Truth Doesn’t Take Turns
Reality is not up for negotiation
We’ve all had to stare at the “coexist” sticker on the back bumper of a car that’s going just a little bit too slow on the freeway.
Those stickers first appeared in the U.S. in the early 2000s, partly in response to the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan after 9/11. The idea was simple: people of various beliefs can live together in peace. However, whether or not that was the original intent doesn’t matter—the effect was that it quickly became a symbol of the postmodern age.
Our nation has always operated on some premise of pluralism. The separation of church and state, after all, was meant to keep the state out of the church—not the other way around, as many assume. But in the postmodern age, pluralism took a nose dive into relativism and subjectivism and the “coexist” sticker quickly became just one symptom out of many.
All religions suddenly became equally up for grabs. Alongside the sticker emerged a multitude of other illustrations such as:
Two people stand over a number on the ground. One sees a 6, the other a 9.
Several blind men try to describe an elephant. One grabs the trunk and says it feels like a snake. Another holds a leg and says it’s like a tree.
Both of these illustrations try to claim that religions are simply different perspectives of looking at the same reality, and therefore one cannot say with confidence that his has more validity than the other.
The refutation of these is easy and has already been beaten to death. Their premise presupposes the existence of a unified reality that somehow the person making these claims can see. By claiming that all men are blindfolded, the one making the claim is already assuming that he is the only one who sees. It’s claim of certainty that tries to accuse everyone else of uncertainty. The argument collapses on itself and needs not much more investigation.
However, the problem is that post-modernism hasn’t stopped at tolerance. If we accept the premises of total relativism, people won’t just give up on truth—they’ll grow to hate it. Truth becomes nothing more than a bargaining chip, defined by whoever has power.
From a Christian perspective, truth is steady and reliable. For example, the uniformity of nature means the laws that govern the world today will govern it tomorrow. Good and evil remain the same in America as in Iceland. And whether or not anyone is around to hear the tree fall, 2+2 will still equal 4.
The alternative on the other hand, always boils down to a power struggle. If truth is not rooted in a stable reality outside of subjectivism and personal preferences, then the consequence is that it is a social construct determined by who is in charge at the time. This is primarily why Marx believed that Christianity was the “opiate of the masses”, and this is also why many believe today that their truth can only be established by the removal of those who are in power.
Like a child who loses patience waiting for the swing, they don’t appeal to dialogue—they appeal to force.
Christians can buy into this without realizing it. Words like “minority” and “oppressed” tug at our heartstrings, even when they no longer reflect demographics so much as a narrative of “voicelessness.” And because Christians are often compassionate, we feel an instinct to side with the “powerless,” sometimes without thinking carefully about what’s being assumed.
But my hope is that the saints of Christ will be wiser in the public square, and especially behind the pulpit. Truth is not something to be bartered. If you’re tempted to give up your preaching slot to someone because they claim a “special insight,” think twice. If you feel bad that preaching the whole counsel of God’s Word doesn’t highlight other “truths,” don’t.
Far from being oppressive, truth rooted in God’s Word is liberating. It grounds us in a reality that cannot be shaken by politics, culture, or power struggles. It frees us from the endless bargaining of a world that treats truth like a currency.
We do not give people “turns” at truth, because that’s simply not how truth works. The pulpit belongs to Christ, and His Word does not take shifts.