It can come in a fluffy-down-comforter wrapping so soft, so plush and gentle, that all you remember is the softness of that covering.
It can be delivered so harshly and with thorns of stinging words and venom that the only thing remaining is the bitterness of blood drawn.
Either way, truth is truth. So often we want to dismiss the message because of the messenger.
We shy away from parts of it that we don’t like and avoid plague-like messengers who feel compelled to always spew it without timing or filter. We want the soft-rounded corners and feather-bed-version of truth. We want the baby in the manger and not the Jesus at the money changer’s tables.
Statistics will show that Truth is what divides our generations and in our churches it’s even debatable – the Whole Truth, or a watered-down and palatable version? Your truth, or mine?
What’s true is always true because that’s the nature of it. If it’s subjective it’s irrelevant.
Truth can’t change with the times or the seasons or the mood of a nation. It can’t be twisted for convenience or served with so much sugar that it drowns out the sometimes bitter aftertaste. We need a little bitterness to see the Whole Truth because a bed of roses won’t get us anywhere.
I’m not saying the truth feels like freedom all the time. It will set you free, but often there is still the struggle left and the chains don’t always melt away, and sometimes the way to deliverance looks like death. Sometimes Truth seals your tomb because you don’t want to change.
But none of the scary parts of truth change the need for it.