I was out running errands when I saw a sign on the side of the road reading, “No legacy is so rich as honesty.”
My dad left me that legacy. He was an honest man. He led the kind of life Paul suggested in 1 Timothy 2:2: “…lead a quiet and peaceable life in all godliness and honesty.”
It must have been a challenge for my father as I was growing up and he would see me choosing the ‘easier’ way by shading the truth, or hiding part of the truth when I could see that telling the whole truth was going to get me into trouble. I’m sure he sorrowed to see how it led to my own guilt, and shame, and difficulty. But no matter how much he taught me, I had to finally choose for myself to become a person of integrity. No one else could give that to me.
I’ve recently seen the painful damage that can occur in relationships when dishonesty creeps in. Trust disappears, rationalization becomes a way of life, and sorrow ensues.
Have you ever heard someone say something that just doesn’t feel quite right, and you feel like saying, “Honestly?”
I was recently reading Richard Paul Evans’ book The Four Doors, where he stated that everybody in life suffers, at some point in his or her life. And everybody has the choice of what to do with that suffering. People can choose to look at it honestly, and ask “What can I learn from this” and “What is my next step”…
…or they can tell themselves that this now has to define the rest of our lives.
That simply wouldn’t be honest.
Innumerable people have gone on after great tragedy and have grown, and learned, and served those around them – and found joy and fulfillment.
So whenever I find myself feeling sorry for myself, I try to catch it immediately and ask,
And when I do, I am a better person because of it.