Beauty in Truthfulness, However Ugly the Truth
By S. Joshua Swamidass
Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things. --- Philippians 4:8
This verse embeds a paradox. Its advice would be easy to follow in a perfect world. But we live in a fallen world. So much of what we see around us is not noble, pure, lovely, admirable, excellent, or praiseworthy.
Certainly, there are also good things, too. But how can we think truthfully about a broken world without engaging ugly truths and difficult realities? That is the challenge.
Truthfulness about the ugliness of the world is important. We have to see, understand, and talk about what is not lovely, not pure, not just, and not admirable. Our silence about sin and corruption allows it to spread. Yet it is precisely this silence that we often prefer--and that we might even support with a verse like Philippians 4:8, where someone might think Paul is advising us to ignore ugliness altogether. We know all too well, however, what happens when we look away.
Last month, we learned that a well-known Christian leader had engaged in evil and abuse for decades. He abused women and misused funds. By believing only the best about him, his ministry protected the leader instead of protecting the victims.
How did this happen? How did this go on for so long? We should not be surprised at what this report revealed; enough evidence was out in the public for years. Yet, many were caught off guard. Why?
Reading over comments from leaders within the organization is instructive. When complaints were made, they were not taken seriously. Instead, so many wanted to focus on what was noble, right, pure, lovely, admirable, excellent, and praiseworthy in the leader. Ignoring and disputing the complaints seemed to be almost exactly as Paul advises, or so it would seem.
In the process the leaders of this ministry lost sight of what was true. Instead of defending the abused women, most defended the leader, ignoring, insulting, and attacking those on the side of truth.
Truth is not always lovely, not always pure, not always beautiful. Truth can be ugly and hard. But “true” is the first word in Paul’s list. One way to understand his call in Philippians 4:8, then, is to consider how all these words must work together. We cannot keep our minds on whatever is lovely or admirable if it comes at the expense of what is true. It has happened too many times in the history of the Church (Protestant and Catholic, in the present and in the past) that instead of listening to the ugly truths of whistleblowers, leaders have tried to think about something else, and multiplied the suffering of victims.
The ugly truths are not just in our churches, though. They are all around us. Our city of St. Louis is no stranger to hurts and wrongs and injustice. If we are only to focus on the pure, the lovely, and the admirable--whatever is excellent or praiseworthy--how do we think rightly about our city?
Yes, like the Church, there are many beautiful things to love about St. Louis. But the past and present truths are often ugly. Our city is still deeply segregated, owing to longstanding racially-motivated housing restrictions. The racism has run deep in our city, as Walter Johnson talks about in The Broken Heart of America. This reality is not “lovely” or “admirable,” but it is true.
Racial injustice is difficult to talk about, but truth is a precondition for reconciliation. So how do we think truthfully about a broken, fallen world and keep our minds on what is lovely and admirable?
Perhaps we need to understand truthfulness differently.
What if truthfulness about the difficult realities of the world is, in fact, intrinsically good and beautiful? In a fallen world, what if thinking about ugly truths is our path to the good? If that is true, paradoxically, thinking truthfully about this ugliness can be a lovely and admirable end in itself, an end that brings about greater goods.
If so, then perhaps thinking truthfully about the difficult reality of the world is inherently noble. Truthfulness about ugliness requires courage, and that courage can be admirable and praiseworthy as well. Truthfulness, at times, might be how God redeems some of the brokenness of a fallen world.
I am thinking again about the leader who abused women from his position in power. Alongside the victims that came forward, those few that were willing to think about difficult truths, including an atheist and a Christian journalist, did something noble. Though they were reviled by most, they were privileged to walk with victims, to grieve with and comfort them. They helped ensure the truth would eventually come to light.
Their example of truthfulness about ugliness is worthy of emulation. This sort of truthfulness in a fallen world is, indeed, praiseworthy.
Instead of calling us to set any thought of sin aside, Paul’s list might instead be asking us to be truthful about deep-seated sin. Truthfulness about ugliness is beautiful in a broken world.
How do we find courage to think about difficult truths? It seems a robust theology of the Kingdom of God is important. With it comes hope that a better way is possible and achievable. This longing hope is another good thing brought to the surface by truthfulness.
By ignoring the ugliness of the fallen world, we accept it as or own, leaving it unchanged. But if we are caught up in a stubborn hope for something better, if we long for the Kingdom of God, then we will be too dissatisfied by the ugliness to ignore it. This dissatisfaction is beautiful, a prayer for God’s will to be done on earth as it is done in heaven.
So, let us think truthfully about the world. In doing so, let us long for the Kingdom of God. Let us long for it, beg for it, cry for it, mourn for it, fighting for that better way.
Let us find beauty in truthfulness, with certainty that truth about ugliness is lovely indeed.
S. Joshua Swamidass is Associate Professor in Pathology & Immunology, Associate Professor in Biomedical Engineering, and a Carver Faculty Fellow.