Little White Lies….

 

OK, admit it.  You’ve done it yourself.  Your 5-year-old asked, “Mom, is there really a Santa Claus?”  The little soccer player that lives in your home wonders aloud, “Dad, do you think I’m the best player on my team?”  Your wife asks your opinion about a new outfit: “Honey, does this make me look…”.  No, I’m not even going to go there.

A "little white lie" could be defined as “a small, harmless untruth or half-truth, usually told to avoid hurting someone's feelings or to be polite.”  We understand when we tell these “little lies” that our intent was innocent; our purpose was to avoid an awkward situation; or we believe the “little lie” wouldn’t have any real consequences.  We all get it.

But didn’t your mother teach you that “Honesty is the best policy.”  Growing up you heard stories about little George Washington admitting that he did, in fact, chop down the cherry tree – “I cannot tell a lie…” – and you were urged to be just as honest as little George.  IS honesty really the best policy ALL the time, and how do we make that determination?

What does the Bible teach us?  How about a couple of examples from the many available:

The Lord detests lying lips, but he delights in those who tell the truth.  Proverbs 12:22

So stop telling lies. Let us tell our neighbors the truth, for we are all parts of the same body.  Ephesians 4:25

If we’re not supposed to lie and we do it anyway, what happens?  And who gets to decide if it’s OK in the moment?  Or is it NEVER OK?

Abraham from the Old Testament faced such a dilemma.  He and his wife, Sarah, set up their tents in the lands of a new king, Abimelech.  Here’s what happened:

Abraham introduced his wife, Sarah, by saying, “She is my sister.” So, King Abimelech of Gerar sent for Sarah and had her brought to him at his palace.  Genesis 20:2

Look out!  Now Abraham has really stepped in it.  The king wants his wife for himself because Abraham told a little white lie.  Seems like a BIG one, right?  But look at the full truth that came out when Abraham was questioned by Abimelech:

Whatever possessed you to do such a thing?”   Abraham replied, “I thought, ‘This is a godless place. They will want my wife and will kill me to get her.’   And she really is my sister, for we both have the same father, but different mothers.  And I married her.   When God called me to leave my father’s home and to travel from place to place, I told her, ‘Do me a favor. Wherever we go, tell the people that I am your brother.’”  Genesis 20:10-13

For now, can we just skip over the part where Abraham married his half-sister and get back to the “white lie” business?  Different time, different world.  Forget too, the apparent lack of chivalry in Abraham’s reasoning process.  He told a half-truth – a “white lie” – to avoid a bad situation.  

God didn’t condone it, but He still protected Abraham.  He didn't approve of Abraham's deception, but He did remain faithful to His covenant with him.  Abraham's failure did not cancel God's faithfulness. 

God understands our fears.  He acknowledges that, try as we might, we don’t always step up with integrity and truthfulness.  HE is full of integrity, truth, and righteousness, and we are called to be His image-bearers in this world.  We’ll make mistakes and err in judgment more often than we’d like, and way more than God would desire.  But He still loves and protects us.

How did the story with Abraham and Abimelech end?  The king restored Sarah to Abraham having never touched her, gave Abraham generous gifts showing his sorrow for taking her, and publicly acknowledged Abraham's innocence.  In turn, 

“…Abraham prayed to God, and God healed Abimelech, his wife, and his female servants, so they could have children.”   Genesis 20:17

The next time you think about telling a little white lie, remember that you are a representative of the God of Creation as the words pass your lips.  The apostle Paul reminds us in Ephesians 4:15 to “speak the truth in love.”  What does that mean?  It means that truth is meant to help people, not to hurt them.  It means you must care as much about the person as you do about the facts you share.  

So, when you speak the truth in love, seeing others with the heart of your Heavenly Father, then it’s OK to say, “Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus.”

Jacob

When 2+2 Doesn’t Always Equal 4

 In 1999, NASA launched the $125 million Mars Climate Orbiter. It was a masterpiece of engineering, built by some of the smartest minds on the planet. Yet, as it approached the Red Planet, the spacecraft vanished and was destroyed.  The reason? A math error.

One engineering team used the metric system. Another team used imperial feet and pounds. Both teams did their calculations perfectly, but they were operating on two completely different standards. The math just didn’t add up.  Crunch.

Sometimes life is like that.  We do all the calculations, but life isn’t adding up like we expected.  We may not say it out loud, but most of us carry around a certain equation in our brains:

If I do what is right, things should go well.  

If I do wrong, eventually it should catch up with me.

It feels fair. Ordered. Predictable.  And yet experience keeps interrupting the formula.

The hardworking father loses his job.   The godly woman gets the diagnosis she never expected.  A child suffers.  A marriage falls apart.  Why?

Meanwhile someone dishonest prospers. Someone careless flourishes. Someone who seems to ignore God altogether appears to move through life untouched.  WHY?!  That's the question that challenges our math.

The old songwriter Asaph knew that tension well. In Psalm 73, he admitted that he envied the wicked because they seemed to have everything while the faithful seemed to carry all the burdens.  

And then there is Job.

The Book of Job unsettles us because it refuses easy answers.  Job is described as blameless and upright, yet he loses everything – his possessions, his children, his health, even his standing among friends.  His companions arrive convinced they already know why.  “You must have done something wrong” they say.  That assumption feels ancient, but it has never really left us.

We still ask it when tragedy strikes, “What happened?”  “Who’s at fault?”  “What did they do?”

Job’s friends believed suffering could be measured and explained – that pain was the direct result of personal wrongdoing.  But the reader is allowed to see what Job cannot: his suffering was not punishment.  It was not simple.  It was not the neat outcome of moral cause and effect.  And that matters.

Because it reminds us that suffering is not always evidence of God’s displeasure, just as prosperity is not always evidence of His favor.

We live in a broken world.  A world touched by sin.  Scarred by evil.  Groaning under the weight of the fall.  Bad things happen – not always because someone has done bad things, but because we live here – not in Eden.  That realization can feel troubling at first. But it can also be strangely freeing.  Because if suffering is not always punishment, then it is not always proof that God has abandoned us.

In the Bible, Job never receives an explanation for his suffering.  God never walks him through the details.  Instead, God gives Job something greater – His presence.

And in the end Job’s peace comes not from finally understanding everything – but from seeing God more clearly than before.  Perhaps that's why the book still speaks so powerfully.  Not because it solves the mystery of suffering.  But because it meets us in the midst of our suffering.

Yes, sometimes the wicked prosper.  Sometimes the faithful suffer.  Sometimes life refuses to follow our formulas.  And God is still God.

Still present.

Still sovereign.

Still worthy of trust.

Even when the equation doesn’t balance.

Jacob