Singularity

 There is no my truth and your truth; there is only the truth. It is singular! When Jesus said He was the truth, He did not allow for multiple interpretations, avenues, or paths. This entire lunacy of my truth versus your truth was invented by Oprah and parroted by middle-aged divorcees who look like they’ve spent a bit too much time in an air fryer because they could not bring themselves to accept the truth.

I mean, extra crispy chicken is great and all, but does it translate to the human species? Just asking, but I digress.

The truth they refused to accept likely varied, whether having to do with their personal life choices, the reality of their undeniable mortality, or that women pastors weren’t a thing in the Bible. Something got under their skin, and rather than acknowledge it, they twisted themselves into pretzels until, in their minds, it made perfect sense. Everyone else is making it up as they go along; why couldn’t they?

If I don’t like the reality of something, I just deny it, and when people give me sideways glances for insisting that water isn’t wet or the sun isn’t hot, I tell them it’s my truth, and they can go pound sand.

It’s no longer morbid obesity; it’s body positivity! Don’t get me wrong; I’m a husky, even Rubenesque fellow myself. However, all things being equal, when you’re pushing a ton and riding a mobility scooter because your legs can’t hold up your weight anymore, I’m pretty positive your body will give out sooner rather than later.

I know, I know, that’s just being mean and hateful. Why can’t you just feed into their delusion and nod along? What harm can it do?

Well, you have grown men putting on dresses and talking about how they’re going to be mommies and have babies, but hey, that’s their truth, isn’t it? The truth is you’re still a man under the dress and eyeliner, and when your doctor told you you have testicular cancer, ma’am, he wasn’t trying to deny your truth; he was just telling you the truth! See the difference?

For fear of offending, or perhaps because it was just easier to placate specific individuals, we’ve been feeding into the psychosis of the unwell for the better part of a decade, all the while telling ourselves that’s what Jesus would do as well. Would He, though? I wonder. I don’t mean to be so brazen as to presume to know the mind of Christ, but He’s been known to be firm, direct, and unyielding while also being loving.

Love as He may, He can’t cure you if you’re unwilling to part with the thing that’s making you sick. It’s like guys crying about needing a liver transplant but reluctant to give up the booze. How does that work exactly? Well, their truth is that it isn’t the booze that’s killing their liver; it was a birth defect.

We’ll get to the Scripture passages and the exegesis thereof in short order, but as I said, this is not a topic to be hammered out in a few minutes on a windy morning. We’re just setting the table. The food is on its way. If you’re hungry, you’ll stick around. If not, this isn’t the Hotel California.

I’ll keep hammering until you cry, uncle. You poke the bear in the eye and act shocked when he bites off your finger? I know, in your truth, bears are cuddly and docile, almost like oversized pets.

Like my mom used to say when she insisted on popping pimples on my forehead or massaging my big toe in the throes of a gout attack, it’s for your good, you’ll see. 

With love in Christ, 

Michael Boldea, Jr.