What if we chose Honesty?

What if we chose honesty? 

Those are the kinds of thoughts you entertain after spending time in the Pauline epistles. But truly, let’s give the question some weight. 

What if we did?

Not the kind of honesty that wounds in the name of ‘truth’. But the kind that values relationships more than self.

The kind stripped of what the world had taught us about self-preservation. 

The kind that doesn’t keep people at a distance because of past hurt. 

The kind that doesn’t enter new situations with old wounds leading the way.

The kind that refuses to hide behind fear.

What would change?

How much simpler would it be to love one another truly? 

How many prolonged misunderstandings would dissolve?

How many harsh words, spoken from unprocessed pain, would never be said at all? 

At some point, I had to stop and ask myself: 

‘What does honesty actually sound like?’ 

The way we hide:

It doesn’t come naturally.

Our soul, instead, seeks to shield the heart, protect our peace, and keep chaos at a distance. 

And sometimes, that protection quietly becomes isolation.

It sounds like:

• A casual “I’m okay” when you are not.

• Comforting others and neglecting your own truth

• Silencing yourself to keep the room calm

As if the pain hurts less when it’s yours. 

What does honesty sound like?

Real honesty doesn’t suppress pain; it invites conversation. 

Not to prove a point, but as a product of love.

Sometimes, it’s simple: 

• I’m scared.

• I’m actually not ok.

• This situation is breaking me, little by little.

And sometimes, it goes deeper than we’re comfortable admitting:

• I don’t understand why God would allow this when I know He could have intervened.

• I laughed it off, but it hurts every time you bring it up.

• I don’t feel as close to you anymore, and I don’t think it bothers you.

• I don’t know if I’m capable of loving a partner the way I used to.

• I stay quiet because I don’t know how to say that I feel like I’ve failed.

• I forgave you, but I’m not yet over it

Those sentences, though rehearsed internally, are rarely released. 

Honesty in the Body

We’ve been taught to retreat.

To protect oneself.

To avoid discomfort at all costs.

But we are not called to isolation, but to togetherness. As early as the book of Genesis, the Lord saw that it was not ok for man to be alone. That same mindset is carried through the New Testament, and it reads in the book of Ephesians:

“Therefore, having put away falsehood, let each one of you speak the truth with his neighbor, for we are members one of another.”

-Ephesians 4:25

Honesty, in its right form, doesn’t weaken the body, but strengthens it, refusing to leave any crack for the enemy to enter.

It doesn’t sever wholeness in the Body.

It restores it.

It refuses to cut the bridge and instead chooses to build it stronger.

The Cost of Saying it out loud

I won’t pretend I’ve mastered this. 

But I can say this: 

I have never regretted choosing honesty in love.

Is it uncomfortable?

Absolutely. 

Does vulnerability make me want to crawl out of my skin?

Yes.

Do I sometimes ignore the quiet prompting of the Holy Spirit?

Also yes.

It doesn’t feel good.

But,

It’s not supposed to.

And worse, how you feel doesn’t change what needs to be done. 

The Shift

At some point, as you do it out of obedience, perspective shifts.

You realize how minute you are in proportion to the body as a whole.

And suddenly, silence feels different.

The idea that someone could remain stuck- misunderstood, distant, or hurting- all because of a few seconds of your discomfort…

It doesn’t feel like protection anymore.

It feels like selfishness.

I know it. 

And if you’re honest, 

You know it too.