To Tell the Truth
Aristotle was the teacher of Alexander the Great and the student of Plato, one of the greatest philosophers, if not the greatest, in Western civilization. It may surprise us to learn that Aristotle often disagreed with his beloved teacher, and when asked why he sometimes refuted Plato’s teaching, he responded, “Because my love for truth is greater than my love for my teacher.” Aristotle’s priority of truth, above his love for Plato, can serve as a lesson in our highly polarized country—in politics and religion.
Many of us are guilty of loving our political or theological ideologies more than we love the truth. I read recently where the associates of an extreme right-wing radio personality admitted that the Info Wars waged to promote one conspiracy theory after another, were never about the truth. When the popular radio host, for instance, claimed that the murders of children at Sandy Hook elementary school never happened, he was not interested in truth, but simply moving forward his political agenda. The misinformation was intended to sow seeds of doubt regarding events considered unfavorable to his political ideology. He purposely flamed the fires of discord in our country without regard to truth. Unfortunately, millions of people listen to his malicious and misleading propaganda and believe his irresponsible broadcasts.
It can happen in religion too. Ideologies can shape not only our political views but our theological beliefs as well. Our motives may be well-intentioned, but if we are not driven by truth, then even good intentions can dishonor God. The Church Father Augustine believed that truth was a Christian’s highest calling. He wrote, “God has given me a mind to place the discovery of truth above all things, to wish for nothing else, to think of nothing else, to love nothing else.”
When I first read those words in seminary, I thought to myself, “Those are radical words. Is Augustine placing the love of truth even above his love for God? Isn’t that heresy? Aren’t we supposed to love God above everything else?
It took me a while before I could make peace with what Augustine was saying, and while there were many factors that contributed to my understanding, one particular experience played a key role in helping me to come to grips with the priority of truth. The revelation took place in a seminary classroom.
For weeks we had been told by our professor that we would have a guest lecturer who would present various arguments for the existence of God. We were all excited to hear this newly minted Ph.D. from a prestigious school in the east, and I arrived early to make sure I had a seat near the front.
The lecturer was a powerful speaker, tall and handsome, and had the class mesmerized with his learned arguments and eloquence. We were like stenographers, taking notes furiously in a shorthand that only we alone could decipher.
When he concluded his lecture, I felt that I had enough theological and philosophical ammunition to defeat any would be opponent to my faith. That is, until our professor began his gentle rebuttal to the guest lecturer’s points. One by one he kindly but firmly took the legs out from each defense of God that the guest lecturer had made. I, along with the rest of the class, grew uncomfortable with our professor’s counter-arguments. “Whose side is he on?” I thought to myself.
When he finished, the class was shattered. The visiting speaker sat with folded hands in a chair facing the students, with what I perceived as a faint smile on his face, as if he knew that all of his so called proofs for the existence of God had enough holes in them to drive a truck through. It slowly swept over me that his role that day had been to present the arguments for God’s existence, and he skillfully did just that, but all the while he, too, realized that there were rejoinders equally valid.
The professor attempted to do damage control. He sat on the edge of his desk and began to speak to the class as though he were comforting children, soothing our bruised egos. He slowly began to speak, “We all want proof of God, something that allows us to feel secure in our faith, but there are no objective facts that take away the risk of faith. And we must resist cheapening our faith by claiming more than what we can know.”
No one in the class questioned the professor’s commitment to God. He was deeply devoted to the Christian faith, but he was wise enough to realize that God’s kingdom is not served when we ignore inconvenient truths, just because they don’t fit into our theological framework.
I realized then that to place my faith in God meant that I had to allow truth to be my guide, even if that truth was at times uncomfortable. To put God above truth would not result in a purer or holier form of faith, but would devolve into idolatry, a form of self-worship. The temptation to create a god in our image has been with us from the beginning. Think of Adam and Eve in the Garden or the Israelites in the desert or Jesus’ disciples in their inability to grasp his mission--they all had one thing in common—they found comfort in beliefs that fit their own personal needs and desires. It was as difficult for them as it is for us to grasp that God’s ways are not our ways, and when we try to equate what we want with God’s will, we often lose touch with truth. And when we lose touch with truth, we lose touch with God.
Can you imagine what the world would be like if inventors, philosophers, scientists and theologians would have limited their work to what the Church deemed true? There was a time when the Church wore blinders and refused to evaluate any truth claim that did not fit their agenda. Scientific breakthroughs, new discoveries, and even translations of the Bible would have all remained locked behind veils of ignorance. The Middle Age Church had no need to search for truth, because they believed they already had the truth. Today we look back on that period and call it the Dark Ages.
We live in a deeply fragmented society where truth often correlates with how we feel about something or what our favorite pundit tells us. The world is complicated and to settle with half-truths or even falsehoods can sometimes release us from having to think for ourselves or struggle with a controversial subject. Besides, who wants to go through the pain of having to reconsider what we have always believed? It’s deeply unsettling to realize that what we thought to be true was only a comforting prejudice.
Jeremiah reminds us that we will find God only when we search for him with all of our hearts (Jer. 29:13). Don’t settle for easy gods, Jeremiah seems to be telling us. God does not give himself to casual curiosity seekers. Jeremiah understood how easy it is to become satisfied with a false god, a god who makes us feel good, a god who sees the world the way we do, a god who requires little of us. In order to get past the gods we create in our own image, we must keep searching, keep asking questions, keep committing ourselves to the truth. For God has given us a mind to place the discovery of truth above all things!
And what is true in matters of faith is true in every area of life.
