling. They not only made a statement; they left the reader—me—with an expectation of fulfillment.

These words had weight. Really. It was weight that I felt.

I still feel it today.

After his thanks, my friend added this,

“You have a gift of gentleness, and I am grateful for it. Thank you for being a great example to many men!”

I want to be happy—or proud—or even embarrassed.

What I am, is conflicted. And, challenged.

I don’t know if I can live up to my friend’s vision. The man I see every day in the mirror isn’t gentle. He’s not a great example to others. He isn’t even a so-so example to others.

Perhaps I should tell him he has me all wrong. Maybe my children could tell him. The Lovely Lady could give him a hint or two (could she ever!). The customer care supervisor at the phone company—the one I called a couple of weeks ago—could really give him an ear full.

Why, even the dogs in the backyard might (if they could talk) set him straight. I know the female, who’s been digging holes where I just planted grass seed last week, would disabuse him of any illusions that might linger.

Gentleness? Me?

Hardly!

image by Rudy & Peter Skitterians on Pixabay

But the words have weight. Gravitas, even. Serious weight.

My friend meant them. He has observed me living life among others and he has reason to believe there is gentleness in how I comport myself.

I suppose now I will need to make it so. After all, the apostle—my namesake—left instructions that all of us should make it our lifelong practice.

Let your gentleness be evident to all. The Lord is near. (Philippians 4:5, NIV)

Wait. How did that second sentence get in there? This is between me and the people I meet every day. I’ll do my best to show gentleness. I’ll attempt to make it evident to them. That’s all.

Why does it matter that the Lord is near? Why can’t I just do my part and they do theirs?

I suppose part of the answer to that question lies with my responses up above. I have known all my days that I should treat others with gentle hands, and voice, and heart. And yet, on my own, I cannot fulfill my responsibility.

I blow up. I respond with sarcasm. I rip into them.

Oh, most of the time, I can feign gentleness. I can talk a good game, and act the part. But when I stand in front of the mirror at the end of the day and look into the face I see there, I know.

I know.

But God is near. He is. Jesus Himself said it would always be true.

You can see it for yourself. I am always going to be with you, wherever you go, however long you live, until time is no more. (Matthew 28:20, my paraphrase)

He is there to remind. To prick my spirit. To give strength.

There’s a reason gentleness and self-control are gifts of the Spirit. I’m expected to put them into practice in His presence. Again and again, until they are as much a part of my daily routine as breathing and eating.

And yet somehow society has come, over the eons, to believe that aggressiveness and demonstrations of power are signs of strength—of character.

Don’t believe me? Look around you today. Who are our idols, our heroes? Are they kind and caring? Or, are they argumentative and combative?

In all our media—in conversations overheard on the public transport—in public messages from pastors and politicians, activists and artists—all around us, we see little self-control and certainly few gentle spirits. And, we seem to revel in the lack of such things.

We—the ones who claim to be close to God—appear to have no interest in gentleness. None.

Recently, on a social media site I frequent, a Christian friend posted a picture of a man with a brightly dyed beard, wearing a woman’s swimsuit, walking along what appeared to be a fashion runway.

The question posed with the photo was, “Can someone tell me what this is?”

The vitriol and hate spattered the page below the photo. I didn’t know all of the folks who replied. I’m making an assumption when I say they probably all claim to be followers of Jesus Christ.

May I tell you one thing of which I’m certain? Positive, even.

God doesn’t hate the person in that photo. He doesn’t.

That person—and every other person who has ever drawn breath on this spinning ball of dirt—is so precious to our God that His Son gave up His body and breath for them.

Every one of them. Us.

We will never look in the eyes of a human who isn’t loved by God.

And yet we claim the right to treat these, whom our God loves beyond all reason, hatefully and without mercy.

While He is near, we do it.

A few years ago, a popular song suggested that God is watching us, a not unlikely concept, but the next phrase claimed His oversight was from a distance. And, sometimes it can feel like that.

But, feelings aren’t facts. It turns out God is watching us. While He walks beside us. While His Spirit lives in us.

How we treat folks around us matters. To Him, it matters. It matters to them.

And, in the end, it will matter to us. More than we know, I think.

It is. It’s high time I become what people believe me to be. Or, at least make a start.

The red-headed lady who raised me always told me I should be a gentleman. She wasn’t wrong. She rarely was.

A gentle man.

God is near.

Be kind to each other. It is better to commit faults with gentleness than to work miracles with unkindness. (Mother Teresa of Calcutta)

But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, forbearance, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control. Against such things there is no law. (Galatians 5:22-23, NIV)

He's Taken Leave

Random wanderings with Paul Phillips

Month: July 2020

I’m Going to Tell the Truth for the Next Month