Speaking the Truth

There are many ways that title can be interpreted, depending upon who you are talking with. Esp. in "Christian" circles there are too many people who believe in "speaking the truth" as an excuse for gossip or cutting someone down.

In my own life, ever since getting married I have been working on recognizing truth and lies when they are spoken to me, or when I find myself saying them to myself. Earlier I shared one example, about how a few years back, I had been listening to my MIL tell me, in so many words, what a terrible person I was (I am fallen and far from perfect, but not as bad as you would think listening to her at that time), and was starting to believe it--lie. But then God showed me some truth to counter it: that my MIL was speaking from a position of hurt and insecurity, and her words said more about her than they did me.

The Truth really does set you free.

I feel at times like there is a Deceiver whispering in my ear, telling me lies, tempting me to serve myself at the expense of others, inciting me to heart rebellion against those I love. The only counter for lies is Truth, so I have tried to train myself to hear the untruth spoken aloud or in my head, and immediately counter it with truth.

And I counter it with truth spoken aloud--there is something powerful in the spoken word, so even if I am just whispering it to myself, I make the truth audible, tangible. Here is an example: for many, many years my relationship with MIL was so poisonous, and we saw DH's parents so frequently, that I lived with negative words in my head. Specifically whenever I cleaned I would find myself imagining what my MIL would be saying at that moment about how I was cleaning, or the general state of my house, etc. And for some reason dish-washing was the worst. For YEARS--seriously--every time I washed dishes (so at least twice a day) I would find myself having these imaginary conversations in my head, with the imaginary MIL saying critical things about my house, my kids, my kitchen, my cleaning skills, etc. and I would be mentally formulating snappy responses back. Sad. Even when I realized what a hold all that negativity had on me, and chose not to engage the mental dialogues anymore, I would still find my mind wandering in that direction every time I did the dishes.

So one day I decided to start speaking truth. Whenever I would get a lie in my head, like "My house is filthy and I am a terrible housekeeper," (which has a lot of truth to it, by the way!) I would say aloud some truth, something like, "I am a mother of four small children, who do not yet help much in taking care of this home, and certainly not without my effort. It is against the laws of mathmatics to expect that one person can herself completely restore what six people spend all day undoing. I used to have a clean house, and I will have a clean house again. This is just a season of life. I will not obsess about the dirty house and will try to enjoy this season for what it is. When my children are all grown and gone, I am sure I will have a clean house, and I am also sure I will miss them being home." Loads of truth in there, that immediately helps me shift my thinking to something more positive, and healthier.

It is a little bit like purposefully "looking on the bright side"--it is a conscious choice to change the way I see the world and people around me, refusing to let go of what I know is real and right no matter what is happening around me.

I have recently begun applying this idea to my parenting as well. My dear Sunny is a delightful girl--bright, exuberant, self-motivated, a ray of sunshine--but I sometimes call her "Mini-Me" because her faults are mine too, mainly being selfish, and not self-controlled, and talking too much. (Sigh! Oh, my Sunny girl, I am so sorry I seem to have given you all the worst parts of me--May the Creator who made you just the way he wants you help me delight in you as He delights in you. May He grow your heart to be as bold and beautiful as the rest of you, and give you compassion to temper your strong sense of justice, and help you learn to use your words as powerful tools for His good purposes. And may you always radiate Love through that gorgeous smile.)* In particular, Sunny is struggling with self-control, and seems to be constantly using her mouth in negative ways: tattling, complaining, fussing, bossing her siblings, talking back to her parents. But Merry had a long, dark spell of the same behaviour earlier this Spring, and Happy will surely have her moments too, as she gets older. So I decided to use the Speaking Truth with all girls too, as a tool to help them get their hearts right when they are struggling.

So this means that, for example, if one of the girls is mad about a consequence she has just received and starts mouthing off untruth--like "You're a mean mommy!"--I stop her and say, "Wait a minute, is that really true? If it is, I'd like to talk about it." And when she grumbles, "No," I'll say "Then now say something true." And she will grudgingly change her words to something like, "Ok, you're not a mean mommy, but I am angry and don't like what you are telling me right now!" Which has the benefit of being closer to what is really going on inside her, and which then helps me respond in a caring way: "I hear that you are angry" and maybe even, "You know that we don't do ____ in our home, and so there is going to be a consequence for that choice. Why should I not give you the consequence?" or something like that, and it can actually lead us to dialogue about choices, etc. and end on a positive note.

I am not saying this is a great example of parenting--you may read the above and pick out all kinds of wrong things I am doing in it. ; ) But it feels like it is a good thing, and it seems to be working. Certainly it at least helps keep me sane when the kids are mouthing off.

