There is something strange about truth.
We pray for it.
We demand it.
We say, “Just tell me the truth.”
But when it arrives raw and unfiltered — we flinch.
Often we don’t reject truth because it is false. We reject it because it lands too accurately. Too directly. Too close to home. That discomfort — that tightening in the chest, that sudden irritation is usually where the real issue begins.
The Pharisees’ conflict with Jesus Christ was not merely about personality. It was about the message — its clarity, its boldness, the willingness to say openly what others whispered privately. They recognized its force. And truth spoken plainly unsettles systems built on comfortable illusions.
It has always been easier to attack the messenger than confront the message.
We claim to hate deception, yet when uncomfortable truths touch our politics, institutions, or personal contradictions, we respond differently. We question motives. We label critics. We dismiss voices. Sometimes we silence them socially, spiritually, or legally.
Why?
Because truth exposes what we have grown used to defending. And when that exposure comes, the instinct is resistance. Narratives shift. Facts blur. Loyalty lines form. Suddenly truth looks extreme, disrespectful, or threatening.
Sound familiar?
Consider Nigeria.
We understand many of our challenges. We talk about them in taxis, barber shops, church groups, and WhatsApp threads. Corruption did not appear overnight. Incompetence is not accidental. Real progress demands political will, moral courage, and structural reform.
Yet when someone states this plainly — when attention turns toward root causes — defensiveness follows.
“He’s attacking our region.”
“She’s insulting our faith.”
“They must be politically sponsored.”
The message disappears. The messenger becomes the story.
Recent administrations have mastered blame as strategy. Each inherits dysfunction and spends years explaining why responsibility lies elsewhere. Meanwhile authority remains in their hands. Opportunity exists, but accountability is deferred.
And citizens are not blameless.
We condemn vote-buying while tolerating it when convenient.
We recognize tribal loyalty clouds judgment, yet defend our own despite evidence.
We identify manipulative narratives, yet circulate them when they suit us.
Then when someone points out these patterns, exposure feels personal — and we push back.
Ego plays its part. Admitting complicity is uncomfortable. It is easier to fault leadership alone, or history, or colonial legacies, or external forces — anyone but ourselves.
Leadership matters. Systems matter. Structures matter deeply. But systems endure because ordinary people protect, enable, excuse, or tolerate them.
Nigeria’s struggle is not only governance — it is selective honesty.
We want truth that validates us.
Accountability that targets others.
Reform without personal cost.
So when journalists question boldly, activists challenge publicly, or citizens speak plainly, attention shifts from substance to personality.
“Who does he think he is?”
“Why is she always criticizing?”
“Is he even qualified?”
Again, the messenger absorbs the focus while the message fades.
And yet — privately — we know.
We recognize where problems begin.
We understand that solutions are not mystical.
We sense that change requires uncomfortable adjustments — political, moral, personal.
But truth demands humility, and humility is costly.
Here is my conclusion — imperfect, but sincere: perhaps we don’t just resist lies. Perhaps we resist truth when it asks something of us — when it disrupts comfort, threatens alliances, or removes neutrality.
Even if truth arrived through an angel, we might still critique the angel.
So is it the message or the messenger?
Both have influence. But when we fixate on the voice and ignore the substance, we remain trapped in cycles of outrage without progress.
Truth is not always polite or diplomatic. It can unsettle. It can inconvenience. Yet without it, healing, personal or national does not begin.
Until we learn to separate irritation from evaluation…
Until we examine substance before dismissing source…
We will keep chasing distractions while real issues stand plainly before us.
Nations do not collapse because truth is absent. They collapse because truth is unwelcome.
Chris Curtis.
email: chriscurtiswrites@gmail.com
Facebook link: https://www.facebook.com/share/1bqvGFzDn3/?mibextid=wwXIfr
