Pilate asked Jesus this question in John 18:38, “What is truth?”—but Jesus did not give a definition. Instead, he had already told his followers, “I am the way, and the truth, and the life.” (John 14:6). Truth, then, is not something we grasp but something we walk with. Not a static answer, but a living presence.

For many of us, Christianity was introduced not as an invitation into divine trust but as a system of external authority. We were told that our hearts were deceitful, our desires dangerous, our own reasoning suspect.

So much of the spiritual life is framed as a journey of becoming—becoming good enough, becoming enlightened, becoming worthy. But what if the spiritual life is not about becoming, but about remembering? What if our deepest calling is not to attain something outside of ourselves, but to wake up to what has always been true?

What if sin is not just about breaking rules but about missing something deeper—missing the truth of who we are, missing the reality of God’s love, missing the mark in a way that leaves us disconnected, disoriented, and wandering?

The incarnation is not merely about God once becoming human— it is about the divine life continually being born in us. And that leads us to the real question: How do we allow Christ to dwell within us?

We often think of resurrection as something that happens because death demands it. But what if resurrection isn't just a response to death? What if it's something greater drawing us forward?

What if our faith is actually not about achieving moral perfection, believing the right things, and defending it at all costs, but what if our faith is meant to be about union with God?