Good week to you, friend! This post continues my series entitled “Jesus, the Relational Genius.” The previous two posts in this series, on Jesus’s boundaries and his enjoyment of people, can be read in advance if you wish. I’ve really enjoyed exploring how Jesus related to people, and I’ve received a lot of feedback from readers that it’s also been helpful to them. As I write, I offer a prayer to God on your behalf. The grace and mercy of Christ is with you. Go in peace. And know that God is with you wherever you find yourself this week. You find yourself nowhere where He is not.
Every other spring, I teach a course at the university entitled “Engaging with Skeptics.” Over the sixteen weeks, my students are invited to learn the ancient and often complex art of living as Christians in a world that feels to be hostile to their way of life. It’s our university’s evangelism class—started a number of years ago by two professors who identified the growing need for our students to learn how to be missional agents in our world. Today, the course is mine. In the introductory weeks, we begin with a crash course in epistemology, the study of the nature and practice of human belief and knowledge.
A key part of the semester’s curriculum is designed to challenge our students to recognize the intellectual contributions of the worldview known as ‘postmodernism.’ As well as its blatantly two-sided disregard for truth. The postmodern (or, as it’s more often called, ‘late-modern’) project has sought to undermine the notion that there is objective, detached truth independent of our upbringing, feelings, or lived experience. Truth is no longer “out there,” as the übermodern television show The X-Files once began with in its trailer. Instead, truth is “in here”; it is whatever we feel it to be. This kind of outlook, postmodern philosopher Richard Rorty said, should lead to a society where “truth is what your colleagues will let you get away with.” Or, as Lily Tomlin put it, truth becomes nothing more than a “collective hunch.”1 The postmodern self has become its own test of orthodoxy.
The emerging result, as we banter about in class, has been a societal confusion and existential loneliness unprecedented in human history—to say nothing of its permissive stance that grants everyone the freedom to betray truth. It is deeply hypocritical, dissolving as impossible any kind of religious knowledge, moral value, or universal conviction, all the while seeking to fight for the inalienable rights of marginalized peoples, the dignity of minorities, and a call to fight for the natural world (each of which, Christians should care deeply about). Postmodernism does not deny the truth; it simply denies that there’s any way to it through the realm of faith, spirituality, or piety, all the while holding its own up as inerrant and ineffable.
Denying truth is a convenient way to dissolve one’s responsibility. And it leads to a society that enables one to, in the words of Paul, “continue to do these [evil] things” while “approving of those” who do the same things.2 Denying the truth is one of the crafty ways humans use to violate it. Just as abusers rarely see their victims as actual human beings—for if they did, they would have to confront the reality of their actions—they create a permission structure to continue their evil. This is why hostage negotiators focus on humanizing the hostages to the hostage-takers; if the perpetrators recognize the humanity of their captives, they may be compelled to cease their wrongdoing.
Without truth, true, real, and flourishing relationships are simply impossible. “What is truth?” Pilate asks Jesus in John’s account of their exchange before Christ is handed over to be crucified (Jn. 18:28-40). As an experiment, I invite my students to read the entire passage and imagine Pilate not as a Roman governor, but as a tight-jeaned graduate student at a major research university. When they do, the dialogue fits seamlessly into what a conversation between Jesus and the postmodern spirit might look like.
What a simple read of the gospels up until the account with Pilate shows is that Jesus repeatedly confronted people—everyone, really—with his announcement of truth. A quick look at some of the occasions of truth-telling confrontation reveal interesting practical insights. For example, I’ve found that:
Jesus used wisdom to share truth with people who were ready for it. He did not vocalize the truth to everyone at all times. He was intentional about who he revealed his full message to. For instance, in nearly all the parables, he withheld the deeper meaning from the crowds but revealed it to his closest disciples. In his exchange with Pilate, rather than offering direct answers, Jesus often responded with questions of his own.
Jesus confronted people with the truth—and with his help. Unlike the experts in the law, who “burdened” people with legal demands yet were unwilling to “lift a finger to help them” (Mt. 23:4; Lk. 11:46), Jesus not only spoke the truth but also demonstrated how to live it. His life is perhaps best captured in the words of George Herbert: “Speak not of my debts unless you intend to help me pay them.”
Jesus did not share the truth with those unable to steward it. This principle is reflected in his command: “Do not throw your pearls before pigs” (Mt. 7:6). At times, Jesus instructed his followers to withhold the truth when the moment or the audience was not right.
Jesus spoke the truth even to his closest allies, friends, and family members. This reveals that he was not interested in forming an exclusive group where insiders were always right and outsiders were wrong. Instead, he held those closest to him accountable to the truth just as much as anyone else.
That last point is the hardest for most of us, especially in relationship. Because we can tend to be so enmeshed in our relationships, we don’t speak truthfully to the people closest to us. Why? Because it is often easier to just be connected by mutual admiration and shared affection rather than being united by a shared commitment to what is true. This is why the Proverbs are quick to remind us that the sign of a good friend is one that can often hurt us: “wounds from a friend can be trusted.” (Prov. 27:6) Be wary of the person who has never hurt your feelings or is never willing to.
Part of what would have made Jesus such a compelling friend was that he would have eternally loved you and at the same time refused to allow that unending love to detract from the need to speak truthfully. That is a hard model to follow, for sure. But I fear that when we only pick one side of this equation, we end up affirming each other to death or critiquing each other into oblivion.
A true and good relationship is one in which the truth is welcomed, not dismissed. We get so used to having to hide truth in order to be in right relationship. But Jesus would have none of that. A relationship worth having is a relationship in which truth is given full room and board.
Quoted in Dallas Willard’s commencement speech at Azusa Pacific University in 1994. Found many places online, entitled, “Being Valiant for Truth Today.”
Rom. 1:32. I slightly edited Paul’s text for clarity sake keeping the intent and heart as is.
Idea (if you have time and feel a call to do so) - write this in a book. It's much bigger than a university class, as you know.
“ I fear that when we only pick one side of this equation, we end up affirming each other to death or critiquing each other into oblivion.
A true and good relationship is one in which the truth is welcomed, not dismissed. We get so used to having to hide truth in order to be in right relationship. But Jesus would have none of that. A relationship worth having is a relationship in which truth is given full room and board.”
Great post! I’ll be saving and sharing this one. Thanks for your writing-it is so readable and thought-provoking.