It was not hard but rather easy standing on the glittering edge of Truth. “Of this thing, I am almost persuaded,” he gestured with an elusive wave of the hand. And with that unholy utterance, a heavy silence blanketed the thronging crowd. Just like that, the chasm between error and eternity widened its dark gaping mouth.
Yet, self-delusions are only illusions that become more elusive with each passing year. “What is Truth?” the tyrant cried while neurotically washing his blood-stained hands. But the Truth was a man standing tall before his gaze with thorns pressed against His brow. A God-man-king who refused to win His Kingdom with swords or mechanisms of man.
“Are you a king?” the petty tyrant sneered, to which the God-man-king replied with ease. “My kingdom is not of this world, and anyone belonging to Truth listens and obeys My voice.” The seed thudded against the soil, but some rock, some thorn, some unseen hand snatched. Little did the tyrant know how close to the warm glittering edge of Truth he stood that day.
A whisp of wind, the chirping of a phone, the struggle of a long day ever pulls our minds away. Away from thoughts that matter beyond the scope of this finite earthly existence. “There is no Truth but this one truth that there is no Truth.” They shout from ivory towers. They shrug and smirk at their own paradoxical claims knowing something isn’t quite right.
Yet, they stroll into the darkness without pausing to examine the glittering edge of Truth. There are fakes, and fake fakes, and fake fakes of fakes, but it does not dimmish the diamond’s gleam. Some follow Truth with doubts. Others follow lies with faith. “Which is better?” The prophets ask. To which the crowds respond, “We have no answer except to follow our feelings forward.”
Forward into the darkness, their feelings lead them into pits of despair formerly unknown. A sudden light appears between fanciful dreams in the eyes of a boy who has never known joy. “In seeking pleasure, we’ve only found pain. In seeking love, we’ve only found hate.” He cries. He looks to the stars for the first time in forever, and at that moment, he is not alone.
This boy hears the cosmic heartbeat and feels the breath of the God-man-king move across his skin. This is it! The moment we each will find before we die, an otherworldly encounter. The forlorn boy closes his eyes and cries, “Am I really standing on the glittering edge of Truth?” He was, and you will too, so when that moment comes, just know, eternity depends on what you do.
A relevant apostolic resource that covers biblical topics of interest, ministry, Christian living, and practical insights hosted by Ryan French. An extension of the popular blog Apostolic Voice (www.ryanafrench.com). Support this podcast: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/apostolicvoice/support
This original poem by Ryan was first featured at ryanafrench.com called The Glittering Edge of Truth. Enjoy this dramatic spoken adaptation.
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