Anyway, I had been thinking about sharing this idea with you all for a while, and knew it was time when I read this post yesterday. Please take a moment to go read it--it is short and sweet. : )


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I wrote the first part of this post yesterday afternoon during quiet time, when Smiley was napping and the girls were playing outside. In the mini-van, actually. The sun had come out, it was a nice afternoon, and they were voluntarily cooped up in the car (keep in mind it was a chilly, foggy day and our driveway is in shade--they were in no danger of baking in the heat. Ironically, I think they wanted to play in the car because after driving around town a bit the car was warmer than our house). But they were happy, I got lots of quiet, so even if I thought they should be running around in the yard, I decided to let things be.

But when I finally called the girls to come in and start getting ready for dinner, the day took an unexpected turn that seemed to make what I had been writing real, and tangible and important.
Because Sunny chose to rebel. She had been having fun and did not see why she had to stop and come in, and even interrupted me when I tried to give good reason. This kind of thing has been happening a lot the past few days (probably rebound behaviour from being with the grandparents for an extended visit), and I have started to tell her to take the yuckiness outside and not come back in until her heart is right. Fresh air and running around in nature always help one's spirit, and in our tiny house with no interior doors, it is just not possible to cordon off a child acting ugly and keep it from negatively affecting everyone else too. And I am a firm believer in giving angry people the chance to be alone, to work through feelings and vent to the heavens if needed, something else that is not possible in our house. So I banished Sunny outside--but when she mouthed off even as leaving the house, I lost my cool and stormed out after her and took her by the shoulders and said right to her face, forcefully, something to the effect of, "It is NOT okay for you to vomit your ugliness out into the house. You do NOT have to respect me, but you DO have to talk to me respectfully. You are NOT welcome in our house until you have that mouth under control!"

Yes, she is nine and a half. Yes, I was coming off a little strong. It had been building for days, and I was letting it out. But I did not shake her (which I admit I wanted to do) and I did not yell. So, actually, restraint-wise, this was one of my finer parenting moments. (And no, physically lashing out at children in anger is NOT ok. I am just talking about momentary, sinful, angry heart urges--not our normal discipline choices!) But I stalked back into the house and left her out there to feel sorry for herself for half and hour, which is what she normally does in such situations.

I started preparing the kitchen for cooking dinner, and as I stood at the sink doing dishes and grumbling in my head at my daughter, I caught myself thinking that I did not like her very much. And then thinking, of course that's not true, it is her mouthiness and bad attitude you don't like. And then thinking about how much recently I have not liked her behavior, and thinking about how it feels like recently I am always down on her for said mouthiness and bad attitude. And realizing that from her perspective, I might truly be acting as if I don't like her. And wondering when was the last time that I let her know I not only love her, but like her?

And at that moment, in the middle of my frustration, I suddenly cared immensely about my daughter not feeling like her mother does not like her, thinking that my love for her is somehow contingent upon her behaviour, that because she is experiencing a consequence for bad behaviour that she is somehow not deserving of my love. I rushed outside and called for her--and when she came walking around the corner of the house, I was amazed to see her smiling. I was expecting her to still be pouty, maybe crying in that manipulative, pity-party way that I can't stand and that makes it hard for me to offer her sympathy; instead, with almost beatific gentleness and peace in her face, she came to me and smiled up at me, and I took her face in my hands and I don't remember at all what I said, but it was essentially, Let's make up--I love you too much to be mad. Let's start afresh.

And she said back, in that strangely peaceful and unselfconscious way, "Actually, I was just listening to some Truth."

And I said, "Me too."

She knew nothing of what I had been thinking or writing--her words, our sudden heart changes were a clear, amazing manifestation of the Holy Spirit.

And we hugged and bonded in a way I have never felt before. It was a true spirit bond, of person to person more than mother to daughter, and yet it was sweetly that too. She asked then what she could do to help me, and I said I was making dinner. So she asked if she could help, and without hestitation I said "Yes, that would be great." And so we went in and made dinner together, which is new for us. And the peace lasted the rest of the night, and into today so far. . . .

And looking back, I am just so, so thankful that I was standing there at the sink focusing on truth, so that when God whispered in my heart, I heard and acted without hesitation. What if I had been standing there mired in self-pity for how yucky parenting is some days, wallowing in the negative--could I have heard Him then? Or what if I had chosen to stay mad and ignored the prompting? What it I had left her outside for the usual length of time and missed that precious, God-breathed moment?

I am awed and full of thanks.



*Writing this just now, I wondered when was the last time I prayed such words with each of my children, giving them a specific picture of the people they can choose to be? I need to ponder on this some more today. . .