In this world of all-inclusivism, deconstructionism, liberalism, ecumenism, moral and mental chaos, the exclusivity of Jesus Christ triumphs. It gives clarity to the mind. It gives peace to the heart. It is the beacon of light that stands alone, ever shining brightly to dispel the darkness of unbelief and to give hope to those who humble themselves and come to Christ. 

Today, in the marketplace of ideas, the word ‘truth’ has lost its meaning, purpose and relevance. Much of this is due to the rise of philosophical relativism and postmodernism. On the altar of postmodernism, all the transcendental and objective truths, slowly but surely, are being marginalized. ‘Truth’ has now been personalised. There seems to be no definitive meaning of the word ‘meaning’ and no definitive purpose to the word ‘purpose’. For many, life seems to be a meaningless accident in a universe that is lonely, cold and dark.
The gap between tangible truth and the philosophical view of truth seems to be ever-widening. As a result of that, our moral landscape is plagued by immorality, injustice, civil unrest and oppression. Nothing seems to irritate people more than the word ‘truth’. Their allergy to it is easily palpable. In this climate of all-inclusivity, Christians claiming to know the truth sounds obnoxious. We are now considered narrow-minded, religious bigots. Society at large treats us as a fringe group that is disillusioned.
But have you ever thought about why Christians assert such a bold claim that we know the truth? What could be the reason?  Let me try to answer this question in this article.
Exclusivity of the Truth
In John 14, the disciple Thomas said to Jesus “Lord, we do not know where you are going. How can we know the way?’. Just a few verses above, Jesus tells his disciples that he was going to the Father to prepare a place for them. Thomas was unsure about the destination that Jesus would end up at. So, his question was, to paraphrase,  like this, ‘Jesus, we don’t know where in the world you are going (destination), how can we expect us to know the way?’.
After spending a great deal of time with Jesus and having heard that he was going to the Father, it is astonishing that Thomas would ask such a question. However, in answering Thomas’ question, Jesus reiterates that He is the way, the truth and the life and no one can come to the Father except by him. In other words, Jesus tells Thomas that not only was he going to the Father (destination), but he is the only way to go to the Father. If Thomas had known Christ, he would have known the way to the Father too. Knowing and believing in Jesus Christ is the only way to be accepted by the Father. There is no other way. There is no other truth. There is no other who can give life. Only Jesus Christ.
Christ was the only one who came down from heaven and the Father (Jn. 16:28). He was the only one who lived a perfect and sinless life (Jn. 8:46). He was the only one who fulfilled the entirety of the law (Matt. 5:17-22). He was the only one who loved the Father with all his heart, mind and soul perfectly (Rom. 5:19, Jn. 4:34).
Read More
Related Posts:

I sometimes wonder if such experiences didn’t play a major role in my seeking something or someone in life that accepted me warts and all, loved me, and gave purpose to my individual life.  I’m here to say I believe such experiences prodded me to find such a one, such a person.  I met that person not for the first time—as I was already acquainted with him—but when I was 19 years old and received him into my life, heart, and spirit.  That Person was Jesus Christ who became my Lord and Savior.

