Truth That’s Hard to Hear

We’ve all been there. A friend says something you know doesn’t align with Scripture—maybe about identity, forgiveness, or a big life decision—and your instinct is to say, “Well… that’s sin.” You’re not trying to be harsh. You just want them to know the truth. But as soon as those words land, the conversation is over.

The truth matters. But how we speak it matters, too.

Author Tim Keller suggests that every culture holds a mix of beliefs—some that align with biblical truth (he calls these “A” beliefs), and others that push against it (“B” beliefs). Instead of launching into a direct confrontation with a B belief, Keller suggests we float it on top of an A belief—something the person already accepts or senses to be true.

Why “float”? Because some truths—like the reality of sin—feel too heavy to carry on their own. But if you place a heavy rock named sin on the raft of something familiar and already trusted, they stay afloat. They can be heard without sinking the whole conversation.

This isn’t about watering down the gospel. It’s about keeping the conversation open long enough for grace to be heard.

We often forget that many people already feel the weight of brokenness. They live with guilt, regret, shame—even if they wouldn’t use those words. They’re aware that something’s off, that we aren’t as whole or good or kind as we wish we were. That’s your raft. You can gently ask, “Where do you think that feeling comes from?” or “What do you think it says about the world—or about us?” That’s the starting place. Not with a declaration, but with a question.

From there, you can begin to float the deeper truth: that the Bible names this brokenness as sin. Not just making mistakes or disappointing ourselves, but a deeper kind of disconnection—from the God who made us and loves us. And that this condition isn’t something we can fix on our own.

And then—only then—you can speak about grace. About how God doesn’t leave us in that brokenness. How Jesus came not to make bad people better, but to bring dead people to life. That grace makes no sense unless we understand the weight of sin. But sin feels unbearable unless we’ve already glimpsed the possibility of grace.

If we lead with accusation, people walk away. But if we lead with shared experience, honest questions, and humble clarity, they just might stay long enough to hear the good news.

So yes, truth matters. But so does tone. And timing. And trust.

Let’s speak boldly—but let’s also speak wisely. Let’s ask God for the courage to name what’s broken, and the gentleness to show where hope begins.

Takeaway:
Next time you feel the urge to declare what’s wrong, pause. Is there something the person already believes or feels that can carry the truth you need to share? Start there—and float the gospel on top.