We live in a world that craves quick answers and clear-cut certainty. But what if truth doesn’t work that way? What if the truth God wants to give us is more like a journey than a destination—something that unfolds slowly, like the sky brightening before sunrise?

A therapist once shared a story about a man in his forties who came to her with anxiety and relationship struggles. As he opened up about his childhood, she began to recognize signs of deeper trauma. But she didn’t name it right away. Not because she didn’t know, and not because she didn’t care—but because she understood that naming something too soon can actually shut a person down.

So she waited. She listened. She asked gentle questions and helped him build trust and emotional tools. Eventually—months into their work—she said, “I think what you experienced was emotional neglect. That’s trauma, too.” And he was ready to hear it. Not as a diagnosis or label, but as a doorway to healing.

That’s often how God works with us.

In John’s Gospel, Jesus says to his disciples, “I still have many things to say to you, but you cannot bear them now.” Some truths are too heavy—or maybe too holy—for us to receive all at once. And so the Holy Spirit walks with us, unfolding wisdom little by little, at the pace of love.

In the Christian life, truth isn’t just a concept. It’s a Person. Jesus said, “I am the way, the truth, and the life.” That means we come to know truth not by mastering information, but by walking in relationship with Christ. Over time, as we follow Jesus, more becomes clear.

This is especially true when we think about big, beautiful mysteries—like the Trinity. We sing about it, meditate on it, and try to explain it. But we never quite pin it down. And maybe that’s the point. The mystery keeps us humble. It reminds us that faith isn’t about having all the answers—it’s about trusting the One who does.

Growth in truth doesn’t happen in a straight line. It’s more like a spiral that moves forward in the sacred rhythms of prayer, reflection, and action. We meditate on scripture with other believers and pray about what we hear God saying to us. Then we try to live what we’ve learned in our daily lives. We stumble and wrestle with challenges along the way, which leads to fresh insights and new questions. We return to prayer and scripture, and the process begins again. This is how wisdom takes root.

But here’s the thing: humility is essential. If truth is a person, and if that person is Jesus, then we need to approach him not with pride, but with openness. We need to admit that we don’t have it all figured out. That we’re still learning. Still listening.

This kind of humility flies in the face of the certainty our culture often demands. Especially in religious spaces, we’re sometimes told that real faith means having all the right answers. But that’s not faith—that’s fear disguised as confidence. And often, it’s rooted in the need to stay in control.

Real faith invites us to trust God in the unknowing. To say, “Lord, I don’t fully understand—but I know you are good, and I know you are with me.”

And here’s something else we need to remember: we don’t walk this journey alone.

Truth is always mediated—first through Jesus, and second through our friends in the Church. The New Testament never imagines a lone Christian off on their own. We were made for each other. Truth takes root in community.

That’s hard in a culture that idolizes individualism. But Christian truth invites us to ask deeper questions: Does this reflect the way of Jesus? Who is walking with me? Who helps me hear God’s voice?

We need each other. We grow in truth through shared prayer, scripture, worship, the sacraments, service, encouragement, and even correction. When God speaks, it’s often through the voice of a friend, a small group, or a community that knows us and loves us.

So if you’re serious about growing in truth—if you’re longing for a deeper, more grounded life in Christ—here are a few next steps:

  • Commit to a church family. Not just for convenience, but for covenant. A place where you show up—and grow up—through joy and hardship.
  • Go deeper than Sunday morning. Join a Bible study, a small group, or a ministry team where you can build real friendships and be known.
  • Practice spiritual disciplines together. Don’t just read scripture or pray alone—do it in community. That’s how truth takes root.

Of course, before we do any of this, we have to start with Jesus. He is the way, the truth, and the life. You don’t need to have everything figured out. If you feel something stirring in you, a gentle nudge to follow Jesus, don’t ignore it. Say yes. And when you do, truth will unfold, understanding will deepen, and step by step, you’ll be transformed.

This message is especially urgent for men and fathers. Our culture teaches men to go it alone—to be strong, silent, and self-sufficient. But that script isolates us. It cuts us off from the very relationships through which God wants to guide and bless our lives.

Men, let’s be honest about our need. Our need for grace. Our need for Christ. Our need for Christian brothers who will walk with us, pray for us, challenge us, and help us grow. It may mean rearranging our priorities. It may cost us time and comfort. But what we gain in return—truth, transformation, and a truly good life—is worth everything.

This is the journey Jesus offers. It’s not always quick. It’s not always easy. But it’s real. It’s good. And it’s yours—if you’re willing to say yes.