The Crosstalk of Truth Text: Proverbs 18:17
Introduction: The Age of the Unexamined Narrative
We live in an age that is drowning in information and starving for wisdom. And one of the central reasons for this sad state of affairs is that we have forgotten a most basic, fundamental principle of justice, a principle enshrined right here in our text. We are a people of the hot take, the instant reaction, the unexamined narrative. One side presents its case, often wrapped in the emotionally manipulative language of victimhood, and our culture immediately rushes to judgment. The verdict is in before the other side has even been notified that a trial is underway.
This is not just a feature of our frantic social media landscape; it has infected our courts, our churches, and our families. We have become accustomed to the monologue. One person tells their story, and because it is their "truth," it is considered impolite, or even oppressive, to question it. To ask for the other side of the story is to be accused of "not believing the victim." But the wisdom of God, distilled here in the book of Proverbs, tells us something entirely different. It tells us that truth is not found in a monologue, but rather emerges from a dialogue, often a very sharp and searching one. It is found in the crosstalk.
The world believes that the first story, particularly if it is emotionally compelling, holds a privileged position. But God’s Word instructs us in a kind of procedural righteousness. It provides a framework for arriving at the truth, and that framework is adversarial by nature. This is not adversarial in the sense of being needlessly contentious, but in the sense that truth is best revealed when it is tested, when it is subjected to cross-examination. This proverb is not simply good advice for judges in a courtroom; it is a foundational principle for all human relationships. It is a guardrail against slander, a bulwark against gossip, and a necessary tool for navigating a fallen world where everyone, to one degree or another, is a self-justifier.
If we are to be a people of the truth, we must be a people who understand and apply this proverb. We must learn to suspend judgment, to ask questions, and to insist on hearing the other side before we make up our minds. To do otherwise is not only foolish, it is profoundly unjust. It is to abandon the very process God has given us for discerning right from wrong.
The Text
The first to plead his case seems right,
Until another comes and examines him.
(Proverbs 18:17)
The Plausibility of the First Story (v. 17a)
Let us look at the first part of the verse:
"The first to plead his case seems right..." (Proverbs 18:17a)
The wisdom here is in that little word "seems." There is an inherent plausibility to the first story we hear. When someone comes to you with a grievance, they have had time to arrange the facts in the most favorable light. They have curated the evidence. They know which details to emphasize and which to omit entirely. They are the prosecution, and they are presenting their opening statement without any objection from the defense. And because we are fallen creatures, we are all natural-born spin doctors for our own cause.
This is the story of Ziba and Mephibosheth in 2 Samuel. Ziba comes to David with a compelling story: Mephibosheth, Jonathan's son, has stayed behind in Jerusalem, hoping that the kingdom will be restored to him. Ziba even brings provisions for David's men, adding a touch of apparent loyalty to his tale. David, hearing only this side, immediately believes it and rashly gives all of Mephibosheth's property to Ziba. The first to plead his case seemed right, and David fell for it hook, line, and sinker.
Notice the psychology at work. The first story sets the narrative. It creates the framework through which all subsequent information is interpreted. If the first story is one of abuse, then any defense offered by the other party is easily dismissed as "what an abuser would say." If the first story is one of neglect, then any attempt by the other to explain their actions is seen as "making excuses." The first speaker gets to define the terms of the debate, and this is a massive tactical advantage.
This is why gossip is so pernicious and so effective. The gossiper gets to be the first to plead his case, and he does it in a setting where the accused is not present to offer a defense. The listener hears the plausible-seeming story and, unless he is disciplined by the wisdom of this proverb, forms a judgment. That judgment then hardens into a settled conviction, and a reputation is ruined, all on the basis of an untested, one-sided narrative. The Scriptures tell us that a talebearer reveals secrets, but a man of faithfulness conceals a matter. Part of concealing a matter is refusing to be the judge in a trial where you've only heard from the prosecution.
The Necessity of Cross-Examination (v. 17b)
But the verse does not end with the deceptive appearance of rightness. The rest of the proverb provides the divine corrective.
"...Until another comes and examines him." (Proverbs 18:17b)
The Hebrew word for "examines" here is potent. It means to search, to investigate, to scrutinize. It is a legal term. This is not just about hearing another person's competing story. It is about the second person actively testing the claims of the first. The neighbor, the adversary, comes and cross-examines him. He pokes and prods the narrative. He asks the questions that the first speaker conveniently neglected to answer. "You say he yelled at you, but what did you say right before that?" "You claim she stole your idea, but can you show me the email where you first proposed it?"
