Can You Handle The Truth by ‘Brother Bill’
You can’t handle the truth Jack said to Tom Cruise and I had to ask can I really handle the truth? So, can I search for it wherever it leads me?
I took it upon myself one day to conduct a quiet investigation—no jury, no lawyer, just me and the stubborn truth. It was not a pleasant business. A man is apt to think himself decent company compared to others until he shuts the door, sits down with his conscience, and finds he has been entertaining a scoundrel all along.
My education in dishonesty came early and free of charge. My father, meaning well but, proceeding poorly, had a way of demanding the truth with such thunder and lightning that a small boy could only conclude the truth must be a dangerous creature indeed. I reasoned—quite logically for a frightened child—that if the asking of the truth produced such fury, the telling of it might bring about the end of the world. So, I learned to lie, not from wicked ambition, but from self-preservation.
Then there were the neighbor children, well-equipped with toys and treasures, while I stood empty-handed. A philosopher in short pants does not take long to discover his options: he may either create something from nothing or relieve another boy of his abundance. I proved myself versatile and practiced both trades.
For a time, I comforted myself with the notion that my crimes were of the smaller variety—nothing to trouble Heaven over much. But, then I came upon a certain sermon that ruined everything for me.
“You have heard that it was said to those of old, ‘You shall not murder, and whoever murders will be in danger of the judgment.’ But I say to you that whoever is angry with his brother without a cause shall be in danger of the judgment.” (Matthew 5:21–22, NKJV)
That was more than inconvenient, it was condemning.
“You have heard that it was said to those of old, ‘You shall not commit adultery.’ But I say to you that whoever looks at a woman to lust for her has already committed adultery with her in his heart.” (Matthew 5:27–28, NKJV)
Now that was worse.
With those two statements alone, my respectable little pile of “minor offenses” caught fire and burned to the ground. It turned out I was not a slightly flawed citizen—I was, by the higher reckoning, a full participant in the fallen human condition.
And as if that were not enough, another line came along and closed my last escape hatch:
“For whoever shall keep the whole law, and yet stumble in one point, he is guilty of all.” (James 2:10, NKJV)
That James, I never did like that condemning no wiggle room guy. He was always giving verses that didn’t leave a man much room for compromise.
I had supposed that being better would suffice—that a little polishing my rotten apple here and there might make me presentable. But the trouble with polishing is that it does nothing for rot.
Then came the final and most unsettling conclusion: it was not merely my actions that required adjustment—it was myself that required burial.
“I have been crucified with Christ; it is no longer I who live, but Christ lives in me…” (Galatians 2:20, NKJV)
That is a severe remedy, but an effective one.
For the record shows plainly:
“The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked; who can know it?” (Jeremiah 17:9, NKJV)
Finely a verse that got me, which explained my earlier findings rather nicely.
So I came to see that the project was not self-improvement, but self-surrender. Not a survival renovation, but a thriving replacement. A man may spend his life trying to behave better, yet carry within him the very engine of his ruin. The only lasting solution is a change of ownership.
“Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; old things have passed away; behold, all things have become new.” (2 Corinthians 5:17, NKJV)
And that, as it turns out, is the difference between decorating a prison cell and walking out the door.
I set out to improve myself and discovered I had to die instead. It was not the conclusion I expected—but it was the only one that made any sense.
For I found, much to my discomfort, that even when I had made up my mind to do right, something in me had already made other arrangements.
“Now if I do what I will not to do, it is no longer I who do it, but sin that dwells in me. I find then a law, that evil is present with me, the one who wills to do good. For I delight in the law of God according to the inward man. But I see another law in my members, warring against the law of my mind, and bringing me into captivity to the law of sin which is in my members. O wretched man that I am! Who will deliver me from this body of death? I thank God—through Jesus Christ our Lord! So then, with the mind I myself serve the law of God, but with the flesh the law of sin.” (Romans 7:20–25, NKJV)
Now there is an honest confession if ever one was written. A man reads that and either recognizes himself or proves he has not been paying attention.
