When lying would have been easier, a different choice was made.
Paul was a Japanese Jesuit preacher. He lived during a time when Christianity was banned in Japan. With him were 25 other Christians, later known as the 26 Martyrs of Japan.
They were arrested in late 1596 and executed on February 5, 1597, on Nishizaka Hill in Nagasaki. The execution was public and intended to suppress the Christian faith.
While on the cross, Paul Miki spoke to the crowd. He forgave those who condemned them and remained faithful until death. None of the 26 renounced their belief.
People today often lie or deny over small matters to avoid discomfort or inconvenience. Saint Paul Miki and his companions did not lie or deny their faith, even when it meant death.
What starts as an alibi can slowly change how we see truth, others, and even ourselves.
For those who’d rather listen.
A lie is a choice to twist the truth on purpose. It is not a mistake or confusion. It is knowing what is real and choosing to say something else.
Most people do not lie because they are bad. They lie because they are scared. Scared of judgment, scared of conflict, scared of being seen as they really are. Fear is usually the root, not evil.
There is also what people call a white lie. It is a lie told to avoid hurting someone or to keep peace. It sounds kind and sometimes feels understandable. Still, even a white lie is a lie. It is truth covered lightly, hoping no one looks too closely.
Lying is not the worst thing humans do. There are worse things like violence, cruelty, and intentional harm. But lies often come first. Before harm, there is denial. Before injustice, there is distortion. Lying becomes the entry point.
The real danger is not one lie but repetition. When lying becomes normal, reality starts to bend. When reality bends often enough, conscience follows. What once felt wrong slowly feels acceptable.
Avoiding lies does not mean being brutal. It means slowing down and pausing before answering. It means saying less instead of inventing more, choosing gentle truth instead of fake comfort. Not every truth needs full detail. Boundaries are not lies. Silence is not dishonesty. Saying “I’m not ready to talk about that” is still honest.
Knowing when someone is lying is not about tricks or detectors. There is no perfect test. But lies leave patterns. Stories shift. Explanations grow longer. Answers dodge the question. And after the conversation, instead of clarity, there is confusion.
Truth may feel awkward in the moment, but it does not need maintenance. It lets you sleep without carrying extra stories. Lies feel easier at first, then heavier over time. Truth does not perform or demand attention. It simply stays where it is.
This is a song I wrote in 1989. It says the part about lies that explanations usually miss. It’s about consent to illusion.
I Believe Your Lies
Another long sleepless night
Thinking of some unforgotten moments
You may be old enough to understand
But you’re too young to withstand
Another alibi, I guess just a lie
Cutting the dotted lines of a discount coupon
I can’t take the bargain
Can’t blame anyone if I never gain
’Cause I believe your lies
As I look into your eyes
I believe in your lies
Another form of a bad routine
Saying wrong words from right thoughts
Only God knows what’s behind an alibi
Wish I could be there forever with you
’Cause I believe your lies
As I look into your eyes
I believe in your lies
Today (January 18, 2026) happens to be the 70th birthday of Tom Bailey of Thompson Twins. Fitting timing, considering how much this piece circles around lies.
