The Great Lie
M Adam Roberts

I want to write an article about the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, but I can't.

I wish I could write a book, for all the world to read, that would reveal, and explain, every detail of my life, from its beginning to it's end.

I wish I were able to talk, openly, about the times that I've been weak, and the times that I've been strong, about the times that I've been right, and the times that I've been wrong.

I hate wearing a mask, pretending to be someone greater than I am. It is constricting my ability to breath! I want to take it off, and just be real. But I can't

I want to be able to share what I'm really feeling inside. I want to be able to say the things I believe needs to be said. But I must remain silent. I don't want to disturb the peace.

I want to be free! I know I never will be as long as I'm not willing to be completely truthful with myself, and with the world around me. I'm more than willing to do this, but the system doesn't want me to. It would upset the whole balance of things. Everyone is wearing a mask, pretending to be someone greater or better. It's a secret society and we all belong. It's against the rules to unmask. Such action would make all the others in the club appear liars.

I have found that even if I willing to face my own truth, others around me are not. They don't want to hear it. They don't want to know about it.

Once I was looking to rent an apartment, and as I walking around the apartment complex with the leasing manager, I was volunteering all kinds of information about myself that she did not want to hear. She wanted to rent me an apartment, and she was afraid that I was about to disqualify myself by telling her, unnecessary, information.

Suddenly, she interrupted me, from saying anything further, and said, "Mr. Roberts, you're telling me more than I need to know. As things stand, you are qualified to rent an apartment here."

In other words, she was telling me, "Shut up!, before you disqualify yourself and cost me a commission!"

The truth is, my truth effects other people; how they live and not always in a positive way. At least, that is, not on the surface. Most people don't want to hear it. It causes them all kinds of problems.

Suppose everyone told the truth. That is, the whole truth and nothing but the truth? It would be a world of chaos, would it not? How could we possibly deal with all of that?

Here comes the part where I feel I must explain myself, to keep others from wondering, and worrying. I'm starting to make people nervous by the things I'm saying. They're probably thinking, "What truth is he talking about? What is it that he's done now? What's making him feel so guilty that he feels he must relieve himself of it? It must be something awful! There he goes again, disturbing the peace. Why can't he just let things alone? What's he about to say now?"

I find myself laughing at these statements, because I know that's how others think. I know my truth, my life, effects others, and they want me to just be quiet! They don't want me to disqualify myself from being in their lives.

Relax, everyone my sins are no greater than your own. I only realize that I have them, and I'm tired of acting as if I don't. I'd rather just be honest about them, so that someone else might be able to gain strength from my weakness. In trying to appear perfect, I only prove that I am not, and no one benefits from my mistakes. By being honest about them, someone might.

I once met a man who invited me to his house, for dinner, with he, and his family. I had just met this man, and I knew nothing of his past. At first appearance, he seemed to be a very upright, and honorable person. His family seemed perfect. A feeling of love permeated the dining room. I felt honored to be their guest.

Once they served the meal and the prayer was said, the man began telling me of shameful things that he had done in his past. He spoke of things he had done that most others would never want anyone else to know about. As he shared his truth, tears of repentance streamed from his eyes. He told me of how he had shamed his family, and hurt his wife. Although these events had happened many years before, he was still sorry for them, although he had long forgiven himself.

I remember thinking, as the man was revealing these shameful truths about himself, "Why is he telling me these things? Does he not understand such information could be very incriminating to ones future? Secrets such as these need to be kept in the family. Even the man's own mother told him, as she bailed him out of a foreign prison, "No one ever needs to know anything about this. It would disgrace the whole family if this ever got out."

So, why was he so willingly sharing these family secrets with me? I didn't understand.

Somewhere along the way, my friend had been shown the truth concerning the great lie. The great lie that would have us believe that there is shame, weakness, and detriment, in telling the truth. The great lie that makes us afraid to speak of things as they really are, afraid we will be condemned to death, by others.

As I sat at this man's table, and watched the hearts of his family soften like melted butter towards him, I witnessed the power in his words of truth. They shattered all resistance towards him, and opened up an arena of love. His repentant heart instantly generated respect and forgiveness from all of us around him. The father's oldest daughter got up from her chair and walked over to him. She placed her arms around him, and kissed his tear stained cheek. "Daddy." she said, "We're so glad you're not like that anymore."

The great lie doesn't want us to tell the truth. It knows the power in it. The great lie knows that the truth will set us free, and the father of lies does not want us to be free.

I can write an article about the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth! I can start speaking it myself, and begin reaping its benefits. Someone does want to hear it. Someone needs to hear it. Someone needs to be set free