Speaking the Truth in... Excuse Me, What?

Speaking the truth in love is a fundamental element of Christian maturity. It’s also a great way to live all of life. Speak truth. Be loving. The way those words roll off my tongue though? It’s like saying the words, “Climb Mt. Everest.” 

The words are easy. The reality is complicated. 

Pixabay: Simon

It’s so much easier to get truth than to show love. Truth is input. Love is output. One is passive, and the other is active. Maybe knowing truth is like seeing the mountain, and love is making the climb. 

What would that look like in practice? 

Love needs wisdom. As a recent entry in my journal says: WISDOM IS A HARSH FILTER. Sometimes love is a boldness to speak up into a terrifying silence. Many other times it's a force that quiets, slows, squelches. Sometimes silence itself is an act of love. Wisdom knows the difference. Every word I let out is supposed to go through that filter. Oh, Lord. 

My intuitive reaction to the world is sometimes a mere microsecond of: I think it. I feel it. It’s true... Imma say it.

Speaking the truth is simple. It’s base camp. It’s a comfort zone.

Speaking the truth in love is leaving base camp for heights that will strangle the breath out of me. It's about me decreasing. It means part of me has to die. 

Pixabay: Russell_Yan

These questions (which I’ve posted elsewhere and combined here) articulate some of the filters that love would impose on my impulses:

• Do my so-called good intentions purify the words flying out my mouth, or through my fingers? Is this loving? 
• Am I so happy I hit a bullseye that I’m unbothered throwing darts at people’s hearts?
• Am I more concerned with being right, or with allowing someone to see the beauty of the truth in question?
• Am I focused on carrying a message, or am I just another snarky attitude?
• Am I rushing in to prove them wrong, or am I open to an honest, two-sided conversation?
• Am I listening? Am I willing to learn? Able to admit when I’m wrong or ignorant? Am I asking questions? 
• If people react negatively, are they responding to my attitude or the message itself?
• What can this relationship handle? Are they open and comfortable to ask questions? Am I staying on topic to what they are open to?
• Am I in a spirit of setting them straight, or of sharing hope?
• Am I so confident of a truth that I’m arrogant (and sinning) about being right?
• Was my motive truly filtered through wisdom, humility, empathy, kindness, patience…?
• Should I slow down and pause before responding? Did I give God a chance to direct me?
• Would it be better to delete the words or close my mouth?

In other words, it’s rarefied air up there. 

Pixabay: 12019

One more similarity between Everest and speaking the truth in love: Only fools go it alone. Climbers take Everest in teams, because rarely can it be conquered solo. They carry supplementary oxygen, because the peak is beyond the reach of most raw human power. The mountain is a force to be reckoned with. 

My own tongue is just as deadly a force, only more absolute. I can speak like a fire out of control, burning with the flames of Hell. I'm not being dramatic. That's in the Bible. My words can defile my body and cancel out my entire religion. My tongue--my language--is a force I can't overcome on my own. 

We sing songs like "God of miracles, signs, and wonders..." because that's who our God is. If I believe God can raise the dead, and heal the sick, I must also hold fast to the promise that He can manage the outrageous task of helping me learn to speak the truth in love. That will be no less of a sign, a miracle, and a wonder. 

"With men this is impossible, but with God all things are possible."

- Matthew 19:26