And I confess, that passage took hold of me like a firm hand on the collar. For I had thought my problem was a matter of poor behavior, when in fact it was a matter of divided nature. I was, so to speak, a house at war with itself—one tenant desiring righteousness and the other sneaking in sin through the back door.
So when I heard it said, that God’s Word is no longer relevant, I could only conclude that such a speaker had never read it with any intention of being found out. For a man who reads it honestly will soon discover it has been reading him all along.
But, just when the case appeared closed and the verdict certain, I turned the page—and there I found not condemnation, but something altogether unexpected: relief.
“There is therefore now no condemnation to those who are in Christ Jesus, who do not walk according to the flesh, but according to the Spirit. For the law of the Spirit of life in Christ Jesus has made me free from the law of sin and death.” (Romans 8:1–2, NKJV)
Free, you see—not improved, not patched, not temporarily restrained—but freed.
“For what the law could not do in that it was weak through the flesh, God did by sending His own Son in the likeness of sinful flesh, on account of sin: He condemned sin in the flesh, that the righteous requirement of the law might be fulfilled in us who do not walk according to the flesh but according to the Spirit.” (Romans 8:3–4, NKJV)
That was the turning point. Not my effort, but His provision. Not my strength, but His Spirit.
“For those who live according to the flesh set their minds on the things of the flesh, but those who live according to the Spirit, the things of the Spirit. For to be carnally minded is death, but to be spiritually minded is life and peace.” (Romans 8:5–6, NKJV)
Now that is a choice a man can understand: death or life, noise of the world or peace of God.
“For if you live according to the flesh you will die; but if by the Spirit you put to death the deeds of the body, you will live.” (Romans 8:13, NKJV)
And so I learned a curious thing: the further I walked from my old sins, the less they seemed to pursue me. They behaved much like gravity—powerful when you stand still, but strangely diminished once you have taken flight.
Yet just when I began to fancy myself a success story, a new villain appeared on the scene—well-dressed and highly respectable. His name was Pride.
He congratulated me on my progress, encouraged me to look down on others, and suggested I had become something of an authority on righteousness. It was then I realized I had not slain my old nature so much as taught it better manners.
And then came another inconvenient reminder:
“Judge not, that you be not judged. For with what judgment you judge, you will be judged…” (Matthew 7:1–2, NKJV)
“And why do you look at the speck in your brother’s eye, but do not consider the plank in your own eye?” (Matthew 7:3, NKJV)
That settled the matter rather decisively. A man occupied with removing a log from his own eye has very little time left for inspecting the dust in another’s.
I came to see that the great battle was not out there in the wide and troublesome world, but in here—quiet, persistent, and very personal. As some have wisely said, the greatest conquest is not of nations but of oneself. And if I may borrow a sentiment well worth keeping: when asked what is wrong with the world, the honest answer is, “I am.”
So I have made a beginning—not a grand one, nor an impressive one, but an honest one. I have determined, as best I am able, to walk in truth without ornament or disguise, to rely not on my own unreliable virtue but on the steady assistance of God’s Spirit, and to spend less time condemning others and more time correcting myself.
And if this should prove to be an adventure—and I strongly suspect it will—then it is one worth inviting company for.
So here I stand at the start of it, with fewer illusions and more hope than I began with.
If you are inclined toward truth without varnish, and grace without pretense, you are welcome to join me.
About the Author
Mychal Massie
Mychal S. Massie is an ordained minister who spent 13 years in full-time Christian Ministry. Today he serves as founder and Chairman of the Racial Policy Center (RPC), a think tank he officially founded in September 2015. RPC advocates for a colorblind society. He was founder and president of the non-profit “In His Name Ministries.” He is the former National Chairman of a conservative Capitol Hill think tank; and a former member of the think tank National Center for Public Policy Research. Read entire bio here
