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Monday, January 14, 2013

Why I'm Dishonest

Is honesty that hard to practice? Why? When is it easy to be truthful? When is it hardest? In what area of life do you need to raise the level of honesty? (Serendipity Bible 10th Anniversary Edition, page 1065).

Why did I not volunteer to the professor that I I did not read the assignment for today? Probably for fear that my grade would be hurt, and I don't want to be thought by him or the class as a flake or, even worse, stupid and undisciplined. 

Why did I not tell my brother that I was concerned because his son's beautiful new beach house was in my view besmirched with liquor? Probably because I did not want to offend on the one hand, or look like a fanatic on the other who could not see anything good.

Why did I not tell my boss that I took an extra 20 minutes off for lunch? Probably because I would have had to take vacation time – that is, pay for my indiscretion.

Why is it that I do not tell everyone I meet about my most sensational sex activities ever? Probably because I think it would be inappropriate and furthermore, they don't want to know (hearing of it would make them feel uncomfortable). It would be inappropriate for I would taking pride in something anyone of a certain mind set could easily do--it is therefore a hollow accomplishment--like being extremely proud that I put on my socks this morning.

Why is it that I don't tell the speaker that he bored me to death? Probably because I don't want to hurt or offend and secondly because I feel there's always a possibility it was my fault and I was not fully "there".

Why didn't I tell my wife that I thought her new hairdo made her look ugly. Probably because I do not want to hurt her or our relationship--or be told the unvarnished truth about my own thinning head of hair.

Why don't I tell my Muslim son that I wish he were a Christian? Probably because in my mind the choice of religion has to be the best fit for the believer in question. I do not want to hurt or show lack of appreciation for the complexities and unknowns and unknowable’s of belief preferences.

Why don't I tell someone who is complaining about their situation that I think principally they are to blame? Probably because I doubt any misfortune can be identified entirely as one's own fault. The warp and woof of human experience simply doesn't allow for such simplistic certitude.

Why don't I like Christ rail at the pompous and self-righteous? Probably because unlike Jesus I am not perfect and I'm guilty of much the same. For me it would be the pot calling the kettle black. 

Why don't I tell the doctor that I did not follow his recommendation to walk 30 minutes a day? Probably because I don't want to get him mad at me and threatened to no longer serve me. I also don't want to admit that I am lazy and undisciplined.

Why don't I tell my Republican friends that I think all Republicans have an inveterate mean streak? Probably because I do not want them to think I am self-righteous. And probably because I do not want to hear what they truly think about the down and dirty character flaws of Democrats.

Why don't I tell the hostess that the dish she served me was tasteless mush? Probably because I know her intentions and efforts we honest and true and I value her love much more than the food on my fork. When someone gives their true best, I will seldom find it not good enough.

Why don't I face the fact that my dreams may never come true? Probably because my dreams give me a sense of worth, purpose, hope, and discipline; and, furthermore, I never want to adulterate my faith by saying that God cannot perform miracles.

Why is it that I color my hair so that does not look gray? Probably because I do not want to face the fact that I am getting older by the second. I don't want to look like an old man with washed out hair. (However, as time passes I am grateful for ANY hair.)

Why is it that I try not to look inpatient when standing in line at the checkout counter? Probably because I want to hide the fact that I think I am special and should always come first.

Why don't I admit that I didn't like or appreciate this or that hot book or movie? Because I don't want to look uncool or appear too shallow to appreciate exceptional art or its profundity.

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