Dear Reader,
This morning, I read a passage from As Bill Sees It, page 172:
“Only God can fully know what absolute honesty is. Therefore, each of us has to conceive what this great ideal may be–to the best of our ability.
“Fallible as we all are, and will be in this life, it would be a presumption to suppose that we could ever really achieve absolute honesty. The best we can do is to strive for a better quality of honesty.
“Sometimes we need to place love ahead of indiscriminate ‘factual honesty.’ We cannot, under the guise of ‘perfect honesty,’ cruelly and unnecessarily hurt others. Always one must ask, ‘What is the best and most loving thing I can do?’” Letter, 1966
What stands out in Bill’s words is his picture of mature honesty.
When many of us first embrace honesty, especially in recovery, we may think of it simply as “telling the facts.” We become determined not to lie, hide, or rationalize. That is essential; the Big Book calls it “rigorous honesty.”
Yet as I have grown spiritually, I have learned that honesty and love must work together. They belong side by side.
The Apostle Paul wrote that we should speak “the truth in love” (Ephesians 4:15).
Truth without love can become a weapon. Love without truth can drift into sentimentality. The challenge is to hold both together, keeping truth and kindness in balance.
Looking back on my recovery, I had to be honest about my alcoholism, failures, losses, and regrets. I could not soften the reality of addiction. Facing the truth opened the way to hope, grace, forgiveness, and God’s love.
As I record my journey today, I acknowledge painful chapters: lost relationships, Joe’s death, family estrangement, illness, and disappointment. I bring these truths to God and ask, “What can You teach me through this?”
One phrase in Bill’s message especially catches my attention: “What is the best and most loving thing I can do?” That question moves honesty from the courtroom into the heart.
The courtroom asks: “Is it factually true?”
Love asks: “Is it true, necessary, and helpful?”
Both matter.
I am reminded of what sponsors often learn. A sponsor may see a sponsee making a mistake. Brutal honesty might confront it immediately and forcefully.
Loving honesty seeks the right time, spirit, and words so the truth can actually be heard.
Jesus often modeled this kind of honesty.
With the woman taken in adultery, He did not deny the truth of her sin, but He did not shame her publicly. He protected her dignity first, then lovingly said, “Go, and sin no more” (John 8:11).
Truth and mercy walked together. I have spent much time trying to live honestly before God.
If this passage contains a hidden challenge, it may be this: to be honest with ourselves about God’s grace, even in our shortcomings.
Many of us in recovery become skilled at admitting faults but less skilled at receiving God’s gifts. Yet Bill often wrote that humility is not thinking less of ourselves; it is seeing ourselves truthfully. That means acknowledging both our defects and our blessings.
As I reflect on Elijah, David, and my own recovery journey, I am reminded that honesty is not only confessing weakness. It is also accepting that God still works through imperfect people.
Perhaps that is the “better quality of honesty” Bill had in mind.
Not perfection.
Not brutal candor.
Not self-condemnation.
Instead, it is the humble willingness to stand before God and say:
“This is who I am today—strengths, weaknesses, failures, gifts, and all—and I trust Your grace to keep shaping me.”
That strikes me as both honest and loving.
🙏🧘♂️💕🤗☮️
