Absolute Truths

What are the absolute truths of our lives? Of our existence?

How much of what we confidently proclaim is actually known, and how much is speculation dressed up as certainty? Politics, the economy, parenting, morality, success, failure—the subjects change, but the pattern remains the same. We form opinions, defend positions, and often speak as though we possess answers that are, at best, educated guesses.

Years ago, I read Byron Katie's remarkable book, Loving What Is. In it, she introduces a simple but profound inquiry she calls The Work. When a troubling thought arises, she asks:

• Is it true?

• Can you absolutely know it's true?

• How do you react when you believe that thought?

• Who would you be without that thought?

At first glance, the questions seem almost too simple. But if we're honest, they expose how little certainty we actually possess. We discover that many of the beliefs we cling to most tightly are assumptions, interpretations, or fears masquerading as facts.

My greatest takeaway was this: we know far less than we think we do.

Yet we spend much of our lives chasing certainty. We want guarantees. We want control. We want assurance that things will unfold according to our plans. But life has a way of humbling us. The future remains unwritten, people remain unpredictable, and circumstances can change in an instant.

Over time, I've developed my own list of what I consider absolute truths—not truths of the mind, but truths of the heart.

I love my wife.

I love my daughters.

I love my dog.

I care about my friends.

I ache for those who are walking alongside aging parents, sitting at hospital bedsides, or saying difficult goodbyes.

I have compassion for those struggling with alcoholism and addiction because I know something of that darkness myself. If I can hold up even a small lantern of God's mercy for someone finding their way through the night, then I want to do that.

These things feel true regardless of circumstance. They don't depend on politics, markets, social trends, or public opinion. They are anchored in something deeper.

And perhaps the deepest truth I've found is this:

Love matters.

Not sentimentality. Not agreement. Not approval. Love.

The willingness to care for another person. To forgive. To serve. To show up when it would be easier not to.

The older I get, the less interested I am in being right and the more interested I am in being loving.

The world encourages us to become experts on everything. God often asks us to become servants instead.

So when I look for certainty, I find very little. But when I look for what endures, I find love. I find compassion. I find service. I find grace.

And perhaps that is enough.

As Paul wrote:

"And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love."

— 1 Corinthians 13:13

Of all the things I think I know, that may be the closest thing to an absolute truth.