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Thursday, April 28, 2016

Is It Ever Right to Lie?

      This is a difficult question. Conducting my own research, I found that even pastors don’t find it easy to address it in its entirety. There are many variables to consider that the Bible doesn’t say anything about. Since it would take too long to include every detail and circumstance in this post, I plan to address just some of the more important aspects of the question. Please understand, also, that I am in no way an expert in this area, and that I’m bound to making mistakes as well. From what I concluded from my search, though, I hold to my belief that lying is not the best way to face any situation.

      Firstly, I would like to establish the definition of a lie: A lie is a false statement told with the intention to deceive. We also understand that the Bible explicitly commands us not to lie.

      Here comes the difficult part. Many would argue that there are times when lying is acceptable, or even permitted. One such case would be when you have to protect someone. Two of the most famous Bible scenarios that are often brought up are found in the book of Joshua, when Rahab the harlot lied to protect the Israelite spies, and in the book of Exodus, when the Israelite midwives lied to Pharaoh to save the male babies. The supporters for conditional lying, or lying when “necessary,” would go on to say that these people were blessed for what they did.

      However, nowhere in the Scriptures do we find God’s commending their act of lying, no matter how good their intentions may had been. The Bible never approves of it, but it didn’t condemn these particular persons for it either. Rahab was blessed. She was even mentioned in the “faith chapter” of Hebrews 11. A plain study of what Scripture says, however, would tell us that Rahab was commended and blessed for her heart of faith. Her lie was not mentioned. Scripture also says that the midwives in Egypt were blessed “because [they] feared God.” Again, their lie was neither commended nor condemned. From here, we cannot say that lying was permitted or condoned.

      Another famous example of lying to protect someone is the story of Corrie Ten Boom. Corrie lived in the Netherlands during the Nazi takeover of the country, and she is known for rescuing and hiding Jews from the Germans. Nazi soldiers repeatedly came to her house and asked if she were hiding Jews, and she always denied it. Ironically, it was Corrie’s own sister, Nollie, who believed in being truthful at all times. One day, when the Nazis once again came to inquire about any Jews they might be harbouring, they had hidden the Jews in an underground cellar, the door of which was under a table. When Nollie was asked the question point-blank, she said yes. When asked where, she said, “Under the table.” The soldiers looked, saw nothing there, and thought that Nollie was playing a joke on them. They left without spotting the cellar door, and Nollie was faithful to her conviction of truthfulness.

      Previously we talked about lying to protect others. What about lying to protect ourselves? My answer to that is quite simple. If we did something wrong, we know we shouldn’t cover it up with a lie. A sin leads to another sin. If we did something right, why would we need to lie? We should rejoice in persecutions!

      Finally, I would like to leave you with a thought. Is it possible that lying, whether to protect ourselves or others, reflects a lack of faith in God? In His will? In His power? If the Lord rescues us physically, like He did for Nollie, praise be to Him! If He doesn’t, is that reason enough to take the situation into our own hands by means of falsehood?

      These are just the main aspects of the question that are commonly raised. As I said, there are other scenarios. Nevertheless, this is a matter that lies (pun not intended) between you and God. Search Him and His Word, and I pray that He will lead you in all righteousness and wisdom.


Blessings,

Nathanael Chong

Tuesday, April 5, 2016

"Walk This Way, Trust Me"

      Just recently, I was watching a Chinese talent show with my family, and one particular act caught our attention. It was an apprehensive act in which a little girl of five years climbed a wall, using darts that her father threw into it as leverage. The following video from the show recounts the event.




      As you could see, the father gave all he had. He knew what was at stake. His daughter’s success was dependent on how well and how strongly he paved the way for her climb. Everyone in the audience was worried. It is not shown in the shortened video above, but one of the judges wanted to inspect the darts himself. Everything in the show was spoken in the Chinese language, so my aunt translated for me, and I learned that the darts were buried into the wall at an average of half an inch. The little girl weighed 30 kilograms, and, ideally, the darts had to be able to bear a weight of about 40 kilograms. The father’s job was done. Now the rest fell upon the shoulders of his daughter, and she succeeded.

      My aunt said that there was a meaning behind this act. The father paved the way for his daughter, but the girl had to independently climb the wall herself. She went on to say that this is like how our parents do what they can to guide us and teach us, but, in the end, the responsibility ultimately falls on us.

      Pondering on this, I took the observation further. This little girl of five years placed in her father a trust that we older folks struggle to have. Her father set up her steps and anchor points, and said, in effect, “Climb this wall. Trust me.” It was then her decision to do her part, and she did.

      Doesn’t this also reflect our relationship with our Heavenly Father in some way? He gave us instruction through His Word, and gave us wisdom and strength through the Holy Spirit. He paved our way, both to salvation and to the life He wants us to live. He gave all He had—His life—and now He calls to us, “Walk this way. Trust me.” And everything in our lives waits with bated breaths for our answer to the question: “Will we?”

      Is it possible that the trust portrayed by the child reflects what is meant by “childlike faith”? As we grow older, we start thinking for ourselves and learning about reality. And as a result, we tend to think that we know everything, and that our judgements and decisions are the best. Now, understand that I’m not saying we should be simpleminded or gullible. In fact, quite the contrary. The Bible warns against simplemindedness, and instructs us to live wisely, discreetly, and prudently. However, childlike faith is an appropriate state of the heart when it concerns our walk with the Lord. This will be explained in the next point.

      There is a difference between the talent act described above and our walk with God. The darts thrown by the father is fallible. There are chances that some of the darts are weakly embedded, and thus risk the girl’s safety and success. Not so with God. The stepping stones He lays before us are firm and true. Because God knows what is truly best and He loves us enough to give us that best, we can confidently believe that His ways are infallible. This is why we can, and should, have childlike faith in Him—because He never fails us when He does His part. The blame, then, for any failure is ours (Real failure; not what seems like failure. There are things that appear to be failures but are actually victories in God’s plan). The path is sure; it is our choice whether to walk on it or not. We will reap the rewards if we do, and the consequences if we don’t.

      Finally, as we think of how the Heavenly Father gave all He had to provide us a path to salvation, we should never forget how He set His Son’s path to Calvary. The time was right, the world was ready, and the stage was set. The Father paved the way, but Christ had to bear the weight by Himself, just as the little girl had to climb the wall by herself.

      Will we have such faith? Will we let God set the path instead of insisting on doing it ourselves? Will we let God write our story? When God says, “Walk this way. Trust me,” will we do it?


Blessings,

Nathanael Chong