What Is Truth? And Should We Care?

Truth is one of those words, like humility and virtue, that has fallen by the wayside. To the extent you hear any talk about truth these days, it tends to fall into one of two lines of thought:

1. Everything is relative. In our gloriously diverse, post-Christian society, who are we to judge others’ opinions of reality? Can we really say there’s a right or wrong? If not, doesn’t that make talk of “truth” obsolete? There’s so much to be said in favor of this approach: it can lead to tolerance, listening, mutual respect, and authentic dialogue.

And yet the problem with “there’s no right or wrong” is that ultimately it’s, um, well, wrong.

Consider the myriad of sincere, intelligent Christians in ages past who believed that the Bible condoned slavery, or anti-Semitism, or the mistreatment of women. The consensus in today’s Christendom (let alone the secular world) would call these interpretations wrong. That opens the door for an unsettling doubt: are there beliefs today that we take for granted but future generations will see as clearly wrong?

And if the answer is yes, wouldn’t that make the pursuit of truth—whatever that is—worthwhile?

2. I have the truth. We’ve all seen how much danger lies in claims to exclusive truth. If we have the truth, why engage in dialogue with those who disagree? Why not, rather, do anything we can to convince them of our belief? This so often devolves into many of the conflicts that plague our world today, from debased dialogue and insensitivity to outright violence.

But is there another way to think about truth?

I think there is, and perhaps the clearest exposition is in the Gospel of John. On the face of it, the gospel’s pages include both lines of thought we just explored. In the relativist corner, Pontius Pilate looks Jesus in the eye during his trial and dismissively asks, “What is truth?” (John 18:38). For the absolutist view, look at Jesus’ own saying: “If you follow my word, you are truly my disciples, and you shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free” (John 8:31-32).

Now look more closely. I wonder whether, in both stories, the gospel writer is trying to make a point. Pilate asks the question “What is truth?” and receives no answer—because he’s looking at it. Jesus speaks of the truth, not as a set of assertions, but as his word and indeed (John 14:6) as himself.

In both cases, we are presented with truth as a person.

Here’s the rub. People take a lifetime to get to know. People have myriad facets, sometimes paradoxical. If truth is like this too, the pursuit of truth becomes so much more than a quest for the right viewpoint or the correct proposition. Rather, it involves both an appreciation for the unfathomable complexity of truth and an unrelenting curiosity to seek it—no matter how inconvenient it may be.

In this view, truth is not to be mastered, but to be treated with reverence. We pursue it not with the goal of learning The Truth, but with the humility of knowing we can’t. We become like the blind men with the elephant: each grasping a small slice of the truth, yet needing one another to appreciate it more deeply.

A pursuit of truth that leads to humility, reverence, and interdependence of neighbors? Just imagine the good fruit that could bear.