Social action, Wellbeing

Cutting through the fog of untruth

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

On Monday night I spoke at the AGM of the brilliant Bristol homeless charity inHope which run a Hope into Action franchise in the city.  Later I had to get a train up to Nottingham and my journey included an hours’ wait at Birmingham New Street Station between 10pm and 11pm.

Large train stations are never short of a bit of drama, especially late at night. And as I was waiting, I was aware of some raised voices and agitation in the Pret-a-Manger café just behind me. I saw a man leaving the shop after clearly causing some issue to the staff.

I was standing quite nearby and the man immediately started talking to me.  He looked weary and resigned and clearly under the influence of alcohol. But he was coherent and he asked me if we could talk.  I said that I had plenty of time on my hands and was happy to. 

Spiral of regrets

We exchanged names and quite quickly he opened up about his life: the addictions he was caught in and his spiral of regrets, broken relationships, lost opportunities and bad decisions. He talked about the harsh upbringing he experienced but how he now had a young son who he hardly saw and how life was repeating itself.  It was the kind of story I have heard far too many times.

As he was speaking he opened his jacket, took a boxed Pret meal out, put it in his bag and zipped it up and we continued to talk.

It turned out he was originally from Streatham in south London and grew up on the same road I used to live on. We had loads to talk about and our conversation got pretty deep as he talked about wanting to change and how to get his life back on track.  He asked my advice about what he should do.

New starts

I said two main things.  Firstly, I told him about my work and why I believe in grace, forgiveness and new-starts. I emphasised how vitally important his life and decisions were, both for him and his family. 

Secondly, I said that if you are serious about wanting to change then you should take the meal you had just stolen out of your bag and hand it back to the staff in the Pret-a-Manger.

I wasn’t sure how much he took in about grace and new starts, but my suggestion to return the food certainly landed. He got very agitated, indignant and started shouting:

‘Nah, don’t make me do that…that’s too much bruv. You cannot make me do that.’

I said that I could not make him do anything.  I was simply saying what I thought would be best for him. If he was serious about changing, start now. 

Grappling

You could see him grappling with the challenge and he blurted out a series of self-justifications. He said he was skint, hungry and needed the meal – but I offered to buy him another meal if he did it. He said the meal would just be thrown away anyway so what was the point? 

I said the point was because truthfulness matters. If he wanted to change he had to start by being truthful and this was a good opportunity.  We spoke about how every recovery programme was built on truth and honesty: to overcome addictions you needed to turn away from the kind of bullshit, lying and cheating that addicts get stuck in.

Cut-through

He calmed down but decided against my suggestion to take the food back. We continued to speak for another half an hour or so about life, faith, football and what change involves. I prayed for him which he said he appreciated, we embraced and said goodbye. 

I don’t know how much he will recall of our conversation. But it was the challenge I gave him about the meal which was the most significant part of our chat. It was the only thing which really cut through the fog.

Truth to the powerless

Its popular to talk about ‘speaking truth to power’ these days. And often for very good reasons: the powerful need to hear truth about poverty and injustice.

But what is talked about far less is the importance of speaking truth to those without power. They need truth as well.  Not a truth which crushes, condemns or castigates, but a grace-filled, compassionate form of truth. A truth which refuses to collude with damaging behaviour and helps give them power to overcome their challenges.

The fog of untruth

As I see daily in my work and each week at our church drop-in The Vine, actually helping people with complex issues involves cutting through the fog of untruth.

I simply don’t think it is possible to really help anyone on the basis of untruth. This is the inescapable problem with begging: the scenarios presented as the premise for needing cash are almost never truthful. And if the truth sets people free, deceit keeps people imprisoned.

Authentic love – the kind that endures, changes people and means something – is never just about soft forms of acceptance, kindness and generosity.  Authentic love is always made up of grace and truth.


Hope into Action’s annual conference ‘Restorers of Hope’ is 12th March 2025. Early bird tickets are now available. Listen to the seminar that Izzy Harriss’ and I led at this year’s conference which relate to the themes of this blog: A massive dose of truth


Discover more from Grace + Truth

Subscribe to get the latest posts sent to your email.

