The Truth is Scary
Someone said at dinner tonight, “If these kids knew how they [popular Christian band] really were, they would be destroyed.” The truth is often scary. If anything, I think that truth hits us like a ton of bricks. Like life and reality, it’s messy.
Unfortunately, somewhere along the line, we made truth a commodity, something else we could control and put on a display shelf to sell to the next sucker. We started to own truth, or at least what we thought was truth. It was our toy, our plaything and our tool. It became a mandate and an excuse. Because we thought we had the patent on truth, we began to make our own truth to suit our own needs.
We forgot that truth sneaks up on us like a common cold or a spring rain. Truth walks in the door and tells you your husband just had a heart attack. It also pops up on the evening news and lets you know that you’ve won the lottery. Because it’s not as predictable as we’d like, it can bring the sun and the clouds, the flowers and the weeds.
Truth happens to us. As much as we’d like to be able to control what truth is, life dictates otherwise. Like both cancer and miracles, truth just happens. Because we wanted to control it for so long, we made truth more of a destination than a journey.
When we made truth our pet, we did so thinking it would make everything simple. Universalizing what was right would mean that everyone would get along, our standards would never be compromised, and nothing would ever change. But, like it should, truth broke our mold. Real life, time, and transition came raining down on our truth picnic, reminding us that truth is bigger than the simple adjective we choose to complete the sentence, “Truth is ______.”
Beware of people who claim to know the truth. Most of the time, people who claim to have the corner on truth are lying, trying their best with their theological calisthenics to jump through philosophical hurdles. They take a statement made by a radical rabbi and demand all questions to cease. Instead of examining what this man’s way, truth and life might look like today, they place heavier burdens on shoulders that have already been made tired by the truth of life.
The truth that life brings on random Tuesday afternoons is scary. This is why so many people try to run from it, coping with habits and relationships that are unhealthy. Instead of trying to dissect the truth that has been presented to them, they resent their own realities, believing anything other than the truth. Someone tried to sell them the truth before, and they’re not interested. Next house, please.
Perhaps the role for Christians today is not to present a truth that so many already know not to exist and instead present a way of living that embraces the truth we know does exist. Beginning with the truth of our very hearts and lives will allow us to step boldly out our front doors and into the realities of today.
Unfortunately, somewhere along the line, we made truth a commodity, something else we could control and put on a display shelf to sell to the next sucker. We started to own truth, or at least what we thought was truth. It was our toy, our plaything and our tool. It became a mandate and an excuse. Because we thought we had the patent on truth, we began to make our own truth to suit our own needs.
We forgot that truth sneaks up on us like a common cold or a spring rain. Truth walks in the door and tells you your husband just had a heart attack. It also pops up on the evening news and lets you know that you’ve won the lottery. Because it’s not as predictable as we’d like, it can bring the sun and the clouds, the flowers and the weeds.
Truth happens to us. As much as we’d like to be able to control what truth is, life dictates otherwise. Like both cancer and miracles, truth just happens. Because we wanted to control it for so long, we made truth more of a destination than a journey.
When we made truth our pet, we did so thinking it would make everything simple. Universalizing what was right would mean that everyone would get along, our standards would never be compromised, and nothing would ever change. But, like it should, truth broke our mold. Real life, time, and transition came raining down on our truth picnic, reminding us that truth is bigger than the simple adjective we choose to complete the sentence, “Truth is ______.”
Beware of people who claim to know the truth. Most of the time, people who claim to have the corner on truth are lying, trying their best with their theological calisthenics to jump through philosophical hurdles. They take a statement made by a radical rabbi and demand all questions to cease. Instead of examining what this man’s way, truth and life might look like today, they place heavier burdens on shoulders that have already been made tired by the truth of life.
The truth that life brings on random Tuesday afternoons is scary. This is why so many people try to run from it, coping with habits and relationships that are unhealthy. Instead of trying to dissect the truth that has been presented to them, they resent their own realities, believing anything other than the truth. Someone tried to sell them the truth before, and they’re not interested. Next house, please.
Perhaps the role for Christians today is not to present a truth that so many already know not to exist and instead present a way of living that embraces the truth we know does exist. Beginning with the truth of our very hearts and lives will allow us to step boldly out our front doors and into the realities of today.
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Comment (1)
6:03 AM
"Ah, yes, yes, yes, and yes!" Unfortunately, I think that it has taken a trip across the world for me to realize that truth is not something that is simply told. People (especially here) are sick of HEARING about "The Good Life" and then seeing our TV and listening to our music... because after all... we are considered a "Christian nation" right?
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