In the world, there was a man so addicted to lying that it had become second nature to him. When he died and entered the world of spirits, he tried to lie as usual, but was greatly ashamed because even before he could speak, all knew his thoughts. No one can be a hypocrite there, because the thought of no heart can remain hidden. The soul as it leaves the body bears in it the imprint of all its sin, and its very members become witnesses against it. Nothing can blot out that stain of sin except the blood of Yeshua. When this man was in the world he regularly tried to distort right into wrong, and wrong into right, but, after his bodily death he learned that there never is, and never can be, a possibility of twisting truth into untruth. He who lies injures and deceives no one but himself, so this man by lying had killed the inner perception to truth, which he had once possessed. I watched him as, inextricably tangled in his own deceit, he turned his face away from the light from above, and hurried away far down into the darkness, where none could see his filthy love of lying, except those spirits who were like in nature to himself.
For Truth is always Truth, and it alone gave this man the sentence of his falseness, and condemned him as a liar.