10 thoughts on “Cutting through the fog of untruth”

  1. Beautiful, compassionate, wise and honest.

    I greatly value your insights, I haven’t come across anyone else who demonstrates the working out of God’s love in the messy, reality of complex lives with such integrity.

    Thank you

    Like

  2. Thank you for this. I think many ministers like my self wrestle with a sense of guilt about how to respond to these kind of situations. Only yesterday a man for whom we had previously bought shoes, and in the past given small amounts of cash, came again with another story. Thirty years of city centre pastoral ministry led me to believe the story was completely untrue, and yet I left feeling guilty. The reminder that truth is paramount in change, but that grace is equal to it , is so helpful.

    Like

    1. Thanks Andrew – it is really tough but its so essential an issue to keep talking about and what boundaries and principles help us decide. I am glad the article was helpful. God bless you in your work.

      Like

  3. Additionally you could have developed the conversation to celebrate the decision by Pret to withdraw its investments/opennings of stores in Palestine/Israel…..expanding the encounter to share God’s heart for truth (and justice) at a macro as well as micro level.

    Hand the sandwich back and celebrate with the staff (probably working of minumum wage – not sure about that? – and not wanting to be at work at such an ungodly hour!!), that at least their employer has made this really important decision.

    Like

    1. Thanks Chris for reading and commenting.

      Yes – I could have done that and in the 55 min talk we definitely covered a lot of issues to do with the unfairness of the world and its systems and power structures. We were not short on big issues to be angry about. When he was justifying nicking the meal I said ‘so you have a bit of Robin Hood thing going on?’ and he smiled and ‘yeah something like that’.

      And I am glad for your comment as I thought at the time – am I being a bit petty and middle-class being concerned about one bit of theft from a multi-national company when there are far bigger issues at play? And I thought about previous uncomfortable meetings I have had with the Pret CEO…but that’s another story…

      But here’s the thing – none of those macro issues mitigates against the personal challenge which I believe he needed to hear. Nicking that food was not good for him – and in his bag he had a whole stash of other stolen drinks and all sorts. The personal does not have to be lined up against the political. We need to link the micro and the macro

      I didn’t challenge him because I was concerned for Pret but because I was concerned for him. Just as you know well, he is like loads of people who need liberation from the personal prison he is in. Its not a macro-justice level answer he needs.

      I think its relevant that whenever I go to rehabs and talk to people and ask them about what triggered their recovery journey it is almost always something negative or challenging. It is never ‘someone was really kind to me and it got me thinking’ or ‘someone convinced me that neo-liberal economics stitched me up’ – its far more likely to be ‘my daughter had a go at me’ or ‘I got nicked for the 4th time in a month’ or the impact of some consequence of the addiction. So this is why I thought this is what this chap needs to hear.

      Have you read any Darren McGarvey? He is the best writer on all this stuff I think. See his Reith lecture: https://gracetruth.blog/2022/12/18/individual-sovereignty-is-over-stated-by-the-right-and-underemphasised-by-the-left/

      Like

      1. Thanks Jon…yeah I was not trying to undermine the importance of the personal aspect of truth speaking. I suppose I think its important to try and give as clear a picture of God’s truth. I do think over the years we have discussed the balance of micro/macro nature of God’s heart. How this can sometime demarcate theology ect.

        To be honest, I love the way that Christ talked to people about their daily lives, but was also able to reveal the wider hypocrisy of the systems in which they were embedded, whilst doing this – woman at the well; good smaritian etc.

        Obviously there is no perfect formula or right/wrong way to share love. And I have no doubt that you would have had an impact on the guys life, but I don’t completely agree that your reflections about people and rehabs.

        I’m not talking about ‘someone was really kind to me and it got me thinking’ or ‘someone convinced me that neo-liberal economics stitched me up’. I’m suggesting that LOVE is beyond the personal and should also include challenging the ‘powers’ as the theologian Walter

        P.S Yeah I know the work of Darren McGarvey…good stuff

        Liked by 1 person

  4. thank you Jon; a reminder to us of the need to speak gently but honestly if truth is to be released to do its work. “The Truth will set you free. “

    Like

Leave a reply to Carol Bendinelli Cancel reply