The Big Ten: Lying (it's a no, no)

​The ninth commandment isn’t just about lying in court—it’s about living in truth. It’s about creating a world where trust is the norm. Where our word actually means something.

“You shall not bear false witness against your neighbor.”         Exodus 20:16 - 

When my brother and I were just old enough for mischief, my mom whipped up a batch of brownies for my sister’s school bake sale.

​She had stacked in them a perfect little pyramid on the counter to cool. And of course, my brother and I were promptly shooed out of the kitchen and told, in no uncertain terms, not to touch them.

​Now, I know what you’re thinking—two boys, old enough for mischief, probably didn’t take last week’s message on stealing to heart.

​And if that’s what you’re thinking, you’re probably right. Because when I wandered back in to sneak a little piece, i noticed the top of that brownie pyramid had mysteriously vanished. ​

​While trying to figure out who did it, my Mom appeared. Narrowing her eyes at me she yelled, “Who ate the brownies?”
 
I knew it wasn’t me, so I blamed my brother. And of a course, he quickly blamed me. This full-scale courtroom drama went back and forth, until our Dad walked in.
 
Pointing out the chocolate crumbs in his beard I shouted, “See, I wasn’t lying.”
 
It’s easy to tangle the truth when self-protection takes over. Fudging the facts about a brownie raid is harmless enough. But when we throw someone under the bus to save our hides, well, that takes us to our commandment today.
 
Number nine from Exodus 20:16 - “You shall not bear false witness against your neighbor.”
 
When this commandment was given, “bearing false witness” was legal language. It wasn’t about embellishing a fishing story or fibbing on your golf score. It meant giving a dishonest testimony in court.
 
With no forensic or video evidence, a single lie could destroy someone’s life. If you accused your neighbor of stealing your goat, you better be sure. Because that neighbor could lose everything- land, livelihood, and even his life.
 
I learned a new word this week: “Hornswoggle” It’s an obscure verb that means “to cheat or deceive someone.” For example, “The card trick was designed to hornswoggle an unsuspecting gambler out of his money.” That’s what this commandment is all about - refusing to hornswoggle.
 
The Hebrew phrase, ‘ed shaker’, means “a deceptive witness.” It’s not about little fibs, like shaving a few pounds off your drivers license. It’s about distorting reality in ways that harm others. Deuteronomy 19 says if a witness lies, the punishment meant for the accused is given to the liar.
 
Justice depends on truth. Community depends on truth. Relationship with God depends on truth. When we bend it, we don’t just break trust between people. We tear at the covenant between heaven and earth.
 
In advertising, we had a saying: “Perception is reality.”  That’s great for selling cars… but terrible for building communities. It’s troubling to think how easy I could craft an ad that could sway and shape someone’s opinion.
 
Today, we see spin as a powerful skill. But really it’s just a polished version of bearing false witness. Politicians twist facts to gain power. Media personalities bend truth for ratings. And sometimes, the church has manipulated truth to protect its comfortable position.
 
As I said when we started this series, political and religious leaders have no problem spreading false stories about immigrants, the poor, and the LGBTQ+ community to make themselves look good.

Those lies don’t just fracture our country—they endanger people and erode human dignity. When we bear false witness—through gossip, social media, or silence—we become accomplices in someone else’s harm.
 
Jesus knew what it was like firsthand. He stood before Pilate as the accusations piled up. In his defense, Jesus said, “For this I came into the world—to testify to the truth” (John 18:37).

​And a very jaded and cynical Pilate famously asked, “What is truth?” That question still echoes in our age of misinformation and “alternative facts.”
 
For Jesus, truth isn’t a concept. It’s a way of being. He told his disciples, “I am the way, the truth, and the life.” And that truth isn’t something you own; it’s something you embody. The truth Jesus embodied is this: God is love.
 
On the flight home I watched the new spy thriller Black Bag. There’s a scene when Clarissa, a young MI5 agent, turns to her partner George and says, “We’re all professional liars—how can you tell the truth about anything?” It’s a haunting question, isn’t it?
 
Because even if we’re not spies, most of us know what it’s like to live behind small disguises and half-truths. Maybe it’s the color of your hair. Or your age on a dating profile. We curate what others see. We edit our stories. We say we’re “fine” when we’re not.
 
Somewhere along the way, truth becomes less about honesty and more about survival. Like two brothers trying to escape the wrath of an angry mom.
 
Clarissa’s question cuts deeper than espionage. It exposes our human dilemma. How do we live faithfully in a world built on appearances and self-preservation? Where perception has become reality?

​The ninth commandment isn’t just about lying in court--it’s about living in truth. It’s about creating a world where trust is the norm. Where our word actually means something.
 
My father-in-law was notorious for buying property with nothing more than a handshake. People made deals with him because his word meant something. Henri Nouwen once wrote, “Words are the most powerful tools we have. They can be the walls that divide or the bridges that connect.”
 
We’ve all felt the sting of words used carelessly—or maliciously. A rumor whispered. A half-truth repeated. A story told out of context. When words become weapons, they pierce the soul. The only way to stop the bleeding is to tell the truth. And to tell it with love.
 
Kathleen once used a tube of toothpaste to teach our kids about the importance of this notion. She squeezed it all on a plate and handed them the tube. “Now,” she said, “put it back in.” They tried, of course, laughing, squishing, making a mess—quickly discovering it couldn’t be done. Once a lie is loosed into the world, it takes on a life of its own. We can apologize. We can repent. But we can never fully undo the damage.
 
Which is why I believe this commandment isn’t just about controlling our words. It’s about shaping our hearts. Jesus said, “It’s not what goes into your mouth that defiles you, but what comes out.” Because what we say flows from who we are. When our hearts are grounded in love, our words will carry that love forward into the world.
 
Truth, like love, is relational. That Hebrew phrase, ed shaker,  shares its root with faithfulness and trust. When we speak truth in love, we build trust. And trust builds a community of love in the space between our hearts and a handshake. 
 
So, what does this mean for us—right here, right now? It means tell the truth. But even more, live the truth. Be the kind of people who tell stories that help instead of harm. A community whose honesty reveals its faithfulness. When you see misinformation, correct it gently. And remember sometimes false witness isn’t what we say, but what we leave unsaid.
 
Silence in the face of injustice is its own kind of lie. And lastly, this commandment calls us to not only avoid falsehoods, but to also “bear witness.”  To speak the truth so that every person knows they are God’s beloved creation. That they are loved no matter what someone else might say or think.
 
When our speech is soaked in love, our words become a sacrament—an outward sign of God’s inward grace. So this week, before you speak, post, or repeat a story, ask these three questions Kathleen taught me:Is it true? Is it kind? Is it necessary? If it doesn’t pass all three, then maybe silence is the holiest witness you can bear.
 
As you step out into the world, remember who you are. Let every word you offer carry grace instead of judgment. Kindness instead of fear. Light instead of noise. May your honesty be gentle, your silence be wise. And your love be the loudest truth your heart can tell.
 
Let us pray: