The Telling of the Truth: Matters of the Heart
By Kateb Nuri-Alim Shunnar
Our culture values truth above all—a North Star that helps us navigate the thorny forest of existence. It’s what we hold onto as our guide when the seas of life carry us far adrift into uncertainty, anchoring us in place on an unstable foundation. But like a sword that can kill or carve, truth has two edges—its strength lies not only in the words but also in the intent behind them.
We believe truth to be the purest source of enlightenment, the power to expose and bring clarity into confusion. It connects us, allowing us to understand each other despite our differences. Truth cures, develops trust, and enlivens us on the highest level of our being. But imagine truth as a blinding spotlight, switched on not to gently guide you in the right direction, but more like an interrogation light bulb with one intent—to expose, first and foremost, for the sake of shame and pain. What was once enlightening becomes glaring; what was supposed to be a torch leading you through your spiritual dark night of the soul is now nothing more than a weapon, and worse yet, it cuts deep.
However, truth has gravity; there is an onus that comes with knowing it and sharing it. Words, once spoken, can never be taken back, and truth, once said, will cling. Truth shared with compassion soothes like a healing balm; it mellows the hurt and stitches up loose ends. Yet truth wielded to hurt is a lie, a weapon that cuts down the fruit of another’s labor.
Now think of the heart as a container that holds our intentions. When truth is spoken with kindness and care, it flows like water from a well, refreshing the thirsty. But when truth is delivered with malice, it scorches like acid, burning all living things it touches. The heart, that vessel of our void, spills into the world through our words.
Once upon a time, I remember when the same thing was said to me. The words they spoke were not lies, but a truth colder than winter itself. The truth was not told to help me be better or understand—it was delivered like a tear, and tears dulled the wound. It took a certain level of reflection and self-awareness to see clearly through the pain that the truth was not in itself causing harm, but rather, it was more about the intent behind those messages. It also shaped my belief that truth, when wielded as a weapon of deception, is far more harmful than any lie ever could be because it provides no shelter from its scorching burn.
Truth is like fire. When held by someone with good intent, it warms and comforts, giving hope. But in the wrong hands, it singes and burns, leaving scars that may never fade. Our words are true mirrors of our inner landscape. Truth, when used to harm, only reveals the darkness inside one’s soul, casting a shadow on the light truth was ever meant to bring.
Visualize truth as an ax or a scalpel that cuts through the dross and deceits to lay bare the heart of things. When used well, it can build understanding and create deeper connections. But it is a blade that, if ill-intended or misused, can cut deeply enough to destroy the fabric of trust and forever break connections between people—much like the irreparable damage wrought by war. We must treat truth with the reverence and respect such a delicate thing deserves.
Using one of the most powerful tools given to us for harm by speaking truth is to take something innocent and make it venomous—to change what should be a savior into suffering. The Creator, in all His infinite wisdom, has bestowed upon us the gift of discernment and the ability to speak truth. But such a gift comes with the need to be careful—how and when we open our mouths so that our words may be turned to good instead of evil.
God, in His infinite love and mercy, does not reveal the truth to us to wound or hurt, but to guide us back to His ways. This new awareness, this discovery, is designed to bring us closer to the divine and push us towards our highest good. The Creator does not speak in words of violence and unkindness, but rather with gentleness and patience for our good. His truth is always imbued with grace, designed to be painful in a healing sort of way.
Outlined here is the model by which we are to walk out our own truth. When we share truth, let us do so with the love and compassion with which God loves us. May our words be like rain that waters, enriching life and growth for those who hear them. May we not use truth as a sword, for we are called to be ambassadors of peace, not cruelty.
Let us move gently with our own truths, treating them like gems. Let us examine our motivations and ensure that we are doing everything with love and empathy to heal others. Those words, after all, are not just sounds that disappear into thin air—they are forces that shape the destinies of their hearers and can win or lose.
Truth, when administered in love, can be a bridge that unites hearts and a light guiding each one of us closer to the divine. Yet wielded as a weapon, it becomes an abyss that separates rather than unites—a darkness blocking the road to tomorrow. Allow the balm of your truth, not its blade, to speak with healing intent rather than causing pain.
We must also remember that only the Creator is truly just, and in Him alone do justice and mercy meet—truth and compassion. He does not expose our blemishes to shame us but rather as a restorative process designed for intimacy with Him. Likewise, may our truth be spoken with the heart of uplifting and encouraging light in one another.
Therefore, remember that when you speak, let your words be seasoned with the love and wisdom of the Creator. May they offer comfort and direction, not pain or division. Ensure that the way you speak your truth is with humility, not self-justification; grace has already been given, so nothing more is needed.
In the heart’s silence,
Soft grace whispers your truth,
Let it heal, not harm.
Comentarios