I’ve scrolled endlessly on Facebook as political season brings its normal discourse of words.
Social justice words.
Here’s a reminder that I’ve forgotten many times and will probably forget again: the Truth can swing His own sword.
I’ve played the angry defender many times. A few of you may have seen me hack through the weeds, dripping sweat, scared that if I didn’t say something the Truth would be naked. Bare. And weak.
My intentions were good. Usually our intentions are good.
But my friends, a scared truth teller never did anyone good.
In that garden scene when Truth was taken by men, Peter swung out of good intentions. He caught the edge, struck the man and thought himself brave.
But he forgot like we so often forget: Truth can swing His own sword.
I’m not pleading to stop saying true things.
I’m not saying bold is not brave.
I am saying that meek things are the blessed things.
I am saying that we don’t bear the weight of rescuing truth from it’s eventual cross.
Because that’s where the truth goes sometimes: to the cross.
And there, when all lights are dim and the dark things laugh, we are reminded that resurrection plants seeds in death.
Imagine if our brother Peter slaughtered the whole regiment, took back his King, and then went on to preach. The mission would have been lost – the purpose abandoned.
Often truth speaks loudest when it is naked, bare, and stands accused of things that He has not done.
So what does it mean to be brave when darkness surrounds the truth? What does it mean to be bold when truth is about to be stripped naked?
Maybe it means this, to not forget we are cabable of denying the Truth right after we cut off the liars ear.
Maybe it means humbly praying we would be ready to stand naked with the Truth, bare with the Truth, and silent with the Truth.
Maybe it means trusting that Truth can swing His own sword.