“But what is the truth?!”
My little dog Stilton, who was rudely awakened from his nap on the couch, cocked his head at me questioningly, quickly deduced that no treat would result from this exasperated declaration to an otherwise empty living room, and flopped his head back down to resume his slumber. Humans, why are they always yelling at the telly these days? They should follow my example and take more naps.
It started out as just another evening watching the ever-riveting world news, where, in recent weeks, reporting on the deadly spread of the coronavirus has firmly taken the front seat. But this week is especially foreboding. The President solemnly (and judiciously) predicted that “there will be a lot of death” and that it would be one of the “toughest weeks ever.” News anchors and medical experts speculated that dangerous peaks in the numbers of those afflicted are yet to come. Even the Surgeon General warned that this will be our “Pearl Harbor moment.” This was on Sunday. Fast forward 12 hours to Monday morning where the nation was greeted with a tweet from President Trump announcing cheerily “LIGHT AT THE END OF THE TUNNEL!” Whiplash. How can two such polar-opposite pronouncements be made in such close proximity and how can both be true? What magically changed overnight? Not being sure of who or what to believe is a sad yet increasingly common symptom of our current political climate.
The question of what truth is spans the ages. As I was mulling over my frustrations with how truth, or the lack or it, is being presented these days, I was reminded of someone who—in this very week over 2000 years ago—asked the same question, “What is truth?” Pontius Pilate, the Roman Governor of Judaea—the one who came face to face with Jesus just days before his death—asked this very question of the reputed King of the Jews. Whether Pilate was asking the question mockingly, or whether he was seriously pondering the philosophical question of truth, has been a matter of debate for centuries. But the validity of the questions stands. What is truth?
Easter is a time when Christians around the world remember the crucifixion and resurrection of the one who they believe is the “way, the truth, and the life” (John 14:6). The horror of Good Friday, marked with mourning as believers recall the brutal nature of the death of the one who had come as Emmanuel, God with us, transforms to the joy of resurrection on Easter Sunday.
In the moments (and there have been many) when I’ve wondered what God is like, I look at the person of Jesus, because therein is a reflection of the character of God. I love how he treated people. He embraced the outcasts—those that the “righteous” religious leaders deemed unclean or unreachable. He had compassion for those who were suffering or in pain, and often healed them. His life-giving words released people from shame and fear, and restored identity. He respected women and embraced the simple faith of children. He always spoke about the importance of truth. He offered hope, not just for the present, but for the future. He instilled purpose and meaning. At the same time, he was unrelenting with those who thought they knew it all, or who considered themselves above the law. And he certainly wasn’t afraid to confront those who claimed to know the truth, but who weren’t practicing it themselves. According to Jesus, God is at the same time just and loving.
C.S. Lewis advised, “If you look for truth, you may find comfort in the end; if you look for comfort you will not get either comfort or truth only soft soap and wishful thinking to begin, and in the end, despair.”
To me this suggests that it’s hard work to find the truth and that it is often uncomfortable. It’s not just an easy option to say “I believe this or that.” Truth requires commitment and strength. It requires facts and basis, the weighing of all sides, careful thought, and respect. And it is a weighty responsibility that should be approached with care. If you are a leader, what you say or don’t say can deeply affect people.
Especially in this Easter week, I’m determined to seek truth, whatever that may mean. It’s all too easy to let exasperation linger without seeking a constructive response. How can questions or frustrations be channeled in such a way that they effectuate truth? Perhaps pausing to ask the question, “What is truth?” is a good place to start. And then taking time to listen to that still, small voice and to respond accordingly.
