The Peril of Festering Falsehood
by Kevin OffnerAmong the Ten Commandments sits one that has been on my mind lately. It's the ninth: "You shall not bear false witness." You'll find variations all through the Bible. In the New Testament, the Apostle Paul exhorts us to "put away falsehood and speak the truth with [our] neighbor." Our Lord himself commands us, "Let your 'yes' be 'yes' and your 'no' be 'no.'" I'm sure none of us needs convincing that it's God's will that we be people who always tell the truth.
Most of us would say we are basically truthful people. But falsehood festers and grows in small cracks in our character, and can become a real peril for campus leaders. I've been noticing a tendency within me which has gradually grown stronger over the years and has remained largely unchecked: I've been growing lax in my honesty. I don't mean that I tell huge lies. And I'm certainly not a dishonest person, mind you. But I think I'm slowly becoming less careful here. My conscience has become seared (oh, so gradually) over the years to the point where I now feel little guilt at some of the places where I once did feel guilt.
We call them white lies or half truths. We aren't being 100 percent honest, but then, well, you see, we have a good excuse. Here's an example: just last week I was twenty minutes late for an appointment with a student. I had been running nineteen minutes late (due to my own chronic tendency of trying to squeeze too much out of a day), and just as I was walking out the door, the phone rang. Instead of letting it ring, I answered it. I talked for less than sixty seconds. When I finally met the student, I said the following: "I'm so sorry I'm late. I was walking out the door and the phone rang. . ."
In that short excuse I tried to save face in a number of ways. First, I was communicating, "I would have been on time if it weren't for that phone call," which was dead false: I would've been nineteen minutes late instead of twenty. By not filling in the whole picture, I left him (intentionally) with a false picture. Second, I was passing the blame on to the telephone caller rather than owning my tardiness as my own fault. Third, I was implying that, "well, of course, I had wanted to be on time, but, you see, circumstances beyond my control prevented me . . ." In actuality, I did not want to be on time very strongly, or I would have been. (The honest thing to say here would have been, "I could have been on time, but I chose to place a higher priority on other things than you." But who's going to say that?!)
Then there are lies that are more than just white lies. Sometimes, I confess, I catch myself simply out-and-out lying. I tell someone I'm meeting with, "It's really good to see you; I've been looking forward to this," when, in fact, this is one person I simply don't enjoy being with. Or I answer an early morning phone caller's question, "Gee, did I wake you?" with an, "Oh, no, I've been up for more than twenty minutes." In fact, yes, she did wake me. Or I tell the waitstaff after ordering only a muffin and coffee that I'll "order more when my friend joins me." Because it looks bad to tie up a table with such a small order, I lie, knowing all along that I am expecting no friend.
Why do we lie? I think it's because we want to protect ourselves from the consequences of our sin. We want to save face. The truth is often too embarrassing, messy and even painful, so let's just take that shortcut, tell that little lie, and get on with our day. We lie because we don't want to be found out; we want others to think better of us than they should. And, besides, no one, it seems, is really hurt by a lie as one is by, say, adultery or murder. Just cover it up - no one need ever know.
What's scary is how little guilt we feel about it all. I mean, let's admit it: everyone tells "white lies,'' right? It's not that big a deal. No one's perfect. In fact, I doubt if any of us could go one whole week without telling at least one small lie as an excuse. So let's not be too hard on ourselves . . .
But no! Once again, we have fallen prey to taking our cues from our culture instead of our King. We have been redeemed by the very blood of Christ. We are no longer children of the darkness but have been miraculously brought into the kingdom of light. We are to tell the truth because God tells the truth; Jesus Christ is the Truth, and we have put on "the new self which is being renewed in knowledge according to the image of its creator" (Colossians 3:10).
James tells us that those who control the tongue are able to control the whole body (James 3:2). Whether it's gossip or lying, we need to stop it - and we need to stop it now. Today. This isn't mere moralism or works righteousness. It's obedience.
But of course we must not stop here. Lying, just like every sin, begins not with the tongue but in the heart. Fresh discoveries of our lying only underscore what we've known all along: we are sinners and we need Jesus. Daily. In fact, every single time we open our mouths.
Permission is granted to make and distribute verbatim copies of this article for educational purposes provided this permission notice, and the copyright notice below are preserved on all copies. Not to be reprinted in any other publication without permission. © 1997 InterVarsity Christian Fellowship of the USA. All rights reserved. This article first appeared in the Fall 1997 issue of Student Leadership Journal®.
Unless otherwise noted, all materials on the urbana.org web site are Copyright InterVarsity Christian Fellowship / USA. All rights reserved.
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