Two Truths and a Lie
"I'm going to say three statements. Two of them are true, and one is false. You try to find which one is false."
These girls, ranging in age from 17 to 22, had never played this game before, so I started out pretty easy.
"I'm twenty-five years old. I have a younger sister. I don't eat meat."
They smiled and looked around at each other sheepishly until one was brave enough to answer. "You don't eat meat. That's a lie."
"Very good!" I responded and they all laughed. "How did you know?" I asked very intentionally.
"Because I've seen you eat meat," she replied and I praised her again. "You know me well enough to know that I eat meat. You've also seen a picture of my little sister. And I've told you I'm twenty-five."
We did a few more rounds, and I let the girls take turns giving it a try. They were all pretty bad at lying, which is a pretty good thing I guess. We got quite a few laughs out of it.
"How can you know the difference between a truth and lie?" I asked, and they bounced around some thoughtful answers. "Think about the game we just played," I added. "If I play with someone I know well, they will guess the lie every time because they know me. But if I played with some random person on the street, it would be much harder because they don't know what's true about me or not. It's the same thing with God." Their eyes were hooked on me as I continued to explain that the more we know God, the more we are able to know truth. We know that everything he says is true; we also know that everything the enemy tells us is a lie. He does nothing but lie, yet he makes it tricky (just like the game) to make us think what he is saying is true. However, if we know our Father, then we know his voice, and we can easily distinguish between truths and lies.
I passed out a piece of notebook paper that I had photocopied from my notebook. I have a list of Biblical truths that was given to me when I was a teenage girl, and I have kept it all these years. I translated the most relevant ones into French with their scripture references, contrasting each truth with a lie, and giving each girl a copy to keep as a gift.
The first line across the top read:
Lie - you aren't worth anything. Truth - you are created by God and have great value in his eyes. (Psalm 139)
I pictured Charlotte on my front porch this week when we were having a heart to heart talk about the troubles of women and girls in his culture. She pointed at her simple, rubber, black flip flop and said, "I've only lived among the dagara people for a year, but I have noticed this one thing. The dagara believe that these lousy shoes are worth more than a dagara woman."
And we are determined to do something about that.
As I read the first lie - "you aren't worth anything" - and asked them if they had ever felt that or thought that, their eyes were fixed on me with a silent yes. I confessed that even I feel that way sometimes, and then I told them with as much truthful force as I could, "That is a lie."
We read Psalm 139 together, one of my favorites when I was their age, and I reaffirmed that their Father says they have infinite value in his eyes.
"When you are tempted to think that you aren't worth anything, call it out as a lie. You know the voice of your Father now who says that you are so very valuable and beautiful."
I remember how much it meant to me as a teenager to be in small group girls Bible studies. I remember how I felt loved by the women who led those groups and invested in me. Now I get to give back in the same way that I received. Except I never would have imagined in those moments that God would later give me a little flock of African teenage girls, many of them orphans, who don't have a mother, youth minister, or mentor to tell them these truths. From the looks on their faces, I wondered if it was the first time someone told them how valuable they are. They listened as if it were the good news they had been longing to hear for so long. Oh God, please help them believe it.
As each of the seven girls left, we hugged each other and said, "God loves you, and so do I." I didn't originally plan that, but it seemed fitting. One thing I do have in common with these orphan girls (because I'm away from my family) is that I don't get enough hugs, and I don't get to hear "I love you" as much as I used to. We all needed it.
After they left, I swept the peanut shells off the porch, cleaned up the nail polish, and rolled up the mats. I was left with sweet memories of our first teen girls get-together and Bible study, complete with peanut munching, mini manicures and pedicures, beautiful singing along to the guitar in French and English, and a little devo on what is true in a world full of lies. I already can't wait for next time.
Until then, I hope those girls read that list of truths over and over until it starts to sink down to the thirsty roots of their hearts. Join me in praying for them, that the voice of truth of their loving Father will resound louder and clearer than the lies they have heard for way too long.
