To Tell the Truth

 
 

Many of us reading this will remember the original version of the television game show, To Tell The Truth. It ran on CBS from 1956-1968 and was produced by the well-known Goodson-Todman team. People like John Cameron Swayze, Kitty Carlisle, Gene Rayburn, Tom Poston, Bud Collyer, and Gary Moore were a part of the show’s appeal. Johnny Carson was on the panel in 1956!

The plot of the game was that three people would come before a panel of four people and tell a story about their lives. Two were imposters, one was telling the truth. The panel’s job was to try and determine who was telling the truth. 

The show has had several remakes and, according to one source I read, has had at least one episode broadcast in seven consecutive decades. The Price is Right is the only other game show for which that is true. 

We are living in an age when, deep within our own hearts, we may be wishing that someone would simply “tell the truth.” The twenty-four hour news cycles bombast us with “breaking news” and “news alerts” about things we have no way of knowing what the real truth is. Depending on your political point of view, we often pre-determine that some news outlets lie, others tell the truth. But how do we know?

But it isn’t just the media. The Me Too movement has generated all sorts of indicators that over the years no one had the courage “to tell the truth.” Now that some have decided “to tell the truth” about things that happened to them, we are discovering that they themselves didn’t “tell the truth” about what they did to others.

What about the Penn State abuse issue and its cover up? Or the US Olympics gymnastics problems? Or the current Ohio State football issues? 

If all of those kinds of issues aren’t challenging enough – the news is frequently littered with stories of churches where pastors and other leaders simply did not “tell the truth” about what was going on behind the scenes.

One of the issues that makes “telling the truth” so important is that truth telling is a character issue more than a behavior issue. I often tell students that there is no “behavior” issue I won’t try and help them address appropriately. But, if you don’t “tell the truth” about the issue, that’s a character issue and is much harder to fix unless we repent and “tell the truth.” 

There is so much in our culture right now that is disturbing. I can’t help but think if we would follow Paul’s advice in Colossians 3:9, “Stop lying to one another, seeing that you have put off the old self with is practices,” we could take a huge step in the right direction of “pursuing what makes for peace and mutual upbuilding.” (Romans 14:19)

To Tell the Truth – more than a game show title!

Remember Sarah Who Bore You

After the narrative of Abraham and Sarah in Genesis, the name Sarah only appears once in the entire Hebrew Bible – Isaiah 52:9. That text says “Look to Abraham your father and to Sarah who bore you; for he was but one when I called him, that I might bless him and multiply him.” (ESV)

In that text, the Lord declares to His people who are pursuing righteousness and seeking him, “look to the rock from which you were hewn, and to the quarry from which you were dug.” (51:1) Then comes the “remember Sarah who bore you” comment. Whatever else these words might suggest, it seems impossible that they don’t serve as a reminder that Israel can ill afford to assume that there weren’t people of God who existed before them. In fact they can’t afford to think they could exist without the lives of those who came before them. 

It is so easy to slip into an attitude that suggests the present life we live and enjoy “just happened.”  Isaiah seems to think that if we are “pursuing righteousness” and “seeking the Lord” we ought to “remember Sarah who bore us.” It intrigues me that the only other place in the Hebrew Bible her name gets mentioned after Genesis is in a reminder that we shouldn’t forget how we got here.

I am currently sitting in my office looking around. I sit behind a desk that was given to me by an elder form First Christian in Tyrone who was one of the most authentic, spiritual people I’ve ever known. I learned tons about life, Jesus, and serving God sitting up all night with him while he barbecued pigs for the church’s homecoming dinner on the grounds every fall.

I didn’t just get here.

I can look at my book shelves. I see books given to me by Professor Jim Evans, who taught me Greek, how to really engage Scripture, and a lot of other stuff about life. I have a book or two from Professor Roy McKinney, who took me under his wings as a young college professor and made me what I ought to be, not what I might have been. That list could keep going, but you see the point.

I didn’t just get here.

