We don't consider ourselves liars.
We don't have a pathological condition. We don't lie to our parents about where we were last night. We don't lie to our boss about our duties. We don't lie to our banker about our accounts or our friends about whether we hate Mexican food or not.
Rather, we've sort of puffed ourselves up as pretty honest folks. Sure, some of those Ten Commandments can be troubling, but number nine doesn't usually trip us up.
Or so we think.
As of late I have begun to notice a sticky and uncomfortable habit that has leaked into my words - I have begun to say things I don't mean (and mean things I don't say).
And I think you might have this problem too.
Someone asks me how my day is going. Frankly, it's going miserably. But instead I say, "Great!"
A friend shares an urgent prayer request and I hastily assure her, "I'll be praying for you." But I never do.
I consider myself so busy that I complain about not having enough time for reading. Yet I watch four movies this week.
As innocuous as this habit may seem, in each of these situations, I am lying. Our words are desperately important. God will judge these words.
That's why it's essential that you say what you mean (and mean what you say). God detests lying (Numbers 23:19; Proverbs 6:16-19; John 4:24).
If someone asks how my day is going and it's going terribly, I could have said, "Well, it's been a difficult day but I'm doing alright."
If a friend shares an urgent prayer request, I could have stopped and prayed right there, thus being able to assure her that I just prayed for her.
If I feel like I'm not getting enough time for reading because I'm watching too much television, I need to say that and try to change my habit.
Words are not meaningless. Words are also permanent; you can never take them back.
No matter how much we try to puff ourselves up with our own self-righteousness, an unfortunate truth remains: we are liars.
But God is truth. And when Christ died, our deceit, our exaggeration, our lies were nailed to that cross. And once we see the weight of our lies, our words, we can see the magnitude of God's mercy. And we can see the new life we have been called to: to walk in truth - no matter the cost.
Photo Courtesy of Flickr Creative Commons and Mustafa Khayat.
We don't have a pathological condition. We don't lie to our parents about where we were last night. We don't lie to our boss about our duties. We don't lie to our banker about our accounts or our friends about whether we hate Mexican food or not.
Rather, we've sort of puffed ourselves up as pretty honest folks. Sure, some of those Ten Commandments can be troubling, but number nine doesn't usually trip us up.
Or so we think.
As of late I have begun to notice a sticky and uncomfortable habit that has leaked into my words - I have begun to say things I don't mean (and mean things I don't say).
And I think you might have this problem too.
Someone asks me how my day is going. Frankly, it's going miserably. But instead I say, "Great!"
A friend shares an urgent prayer request and I hastily assure her, "I'll be praying for you." But I never do.
I consider myself so busy that I complain about not having enough time for reading. Yet I watch four movies this week.
As innocuous as this habit may seem, in each of these situations, I am lying. Our words are desperately important. God will judge these words.
That's why it's essential that you say what you mean (and mean what you say). God detests lying (Numbers 23:19; Proverbs 6:16-19; John 4:24).
If someone asks how my day is going and it's going terribly, I could have said, "Well, it's been a difficult day but I'm doing alright."
If a friend shares an urgent prayer request, I could have stopped and prayed right there, thus being able to assure her that I just prayed for her.
If I feel like I'm not getting enough time for reading because I'm watching too much television, I need to say that and try to change my habit.
Words are not meaningless. Words are also permanent; you can never take them back.
No matter how much we try to puff ourselves up with our own self-righteousness, an unfortunate truth remains: we are liars.
But God is truth. And when Christ died, our deceit, our exaggeration, our lies were nailed to that cross. And once we see the weight of our lies, our words, we can see the magnitude of God's mercy. And we can see the new life we have been called to: to walk in truth - no matter the cost.
"I rejoiced greatly to find some of your children walking in the truth, just as we were commanded by the Father" (2 John 1:4 ESV).
Photo Courtesy of Flickr Creative Commons and Mustafa Khayat.