By: Jake Kircher
If anything has become clear over the last year, it’s the fact that we have a truth problem to solve. The development and growth of postmodern thought (i.e., all truth is self-defined), along with the internet and the mass amount of information available to us for the first time in humanity, has created a daily buffet that encourages us to just pick and choose what we want to be true. And this isn’t a liberal or conservative issue; it’s an ALL OF US issue. “What is true?” has become a central question we are forced to sort through every day.
Fake news, misinformation, alternate facts, and conflicting stories have been trending topics and great doubt has been sown over the last couple of years about who can really be trusted to tell the truth. Politicians, journalists, newscasters, and even religious leaders, have been called into question about what their motivations are and if they are simply sharing their opinions, as opposed to facts and truth. Simply put, truth for many has become a feeling driven by our desires, personal convictions, and passion. Those things are important, but not enough on their own.
The way forward, in my opinion, is best exemplified in a story about my son’s favorite toy when he was four. It was a large, red fire truck with a string on the front so he could wheel it around the house; except for my son it wasn’t a truck, it was a dog. His name was Eddie and he would take him for walks all the time. If we accidentally kicked it because it was left in the middle of the floor, he’d get really upset that we hurt the animal. And if we asked him to put his fire truck away, he’d angrily correct us that it wasn’t a truck, but a dog.
These little arguments about whether it was a truck or a dog lasted for a number of weeks. It turns out that trying to convince a four year old of an absolute truth is about as easy as convincing someone of your point of view on Facebook. Eventually though, I changed my tactic and started asking questions about his dog: Why does your dog have wheels? Have you ever seen another dog that bright red color? Do all dogs have ladders on their backs?
All of sudden, rather than arguing about whether it was a dog or a truck, we were having conversations about it and he was engaging instead of defensive. After a number of these questions and his responses, he eventually said to me one day, “Oh daddy, Eddie isn’t a real dog. It’s only a pretend dog.” It was only by accepting my son’s relative truth and engaging in humble conversation that led us collectively to the absolute truth of the situation. This is the same process that I believe will guide us in the years to come as we commit to the pursuit of truth together communally.
Instead of an attitude of, “I’m right and you should listen to me!”, we need to shift to an attitude of, “What if what I believe is true isn’t? Let me listen and ask more questions to make sure I’m not missing something.” When we immediately reject someone’s relative truth, we’re saying they aren’t capable of holding truth, which is part of the image of God in all of us. That posture change would make a huge difference as we commit to finding Absolute Truth and pursuing it together with human decency, dignity, and love at the forefront.
As psychologist James Marcia suggests, you have to have equal parts exploration and commitment to have a healthy identity. This same principle applies to our pursuit of truth. If we are all exploration (i.e., nothing is absolutely true), we will be lacking. Likewise, if we are all commitment (i.e., I’m right and I’m not going to consider the alternative), we will also be lacking.
John Perkins defined tolerance as “You believe what you believe, I’ll believe what I believe, but we won’t kill each other.” It’s that last part we have been missing. We should be able to hold our commitments while at the same time lovingly exploring together for the sake of growth and communal discovery. It is a return to this kind of discourse that will bring a deeper sense of unity to our immediate relationships, as well as to our nation.
