He loved too much to lie

We live in a time where relationships are fragile and truth is negotiable. Say something that cuts too close to the bone, and folks will act like you’ve committed an unforgivable sin, not against God, but against the sacred cow of “relational harmony.” The modern mantra goes like this: “Would you rather be right, or be in relationship?” As if truth and love are sitting on opposite ends of the teeter-totter, and you’ve got to pick your weight.

But that’s nonsense. Truth and love aren’t enemies. They’re kin. Real love doesn’t smother truth; it carries it. If your relationships can’t bear the weight of truth, they’re already cracking.

Paul says in Ephesians 4:15 that we’re to “speak the truth in love.” Notice the order. He doesn’t say “lovingly hint around the truth” or “be so loving that you never need to say hard things.” He says truth first. Then love. That’s the shape of biblical courage. It’s a scalpel in the hands of a skilled surgeon, not a bat in the hands of a brute, but still sharp, still cutting.

And sometimes the truth cuts deep.

It cuts in the home. A father tells his son, “No, you’re not a victim. You’re lazy.” A wife tells her husband, “You’re not leading. You’re hiding.” A brother in Christ pulls a man aside and says, “You’ve got sin on your hands, and you’re pretending it's wisdom.” That’s not cruelty. That’s clarity. And clarity is kindness.

Flannery O’Connor once said that the truth does not change according to our ability to stomach it. That applies to your dinner guests, your elder board, your teenager, and your best friend.

Jesus Himself didn’t flinch when the truth offended. He lost crowds. He started riots. He even lost Judas. But He didn’t soften the truth to preserve proximity. He loved too much to lie.

“Faithful are the wounds of a friend,” says Proverbs 27:6. If you won’t wound someone you love when they need it, then you don’t love them, you just want them to like you. That’s not friendship. That’s flattery with a mask on.

Truth over relationship doesn’t mean truth without love. But it does mean that love never demands silence when God demands speech.

So yes, be kind. Be gentle. Speak plainly. But never lie to keep the peace. That kind of peace is a shallow puddle covering a sinkhole. Eventually, the ground gives way.

And when it does, it’s the truth-tellers, those strange, steady souls who love God more than comfort, who end up being the real peacemakers.