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| I Can Tell the Truth
by Kimberlee Conway Ireton
 My youngest daughter asked me to read to her. The book she handed me was Plain Living, a collection of quotes by Quaker writers. The bookmark lay on a page called “plain speech,” and I read aloud these words from Richard Foster:
Develop a habit of plain honest speech … Make honesty and integrity the distinguishing characteristics of your speech.
My daughter squirmed and wanted down. Apparently, these weren’t the words she wanted.
They weren’t the words I wanted, either, for they convicted me at once of how a lie or half-truth or misrepresentation of the truth is often the first response that comes to mind. It’s a holdover from my childhood when “getting in trouble” was the worst thing I could think of, worse even than lying, and of my adolescence when I so keenly felt myself an outsider and so desperately wanted to belong.
Rather than developing “a habit of plain honest speech,” I have developed a habit of figuring out how to best spin the truth—or of outright lying—in order to fit in with, impress or placate whomever I’m with.
Last Friday, for instance, I found myself with some friends who are not Christians. Three times in the space of maybe five minutes, I said, “Oh my God!” The first time, I claimed to be quoting an email, but those words weren’t actually in the email I was referring to, so that was a bald-faced lie. The other two times, I was trying to convince myself that I hadn’t actually lied, as if telling a lie more often makes it true.
And in all this vain use of God’s name, I was trying to say to these women, “Hey, I’m no different from you” — which is also a lie because I am different. I am a Christian and they are not. My faith matters to me, deeply. But instead of owning that essential part of myself, I abandoned it and hid behind a lie, an implication of something that isn’t true.
I knew my words weren’t true. Even as I said them again and then again, I felt ashamed for speaking them. I excused myself to the bathroom and prayed for forgiveness. I returned with the resolve of letting these women experience the weight of who I am — and of letting them deal with it.
I can stop trying to protect people from myself. I can stop trying to hide who I am. I can stop pretending to be less—or more—than I am.
I can tell the truth.
Kimberlee Conway Ireton is the author of "The Circle of Seasons: Meeting God in the Church Year" (InterVarsity Press, 2008). |
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