Hanging on the wall not too far from where I’m sitting, there is an ordination certificate from Russellville Christian Church, the little country church I grew up in in South Carolina. There are eleven signatures on that certificate – one of them from my Dad and one from my Dad’s brother, Uncle Billy. Only two of those people are still alive, but forty-plus years ago they thought I was trustworthy enough to be set apart for ministry.

I didn’t just get here.

I have the privilege every semester to walk into classrooms at Point University and teach young adults about Jesus and His kingdom. But would those classrooms even be here were it not for those who stood in similar rooms before me – in many cases, before I was even born? Point has better programs, better prepared professors, a broader curriculum, and all kinds of “better” than we once did – but could that “better” exist had it not been for those who went before us?

I didn’t just get here.

I live in a place where I have lots of personal freedom. But I know that didn’t just happen and thousands upon thousands paid high prices for me to have the freedom to write this blog and post it without fear of being arrested like Bonhoeffer was for doing similar things in his world. Obviously all of our history isn’t good – some of it is, quite frankly, embarrassing. The history of Israel was exactly perfect either, but God seems comfortable telling His people “Look to Abraham your father and to Sarah who bore you.” 

I didn’t just get here.

I can look out of my second-floor office windows onto the Denver and Helen Sizemore Courtyard at Point’s J. Smith Lanier II Academic Center. If you know anything about Point and its history, that sentence has a ton of “remember Sarah who bore you” in it! The floor of the courtyard has a huge collection of engraved bricks that lots of people purchased in memory of Point-connected people. I can’t read the names from my office, but sometimes I just go down there and read names.

I didn’t just get here.

For the last chapel service of the Spring 2018 semester, we focused on the theme “Hope: Discover Life by Continuing the Story.” I still have the wrist band on my arm with “Continue the Story” written on it. (I still have some of these wrist bands, if you would like one, send me an address and I’ll mail it to you.) God has been writing a story for centuries – and without that story, we simply wouldn’t be here. I can’t “continue the story” without “remembering Sarah who bore me.”

As a preacher, I always dreaded preaching on Mother’s Day. The only Mother’s Day sermon I preached that I still remember was titled “Remember Sarah Who Bore You.” I gave a healthy nod to the fact that while we talk a lot about Abraham, there would be no Isaac with Sarah. It was barren, old Sarah who, like Abraham, trusted God and the first huge step toward “the fullness of time” was taken.

I didn’t just get here.

Revisionist history can be a dangerous practice if we are studying world history, U.S. history, the history of any part of our existence.

But it is never more dangerous than when those of us who claim to be seeking righteousness and the Lord forget to “remember Sarah who bore us.” 

We didn’t just get here.

To Be Killed By a Mocking Bird . . . With Apologies to Harper Lee

Growing up on a farm I learned at an early point in life that the world God created is pretty interesting. Among my earliest “remembered thoughts” is fascination with the fact that you could plant a little seed with fuzzy stuff on its outside in the spring, and by early fall it will have produced cotton. From the barely peaking out from under the soil first sight of something amazing, to beautiful white flowers that turn pink by the end of the day with the bees have finished their work, to “bolls” that are hard, green, and pointy, and finally to those bolls bursting open with beautiful white cotton – with more of those fuzzy little seeds. 

Next time you put on a clean, fresh cotton shirt – you might want to say a little prayer of thanksgiving for the way the good Lord made creation!

I have early memories of dairy cows. At my grandfather’s dairy farm, they all had names. I was pretty young when I knew I could call them all by name. One was called “Themesong” because the grandkids came home from Vacation Bible School singing the “themesong” about the time she was born. There was April, May, and June as I remember, and Queen – her name says all that needs to be said. I remember the morning my grandfather told me April had died overnight giving birth to a new calf. She was brown and white in color, and had deep, brown eyes. I can still see her in my imagination. 

I’m not a vegetarian, but honestly if I start thinking about April and her friends while eating steak, it makes eating very difficult.

When I was about twelve, I remember killing a pretty big rattle snake (remember this is the South Carolina low country where I’m growing up!) with my BB rifle. I shot it right between the eyes somehow and it died. Out in the woods – where I always would go when opportunity arose – had the snake bitten me you’d probably need to visit me at my grave at Russellville Christian Church cemetery. I think my mother wondered if she had given birth to the next Chuck Connors and The Rifleman or perhaps God must have something planned for me.

If you pay attention, there are lots of observations from nature that will get you on your knees thanking God.

When Point University moved from East Point to West Point, more than a few people asked me “When are you moving to West Point?” I have nothing against West Point and am thrilled when I see the impact Point has had on this little town and its surroundings, but my answer was (and is) “I’m not.” That was always followed with “you’re going to drive to West Point from Tyrone every day?” The answer, “Yes, it’s not that far!”

When people pressed further on this issue I often say, “I’ve spent too much time and too many dollars in my yard – I can’t walk away from that.”  Creation – plant life as well as creatures – is way too fascinating to ignore.

In my yard in Tyrone I have plants given to me by people like Ramona Brown, John Wade, Orval Morgan, our neighbors in East Point the Burnetts, Irma Redmon, the old ACC campus,  the Petenbrinks, my parents, my good friends the Atkinsons, and others. I can walk around and show you plants given to us when mine and Vicki’s parents died over the years, plants given to us when one of us was hospitalized, and plants we saw somewhere and just bought. We have plants that were on the pool deck at Vicki’s mother’s home in St. Petersburg when she died and I’ve kept them going, rooted new versions, and shared with others – even in the more challenging north Georgia climate for “Florida comfortable” plants.  

If we just slow down enough to notice, creation is amazing. Or, as the psalmist declared, “The heavens declare the glory of God.” (Ps. 19:1-6)

Yesterday I was with our oldest daughter Sarah as she was moving into her new house. We were at the storage facility where her worldly possessions were being loaded by movers to be taken to her new home. I went over to my car to get a drink of iced coffee I had left there. As I went to open the door there was a huge praying mantis right by the handle. I jumped back – insects make me nervous

Here he (or she!) is: 

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I decided maybe I wasn’t thirsty after all and walked away, hoping it would be gone by the time I came back. Thirty or so minutes later, I came back and sure enough, it was still there. I went around to the back and got a magazine from a box I was taking to Sarah’s. I brushed the mantis away. I thought they were more hoppers – but this dude could fly. He went sailing across the parking lot doing all sorts of mantis acrobatics.

Finally he was about 150 feet away, flying over the top of the moving truck, when out of nowhere a mocking bird came into sight. I don’t know if the mocking bird missed on the first dive bomb or was doing some sort of set up maneuver, but it missed on the first effort.

The mocking bird quickly did a few acrobatics itself and came up from under and behind the mantis and grabbed it. The mantis lost that battle, but the mocking bird family must have had a feast. It was at least four inches long and in my imagination I can see a little family of baby mocking birds thinking “Man, what parents we have!” At some point, it is all about perspective. 

If you’re the mantis, you are probably thinking “If that guy would have just left me alone I’d still be here.”  If you’re the mocking bird, you might think, “What a great guy – he made the mantis fly right in front of me and look at the lunch we had!”

That little story may be a pretty good reminder that while creation does bear witness to God’s “invisible attributes, namely, his eternal power and divine nature,” (Romans 1:20) we should temper our observations from creation with “the law of the Lord” and “the testimony of the Lord” which are “perfect” and “sure.” (Ps. 19:7-11)

Like creation and Scripture – Psalm 19 remains a mystery to me. It seems that when I pay attention to the world God made around me and engage in His intentional revelation in the Word (ultimately “the Word that became flesh" – John 1:14) I have a much better potential to achieve a place in life where “the words of my mouth and the meditations of my heart be acceptable in your sight, O Lord, my rock and my redeemer.” (Ps. 19:14)

If you’re wondering, this may be why I keep telling Point students and anyone else who might occasionally listen to me: read Scripture outside and pay attention to both creation and the Word!

If that mantis could write a book it would surely need to be titled, To Be Killed by a Mocking Bird. I can only wonder what the plot line would be. I’m pretty sure I’d get blamed for its demise!