BURKES COLUMN: The convenient truths

Last month, I was in Las Vegas attending a writing conference for war veterans when I met an old warrior from Utah who introduced himself as a Pulitzer Prize nominee. The claim was odd because I knew I hadn't seen his name on the recent Pulitzer press release.

But neither was he lying.
Like many who make this claim, he simply didn't understand the definition of “nomination.” He assumed that since his self-publisher had paid $50 to “submit” his work to the Pulitzer committee he'd been “nominated.” After I briefly explained to him that the words “nominated” and “submitted” are about as far apart as “lotto winner” is from “ticket purchaser,” he confessed ignorance.

“That's OK,” I said. “You didn't know.”

Happy to live with his mistake, he was consoled by the fact that the Pulitzer claim had “sold a lot of books.” The old vet knew that telling the truth isn't always convenient, but neither is it always profitable.

This was also the lesson learned by a young captain I met during one of my deployments. The young man came to my office to discuss some problems that developed with his new girlfriend during their shared deployment. The girlfriend recently had returned home, and he was anxious to follow her on the next flight.

The first problem was that they'd been intimate, and General Order No. 1 forbids sexual contact in a war zone. It is a court-martial offense and punishable under the Uniform Code of Military Justice.

The second problem was that she had recently sent him some nude photos of herself. The same general order forbids possession of pornographic images.

The third problem: His girlfriend was married. Adultery is also a court-martial offense.

Furthermore, our commander constantly had declared that crimes committed during deployment would be punishable in the war zone. If discovered, this man was looking at a six-month incarceration in our base brig (problem No. 4).

But it gets worse.
The real problem was that his girlfriend's husband had found the photos and was threatening to release them to the commander.

“What should I do?” he asked.

I wanted to tell him that sometimes stupid just can't be fixed. Instead, I advised him much like I did the old soldier coveting a Pulitzer: “Lead with the truth.”

Not wanting to see him in jail, I advised him to call a lawyer. “Tell your commander what happened before the enraged husband squeals.”

These incidents remind me of the rich playboy who offers a woman a thousand dollars for illicit relations.

When the woman indicated she'd be glad to discuss the terms, the playboy countered, “How about $500?”

“Absolutely not! What kind of woman do you think I am?” she asks.

“We've already established what kind of woman you are,” the man says. “We're just haggling over your current price.”

Like the woman in the parable, the old vet wanted to be truthful, but not if it cost him book sales. The young captain fancied himself an officer, but not if it cost him a lover.

Perhaps these stories prove the cynical adage that everyone has their price, but I suspect you'd take better counsel from Jesus' question, “What does it profit a man if he gains the whole world, but loses his soul?”

Jesus knew that, at the end of the day, selling out costs us everything.

Norris Burkes is a syndicated columnist, national speaker and author of “No Small Miracles.” You can call him at 321-549-2500, email him at ask@thechaplain.net, visit his website thechaplain.net or write him at P.O. Box 247, Elk Grove, CA 95759.