A question recently posted on Facebook asked if you remember your most humiliating experience as a child.  It took me by surprise how fast two experiences came to mind.  Both took place in elementary school coming at the hands of adults—a teacher and principal.  Memories came to the fore; pain was felt immediately.  Those experiences weren’t forgotten but rather had scarred me and followed me through life.  They accounted for some of my most prominent and constant insecurities.
The first took place in third grade.  Coming from a poor family situation, I did not receive allowance money as other children received.  I did not have the freedom to buy candy or gum.  One day, a student who was friendly with me offered me a stick of gum.  I took it and unwrapped, it sticking it in my mouth.  The teacher espied me chewing gum and came to me, made me stand up, she walked me to the front of the class and made me stand there for what seemed an interminable amount of time with the gum on my nose.  I was humiliated.  When the class ended, I went to the restroom to remove the gum that had hardened on my nose.
The second experience occurred in sixth grade.  We were in the auditorium. Some boys grabbed the stage velvet curtains and leaped off the stage to the floor crying out like Tarzan’s hoarse bark, flying through the air on a jungle vine.  As a tomboy, I felt I could do whatever they were capable of doing.  I grabbed the curtain, cried out like Tarzan and leaped to the floor.  The principal came and caught us.  She scolded us and went on to say to me in front of all the students, “. . . but you, a girl!  I can’t believe you did it too.”  The curtain had torn. We were all told our parents would have to pay for the repair.  I cringed that I would have to report this to my parents who struggled financially.  I went to my class, sat in the back of the room and silently cried in humiliation.  I was eleven years old
Such experiences as a child lastingly impacted that child—in fact, any child.  The first experience is recognizable today as abusive action by a teacher against a child who normally never had gum or candy at school.  To stand in front of the class with gum on one’s nose until the end of class was abusive humiliation.  I later recognized how deeply it scarred me causing almost a self-hatred and sense of rejection.
The second experience represented a childish prank of a child doing something foolish to prove herself.  The principal’s rebuke was valid, but the action of singling out one child due to her gender put her in a more vulnerable position.  Later as I stood waiting on a corner to cross the street, my brother in an upper grade came behind me and said: “I heard what you did.  Boy!  Are you ever going to get it when you get home”!  I trembled crossing the street fearing what was in store for me.  My mother scolded me and said, “Wait until your father comes home.”  I did not receive a spanking but rather a strong rebuke and “How could you do that?”  Both parents discouraged my tomboy ways, as they wanted their daughter to be all-girl. We waited with dread for how much the bill would be to repair the curtain.  When it came, my parents paid it immediately.  Since I didn’t receive an allowance, I couldn’t pay them back.
Why am I sharing this story?  It’s because children are very fragile emotionally and mentally.  Discipline can cross a line that goes beyond correction to permanently scarring them.  Back then, educators probably didn’t study child psychology.  Some children who experience abuse become abusers.  Others become dysfunctional.  All experience brokenness to some extent.  Those scars remain hidden or latent, but they do remain; and to think more than seventy years later they still cause pain reveals how powerful they are in a child’s life.
A second reason for sharing this story is a reminder to me and, I hope to others, to never forget children are fragile and vulnerable.  Discipline with love, sensitivity, and limits.  It’s not just actions that matter, but words also matter.
Lastly—but not least—remember and give thanks to God who can enable us to be healed even if scars remain and to forgive those who either abused or humiliated us at any time in life, not just as children.
I sometimes wonder if such experiences didn’t play a major role in my seeking something or someone in life that accepted me warts and all, loved me, and gave purpose to my individual life.  I’m here to say I believe such experiences prodded me to find such a one, such a person.  I met that person not for the first time—as I was already acquainted with him—but when I was 19 years old and received him into my life, heart, and spirit.  That Person was Jesus Christ who became my Lord and Savior, who brought pardon and redemption, who brought real purpose and even confidence to my life, and has steadfastly been faithful to me despite moments of unfaithfulness to Him.  I didn’t seek Him; He sought me.  As the African American Spiritual articulately reveals, “He never failed me yet.”   I am nothing more than a debtor to God’s grace through Jesus Christ.
Helen Louise Herndon is a member of Central Presbyterian Church (EPC) in St. Louis, Missouri. She is freelance writer and served as a missionary to the Arab/Muslim world in France and North Africa.

There is such comfort in understanding that Jesus knows what you are going through. He sees it all, so understands the facts of it. But he also knows what it is like to face the most grievous circumstances, to endure the greatest sorrows, to face the fiercest temptations. Which means that as you face the trials, difficulties, and even traumas of life, you can remember and you must believe—Jesus knows and Jesus cares.

We are weak creatures—little, frail, and lacking in wisdom and knowledge. But all is not lost because the Bible assures us that God is fully aware of our weaknesses and, even better, cares about them. As the author of Hebrews says, “We do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses.”
What does it mean that we have weaknesses? Certainly it means that we are morally weak, that we are prone to sin and that we face constant temptations to rebel against God. But it means more than that. It means that we are physically weak, embodied beings who get sick and get tired, who are prone to illness and who eventually die. It means that we are intellectually weak, limited in our understanding and, therefore, in our ability to make sense of circumstances and make good decisions. It means that we are emotionally weak, that our minds and hearts easily grow weary and downcast, and are sometimes even diseased and afflicted. All this and much more.
And then all of these weaknesses accompany us through the toughest of circumstances. We most certainly do experience many great joys in this life, but also many deep sorrows. We face bodily diseases and mental traumas, we face relational discord and friendships that are cut off by death. We have children who disobey and spouses who betray, we face the fires of persecution and the consequences of our own poor decisions.
And as if all this was not already hard enough, every sorrow, and every pain, and every trial brings with it the temptation to sin. It is so often when we are at our weakest that temptations are strongest, when we are most broken that sin promises to make us whole. It is right then that the world entices us, the flesh ensnares us, the devil incites us. Our enemies don’t fight fair. We can never for a moment let down our guard.
We are so weak. Life is so hard. Our enemies are so vicious. But God is so good. For it’s to weak people, not strong or self-sufficient people, that the Bible assures us that Jesus knows.
Read More
Related Posts: