It was just a little lie

The first Brandon Heath song I heard was one called, "I'm not who I was." Some of the lyrics include, "I write about love and such, I guess because I want it so much..." Substitute truth, and there I am. I write about truth, and I try, try, try to leave my variety of the truth out of the equation.

So, yesterday was a difficult day for me, because truth was so hard to find.

First, there's the Manti T'eo saga. Notre Dame football star loses girl friend and grandmother within days of each other to cancer. Goes out and wins game at Michigan State on their behalf, pausing in the end zone to raise his fingers to heaven. Says he'll see them again some day. Truth: There is no girl friend, he's never seen her, so he can't see her again. She didn't exist. It was a hoax. Only who the hoaxers were is still to be discovered in their entirety.

Then there's Lance Armstrong, the multi-race winner in cycling. He overcame cancer, battled through everything, won seven Tour de Frances. Never cheated, never caught. Yay. Truth: He doped just like everyone else. Cheated like a seven-timing husband. Oh, the cancer was real this time.

Then to top the day off, Subway's foot-long sandwich is 11 inches. Oh, the depravity and lies. Truth: If you squish it just right, you can make it a foot long.

Jesus told us he was the way, the truth, and the life. Problem is, we just can't understand that, can't apply that, can't even seek it.

I know. I've told this in a book before, but I messed with my resume when I was hired at a newspaper in Nevada. I was already hired when I discovered they only hired graduates of college. I wasn't. My work record had them all aflutter, however, so, I just adjusted the final 27 hours I needed. I didn't do that before or after, but it haunted me a while.

Truth is such a valuable commodity. But what I've learned is one little lie becomes a bigger one that becomes a bigger one till you've got girl friends you've met, though they don't exist, and you've got rationalization for doping (it made it a level playing field), and you've got short sandwiches for no reason.

Pilate asked Jesus what is truth. Jesus stood before him, glaring, without answering. I think the answer was standing before Pilate glaring.

I can't be truthful, when I hide my sin. I can't be truthful when I try to be something I'm not. I can't be truthful without admitting my glaring problems to a God who wants simply to forgiven them.

It is in the grace I receive that the truth is born. I wish it for all of the above, and for me today when a little while lie threatens to bubble up for no good reason other than I'm a sinner who still, still, still needs a savior.