Truth is terrifying in its power and in its beauty. Its perfection is so extreme, so out of place in a fallen world, that it is fearful to look upon.
We see it out of the sides of our eyes and know it is there, waiting, almost lurking, not because of its nature but because of our own. We fear change, we fear exposure, we fear to see ourselves in our broken state, and we know instinctively that truth is the instrument that will bring about change, exposure, sight in our lives. We fear the thought that we might be wrong, even in our ideas of what is right and what is wrong. We cling desperately to our self-determined notions of how the world should work, and we cannot risk looking away from our contrived vision of things, to see what we are missing. Because of our fear, we perceive Truth as dangerous.
And yet, if we will face it instead of trying to sidle past, if we will face Truth, we will see that it is not a sterile instrument of destruction. Truth is a man, like us. Broken, like us. On a cross. He is there for us, because of us, and He bears us no ill will. “Father, forgive them; for they know not what they do” (Luke 23:34). Far from it, He looks on us as we are meant to be, not as we are, and sees our potential, not our failures.
If we look into the face of this Truth, we will see ourselves reflected there in beauty that is not terrifying, but comforting; not destroying, but healing; not breaking, but making whole.