I learned one thing in Watergate: I was well-intentioned but

The words of Charles Colson—“I learned one thing in Watergate: I was well-intentioned but rationalized illegal behavior. You cannot live your life other than walking in the truth. Your means are as important as your ends”—stand as both confession and commandment. They are the testimony of a man who once strayed into shadows, only to learn that no greatness, no victory, no triumph of ambition can endure if built on falsehood. In them we hear the voice of one who has walked through fire, been consumed, and emerged with wisdom scorched upon his soul.

The meaning is clear: it is not enough to aim at noble ends if the means by which we seek them are corrupt. Many have deceived themselves with the thought that the destination justifies the journey, that the cause sanctifies the crime. Colson admits he was among them. In the dark storm of Watergate, he convinced himself that loyalty, power, and political victory outweighed truth and law. But when the edifice of lies crumbled, he saw that false means poison even the highest ends. To build on deception is to build on sand, and when the floods come, all collapses into ruin.

The ancients knew this peril. In the Mahabharata, Yudhishthira, noble king, was once persuaded to utter a half-truth in war, believing it would serve justice. But even that single compromise left a stain, leading to consequences that haunted him forever. In this epic tale we are shown the eternal truth: to compromise with dishonesty, even for what we call a greater good, is to invite destruction. Colson’s words stand in this same stream of wisdom—that only those who walk in truth can stand unbroken, while those who weave lies, however well-intentioned, will one day fall into the snares they set.

History offers another example in Abraham Lincoln, who in his struggle to preserve the Union faced pressure to seize shortcuts, to ignore law for expedience. Yet Lincoln insisted, “We cannot escape history,” and sought to act within the bounds of principle, even when the road was slower and harder. His greatness was not only in his ends—the preservation of the Union and the abolition of slavery—but in the means he chose, rooted in law, justice, and truth. It was this marriage of right ends and right means that gave his leadership its enduring power.

Colson’s lesson is not merely for nations and rulers, but for every soul. In our daily lives, we too are tempted to excuse dishonesty, to justify shortcuts, to clothe selfish acts in noble-sounding reasons. We tell ourselves, “It is for the family… for stability… for peace.” But every rationalized lie corrodes the soul, and every dishonest step leads us further from freedom. Only when we resolve to live truthfully in word and deed do we find the peace of a conscience unburdened. For truth, though hard, is light; lies, though convenient, are chains.

The teaching is thus: your means are as important as your ends. Seek not only noble goals, but noble paths. If your destination is just, let your journey also be just. If your aim is love, let love shape your methods. If your vision is freedom, let honesty be the road beneath your feet. To walk in truth may be slower, harder, lonelier, but it is the only road that does not betray you in the end.

Therefore, O seeker, take this wisdom into your heart: walk in the truth, and do not stray. Do not be deceived by the glitter of false victories or the sweetness of rationalized lies. For the house of deception collapses, but the house built on truth endures. Let your means be as pure as your ends, and you will walk not only in success, but in honor. In this way, you shall leave behind not the ashes of ambition, but the lasting light of a life lived with integrity.