Speak the Truth

She turned on her heels, ball still rolling, and looked me dead in the face.“Shut up.”

She said each word like its own sentence, with a force that made it clear she meant it.

Shaken and confused, I stood there in shock at her retaliation. In a moment of urgency, I had told her to step to the ball—a ball clearly within her reach. She was our closest player to it, and therefore her responsibility to press instead of standing still as if it were anywhere but right in front of her.

As the field went quiet, my coach immediately stepped over with authority. Without hesitation he told her to grab her bags and go home. Offended and in disbelief, she tried to argue her way out of it. But my coach explained that I was right to tell her to step, and that her laziness and attitude would not be tolerated.

She ripped off her tape and shin guards, shoved her things in her bag, and stormed off to her black BMW, the windows tinted so dark you couldn’t see her face as she sat down in the driver’s seat.

She sped out of the lot in rage.

And we returned to playing.

Most days we’re not so fortunate to have an authority figure watching all of our conversations—someone ready to step in without needing an explanation and immediately bring justice.

That day was different. My coach didn’t wait to gather both sides of the story. He didn’t shrink back out of fear of hurting feelings or escalating things further. He acted with boldness and integrity. And it taught me that I could be bold too.

This moment is burned into my mind. Nothing like it had ever happened before, and nothing like it has happened since. But it gave me confidence to speak when I notice something isn’t right.

The funny part is, when I told my teammate to step, I hadn’t thought about it ahead of time. No consulting myself, no weighing whether I should stay quiet. We were in the heat of the game, I was fueled to win, and I knew her inaction was going to cost us. We didn’t have time to sit down, braid each other’s hair, and talk about our feelings. Action needed to be taken—right then and there.

And maybe she blew up at me because she knew I was right. Maybe it was her own conscience screaming back at me, because deep down she recognized her laziness.

But how often do we hold back what really needs to be said? How often do we downplay situations as “not that urgent” or “not that bad”? Or sit back hoping someone else will step up?

What I’ve found is that being the person to say something—when you do have awareness of its consequences—takes radical courage. I didn’t expect my teammate to retaliate. But someone had to say it.

And most of the time, others see the same thing we do—they’re just waiting for someone to be the first responder.

Now, in my adult life, I find myself taking stands in even small ways.

I remember being at a medical sales conference in Orlando with my coworkers. By day three, I was over the endless drinking. Every afternoon at 3 p.m. the bar cart would roll through the convention center, followed by more at dinner, and more bar hopping late into the night.

That afternoon, I reluctantly grabbed a Corona Light, taking the slowest, smallest sips I could. Suddenly, a coworker I considered a friend called me out.“You’re really nursing your beer there, Mere.”

I immediately felt agitated. I had been trying to fly under the radar, but my cover was blown. I was embarrassed and annoyed. But I was so done drinking at that point, there was no way I was going to lie or change my behavior to appease her.

So I said, “Yeah. Actually, I’m not really interested in drinking anymore. We’ve had so much, and I’m kind of tired of it.”

As soon as I said it, others in the group admitted similar things:“Yeah, it’s really not that great for you.”“I’ve been trying to watch my weight.”Another even confessed, “I’m Mormon. I haven’t been drinking for years.”

It was like everyone exhaled at once. The masks came down, and we were finally real with each other.

I’ve had more moments like this since—when honesty opened the door for others too. But not every story ends that way. Some truths I’ve spoken about my values and the direction of my life have cost me relationships. Painful losses I still feel.

And yet, even in those losses, I have the confidence of knowing my integrity is intact. I’m fully committed to my beliefs and who I am. And that feels far better than settling or pretending.

We live in a world quick to scream allegiances and “truth” online, but hesitant to confront real issues in our personal lives. Saying things through a screen gives us a pseudo-feeling of making a difference, when the reality is we’re still afraid to tell our best friend what we’re struggling with—or admit we belong to the “other” political party.

In the process, we’ve traded our voices for the comfort of our egos. And in doing so, we’ve lost the integrity of our values, causes, and sense of self.

So today, I want to encourage you: identify one small area in your life where you’re afraid to speak truth. Maybe it’s with your boss. Maybe with your partner. Maybe it’s with yourself—admitting that the life you’re living doesn’t align with who you want to be.

Whatever it is, hold it. Question it. Ask: What would it look like for me to tell the truth here? And should it be said?

Sometimes we hold the very keys to freedom for ourselves and others—and don’t even realize it.

“Death and life are in the power of the tongue, and those who love it will eat its fruit.”—Proverbs 18:21