The Truth Teller
It's often in the unexpected corners of our lives that we uncover parts of ourselves we never knew existed. For me, the revelation came wrapped in a formidable title, spoken over me in the warmth of an African sun.
Seven years ago, I sat in a tour bus in Uganda, surrounded by strangers, all of us travelers on an eleven day adventure. We were a smattering of individuals from different walks of life, all there for a shared purpose: to bear witness to a corner of God’s creation that was both staggeringly beautiful and heartbreakingly real.
One afternoon, as the trip was wrapping up, I posed a simple exercise that would unknowingly change the way I saw myself: "Let’s call out the good in each other." It was a practice of seeing the good in others and speaking truths into existence, truths about who we were and who we could become.
One by one, we went around the bus, each of us speaking words of life and encouragement over the others, fueled by what we had learned through the past few days shared experiences.
When it came my turn to listen, it was Megan Fate, fellow traveler and perhaps the most charismatic of souls I’ve ever met, who changed my life. After a thoughtful pause, she spoke. “You are a truth teller.”
Witch Doctors
The title caught me off guard, not because I doubted its validity, but because it held up a mirror to the part of me that was most active when I was engaging with the world: the part that sought to unearth the unspoken, the overlooked, the deeply true.
I’ve always claimed to be a terrible liar, a confession that might stem, in part, from a certain laziness. Why exhaust oneself trying to keep stories straight, juggling the details and nuances of fiction, when honesty offers a straightforward path? This simplicity, this path of least resistance, has always appealed to my practical nature.
But the revelation I hadn't anticipated was seeing this characteristic from the other side of the coin. It wasn't just about the ease of walking in truth rather than weaving webs of deceit; it was about the inherent value and strength found in transparency and authenticity. The act of consistently choosing honesty over fabrication wasn't a mere avoidance of complication; it was a deliberate stance, a commitment to integrity that I hadn't fully acknowledged until it was reflected back at me under that vast African sky. This realization wasn't just an awakening to a facet of my personality I had undervalued; it was a profound understanding of how this trait, which I had casually attributed to laziness, was actually a cornerstone of my character—a badge of honor in a world often mired in ambiguity.
Of course, my mind began to rifle through the recent past, sifting through memories like pages in a book to figure out what could have prompted such a moniker. Which moment, which conversation had etched this perception of me in Megan's mind?
Then, it struck me. The incident involved a sweet girl in our group—let's call her Courtney, as names often slip through my grasp. She had made an innocent comment about the witch doctors we encountered, noting their loveliness and kindness.
"Let's not be fooled, though," I interjected, "they've probably all been involved in child sacrifice." It was a stark reminder that the ritualistic ceremonies of ancient beliefs were still intertwined with the present worldviews of some in Uganda.
Some might have vocalized such a truth for its shock value or out of a misplaced sense of superiority. But my words were not dressed in drama; they were bare, spoken with the assumption that Courtney had already been introduced to this harsh reality.
Her face fell as reality replaced innocence, and I realized she had not. I hadn't intended to shatter her rose-colored bubble. The witch doctors had indeed been hospitable, their demeanor only tinged with the slightest eerie undertone. The only real criticism of our encounter was their lack of overt joy.
But there Courtney was, blinking in the sudden light of truth, mentally filing this new information in an archive that had been, until that moment, unblemished by such darkness.
Around us, our fellow travelers absorbed the weight of the conversation, a shared silence enveloping the bus. Their hearts reached out to Courtney in a silent communion of empathy, acknowledging the painful arrival of awareness. Yet, amidst the quiet, there was an unspoken acknowledgment of the veracity of my words.
The truth, I realized, was a thread woven into the very fabric of the landscape, inseparable from the red earth of Uganda and casting long shadows over the communities we visited.
I suspect it is from this interaction that Megan Fate procured my new title: Truth Teller.
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