I have a novel going all the time. My goal is to read one novel per month. Typically I far exceed that goal. This reading has no eternal value. This being said, it doesn’t mean you don’t pick up a nugget here and there.
The current novel I am reading has as the main character Alex Cross. Cross is a Washington DC Detective who also holds a PHD in psychology. He investigates pretty gristly crimes. Many of these crimes are carried out by real psychos.
Cross’ wife was murdered. Her loss has left him with a daughter, Jannie, son, Damon, and his grandmother, Nana-Mama.
He has gotten engaged. His fiancee goes missing. Her missing turns out to be a kidnapping. Cross believes it is tied to his investigation into the serial killer he has dubbed the Weasel.
His daughter, Jannie, wants to know if Christine (his fiancee) is dead. She says to her dad, “Please tell the true truth, though, I want to know.”
I think many struggle with the “true truth.” We prefer to give a varnished truth. We want to keep from hurting other’s feelings. We want to provide a sterilized ‘kinda truth.’ We prefer palatable truth.
Unfortunately “true truth’ doesn’t work that way. Real truth can offend. It can cause harm. It can disturb the one who hears it. In some cases it can hurt.
So desirous of having a comfortable truth we sometimes create our own. Our truth fits us. It is something that never convicts, it simply confirms our definitions of truth. We are never wrong. We are simply living our truth.
I heard someone say that we are entitled to our own opinion, but not to our own truth. True truth is not malleable. It is consistent, unchanging, transferable, and applicable.
When we hear the true truth we may not like it, but we can count on it. It is only in hearing and embracing true truth that we can find confidence that will extend over time and circumstances.