These girls, ranging in age from 17 to 22, had never played this game before, so I started out pretty easy.
"I'm twenty-five years old. I have a younger sister. I don't eat meat."
They smiled and looked around at each other sheepishly until one was brave enough to answer. "You don't eat meat. That's a lie."
"Very good!" I responded and they all laughed. "How did you know?" I asked very intentionally.
"Because I've seen you eat meat," she replied and I praised her again. "You know me well enough to know that I eat meat. You've also seen a picture of my little sister. And I've told you I'm twenty-five."
We did a few more rounds, and I let the girls take turns giving it a try. They were all pretty bad at lying, which is a pretty good thing I guess. We got quite a few laughs out of it.
"How can you know the difference between a truth and lie?" I asked, and they bounced around some thoughtful answers. "Think about the game we just played," I added. "If I play with someone I know well, they will guess the lie every time because they know me. But if I played with some random person on the street, it would be much harder because they don't know what's true about me or not. It's the same thing with God." Their eyes were hooked on me as I continued to explain that the more we know God, the more we are able to know truth. We know that everything he says is true; we also know that everything the enemy tells us is a lie. He does nothing but lie, yet he makes it tricky (just like the game) to make us think what he is saying is true. However, if we know our Father, then we know his voice, and we can easily distinguish between truths and lies.
I passed out a piece of notebook paper that I had photocopied from my notebook. I have a list of Biblical truths that was given to me when I was a teenage girl, and I have kept it all these years. I translated the most relevant ones into French with their scripture references, contrasting each truth with a lie, and giving each girl a copy to keep as a gift.
The first line across the top read:
Lie - you aren't worth anything. Truth - you are created by God and have great value in his eyes. (Psalm 139)
I pictured Charlotte on my front porch this week when we were having a heart to heart talk about the troubles of women and girls in his culture. She pointed at her simple, rubber, black flip flop and said, "I've only lived among the dagara people for a year, but I have noticed this one thing. The dagara believe that these lousy shoes are worth more than a dagara woman."
And we are determined to do something about that.
As I read the first lie - "you aren't worth anything" - and asked them if they had ever felt that or thought that, their eyes were fixed on me with a silent yes. I confessed that even I feel that way sometimes, and then I told them with as much truthful force as I could, "That is a lie."
We read Psalm 139 together, one of my favorites when I was their age, and I reaffirmed that their Father says they have infinite value in his eyes.
"When you are tempted to think that you aren't worth anything, call it out as a lie. You know the voice of your Father now who says that you are so very valuable and beautiful."
I remember how much it meant to me as a teenager to be in small group girls Bible studies. I remember how I felt loved by the women who led those groups and invested in me. Now I get to give back in the same way that I received. Except I never would have imagined in those moments that God would later give me a little flock of African teenage girls, many of them orphans, who don't have a mother, youth minister, or mentor to tell them these truths. From the looks on their faces, I wondered if it was the first time someone told them how valuable they are. They listened as if it were the good news they had been longing to hear for so long. Oh God, please help them believe it.
As each of the seven girls left, we hugged each other and said, "God loves you, and so do I." I didn't originally plan that, but it seemed fitting. One thing I do have in common with these orphan girls (because I'm away from my family) is that I don't get enough hugs, and I don't get to hear "I love you" as much as I used to. We all needed it.
After they left, I swept the peanut shells off the porch, cleaned up the nail polish, and rolled up the mats. I was left with sweet memories of our first teen girls get-together and Bible study, complete with peanut munching, mini manicures and pedicures, beautiful singing along to the guitar in French and English, and a little devo on what is true in a world full of lies. I already can't wait for next time.
Until then, I hope those girls read that list of truths over and over until it starts to sink down to the thirsty roots of their hearts. Join me in praying for them, that the voice of truth of their loving Father will resound louder and clearer than the lies they have heard for way too long.
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