This is the bedrock principle of what we have come to call due process. It is a concept shot through the Mosaic law. An accusation could not be established except on the testimony of two or three witnesses (Deut. 19:15). This wasn't just a numbers game; it implied that the witnesses could be questioned and their testimonies compared. The judges were commanded to "inquire diligently," and if a witness was found to be false, he was to receive the very punishment he had sought to bring upon his brother. This is God's system of justice. It has built-in protections against the plausible-seeming story of the lone accuser.
When the Apostle Paul instructs Timothy on how to handle accusations against an elder, he echoes this same principle: "Do not receive an accusation against an elder except from two or three witnesses" (1 Timothy 5:19). Why? Because elders are high-value targets for the enemy. A single, plausible-seeming story from a disgruntled individual could shipwreck the ministry of a faithful man. The requirement for multiple witnesses is a procedural safeguard. It is Proverbs 18:17 applied to church discipline.
This principle reveals something profound about the nature of truth itself. Truth is not fragile. It can withstand scrutiny. It is falsehood, half-truth, and spin that shatters under the pressure of cross-examination. Therefore, the man who is telling the truth should not fear the process. The man who is confident in his case should welcome the arrival of the one who comes to examine him. It is the man who insists that his story be accepted without question who should arouse our suspicion.
Applying the Proverb in a Digital Age
So how do we live this out? How do we apply this ancient wisdom in our own lives, particularly in an age of digital outrage mobs?
First, we must cultivate a disciplined skepticism toward the first report. When you read that headline, when you hear that shocking piece of gossip, your first, sanctified reaction should be, "That's one side of the story." You must train your mind to automatically append the second half of this proverb to the first. Don't forward the email. Don't share the post. Don't whisper it to your spouse. You stop the slander dead in its tracks by refusing to grant it an audience in your own mind until the other side has been heard.
Second, when you are in a position of authority, as a parent, a pastor, or a manager, you must be rigorously committed to procedural fairness. When one child comes to you complaining about his brother, your first question must be, "And what will your brother say when I ask him about this?" You must bring both parties together. You must hear both sides. You must examine. In the church, when someone brings an accusation, you must have the courage to say, "The Bible requires us to hear from the other person before we make any judgment." This is not a lack of compassion; it is the very essence of biblical justice.
Third, we must apply this to ourselves. When we are the ones pleading our own case, we must do so with an awareness of our own biases. We must be honest about the details that paint us in a less-than-flattering light. The righteous man, the Scripture says, is the first to accuse himself. He doesn't just present the facts that support his case; he presents all the relevant facts, because his ultimate desire is for the truth to prevail, not for him to prevail.
The Ultimate Cross-Examination
This proverb is not just a piece of practical wisdom for getting along in the world. It points us to a much deeper, theological reality. Every one of us stands before God as the first to plead his case. Our natural inclination is to justify ourselves. We come before the holy Judge of all the earth and we present our curated evidence. "I was not as bad as that other fellow. I did many good things. My intentions were good." Our case, to us, seems right.
But then another comes to examine us. And that other is the law of God. The law comes and cross-examines our self-righteous narrative. It searches our motives. It scrutinizes our thoughts. It holds up the perfect standard of God's holiness against our shabby performance, and our case completely unravels. The law is the neighbor that comes and searches us, and under its unblinking gaze, every mouth is stopped, and the whole world is held accountable to God (Romans 3:19).
Our self-justification seems right, until the law of God examines it. And when it does, we are left without a defense. We are exposed as guilty. Our plausible story is revealed for the fiction that it is.
But this is where the gospel shines. For when we are exposed and stand condemned by the cross-examination of the law, another Advocate steps forward. Not one who comes to examine us, but one who comes to speak for us. Jesus Christ, the righteous one, is our defense attorney. He does not dispute the findings of the law. He does not try to argue that we are secretly innocent. He says, "The law is right. They are guilty. But I have paid their penalty. My righteousness is theirs."
The accuser, Satan, comes as the first to plead his case against us, and his case seems right. He has plenty of evidence. But then our Advocate, Jesus, comes and examines the case. He does not dispute the facts of our sin, but He presents the fact of His cross. He shows the receipt, paid in full with His own blood. And on that basis, the case is dismissed.
Therefore, let us be a people who love the truth enough to seek it out patiently and justly. Let us be a people who refuse to be swayed by the first plausible story. And let us be a people who know that while our own case before God is hopeless, we have an Advocate who has pleaded a perfect case on our behalf, a case that can never be overturned, because He Himself is the Truth.