In our previous discussion, we spoke about how Jesus is the way, the truth, and the life—and how no one comes to the Father except through Him (John 14:6).
We touched on what His way is, and what is the truth. This is where it often becomes complicated—not because the truth itself is complicated, but because truth, by its very nature, is something formless that must descend into form.
Truth is beyond words. God is beyond words.
Words are never the thing itself—they are only symbols that point to something greater.
This is why it’s difficult to speak about truth or define God. The moment we use words, we reduce the formless into a form. We create concepts, categories, and systems, but none of them can fully contain the reality they point to.
Let’s borrow a simple analogy from the Hindu tradition to make this clear: the story of the blind men and the elephant.
Each man feels a different part of the elephant—one the trunk, one the leg, one the ear—and each insists he knows what the elephant is.
They’re all partly right, but none of them sees the full picture.
This is the human condition. We each grasp only a part of the truth. We think we see clearly, but we don’t see the full reality.
The Scriptures Testify to Me
When Yeshua says, “You search the Scriptures because you think that in them you have eternal life, but they testify about Me, yet you refuse to come to Me” (John 5:39), He is making a profound claim.
The Scriptures themselves are not the truth—they point to the truth.
Yeshua is saying, “I am the embodiment of that truth.”
The “Me” He refers to is not just a man or a few words—it is a way of being. It is the attributes of God in flesh, and Yeshua is the incarnation of that nature.
Yeshua’s way is not about saying the right words or having the right theology. It is about selfless love—the death of selfish interest, the end of ego, and the surrender of self-will for the good of others. This is the meaning of the cross.
So what is truth?
Truth is not just the opposite of a lie. Truth, in a universal sense, is goodness, compassion, kindness, love.
The Logos and the Nature of God
This is why the idea of the Logos in the Gospel of John is so important.
(Heraclitus pictured above)
In Greek philosophy, Logos means word, reason, logic, or principle. But it’s more than just a word—it represents the creative principle of the universe, the rational force or divine intelligence that gives order and meaning to all things.
To the ancient Greeks, the Logos was the source of all life, the reason behind everything.
John 1:1 says:
“In the beginning was the Word (Logos), and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.”
This is where early Christians, influenced by the Greek world, connected the Logos with Yeshua.
John is making a profound statement: Yeshua is not just a man, not just a prophet, but the very Logos itself—the creative force, the wisdom, the mind of God that holds the universe together—made flesh.
This ties directly to the Hebrew idea of the Word of God as the active power through which God creates and sustains the world, as seen in the Psalms:
“By the word of the Lord the heavens were made, and by the breath of His mouth all their host.” (Psalm 33:6)
So when Yeshua says, “I am the way, the truth, and the life,” He is not claiming to be one of many teachers—He is identifying Himself as the ultimate, universal truth that all cultures and religions have tried to express in their own way.
Yeshua is the Logos—God’s own mind, will, and creative power in human form.
But this is not unique to Christianity.
In Vedanta, it’s called Om—the primal sound of the universe.
In Taoism, it’s called the Tao—the Way beyond words.
In Judaism, it’s the Ruach—the Breath of God.
In Sufism, it’s the Haqiqa—the ultimate Reality behind all forms.
These traditions all point to the same idea:
God is beyond words, beyond concepts, beyond doctrines. But when this formless Reality takes on form, it expresses itself through love, goodness, and truth.
Yeshua is saying:
“The Scriptures, the doctrines, the religions—they all point to Me, because I embody the nature of God. I am the Logos, the Word made flesh.”
If we miss this, we fall into legalism—thinking truth is a set of words, rules, or beliefs.
But truth is not one religious system. It is not a doctrine. It is a way of being, manifested in Yeshua.
Yeshua is the truth—beyond words, beyond dogma, beyond religion.
One God, Many Names
All cultures have different names for the same reality we call God.
In one tradition, it’s God.
In another, it’s Brahman.
In another, it’s Tao.
In another, it’s Allah.
Yet the attributes of God are remarkably similar across traditions: goodness, love, compassion, truth, wisdom.
Where we in the West say, “God is all good,” we create an opposite called Satan. But in other cultures, they don’t split reality like that.
They say God has both attributes: creation and destruction, form and formlessness, mercy and justice.
This is where the legalistic mind creates problems. It says:
“My way of seeing is right. Everyone else is wrong.”
But to stop all arguments, we must stop reading texts with legalistic minds.
We must enter into direct experience.
Taste and see that the Lord is good.
When we have a direct experience of reality, we will know:
We have no enemy.
We will stop the petty arguments. We will understand the point of life.
We will realize that God is not only in the saint and the sinner, but equally in the great elephant and the tiny ant.
All people are one.
But this can only be known through direct experience—and the experience of God can only be had by the destruction of our ego, or flesh.
The Role of Spiritual Practice
This is where spiritual practice comes in.
We are like a garden overrun by weeds.
A house on a hill, meant to be a place of light and shelter—but it’s covered in weeds, infested with pests, and the rooms are dark and filthy.
Spiritual practice is how we clean the house.
Why do we need to clean it? Because the light of God—the truth—is already within us.
Every human being carries the same spirit of God within.
The reason we don’t see it, feel it, or express it is not because we lack it, but because we are buried under ignorance.
Ignorance comes from desires—desires rooted in self-interest.
Desire says, “I want for me.”
Desire clouds the mind. It creates distractions, attachments, and fears.
As long as desire dominates us, the light of wisdom stays hidden.
Spiritual practice purifies us.
It removes the weeds of selfishness.
It cleans the house so that the light can shine through.
It is not abstract. It is a daily, practical process.
Serving others weakens selfishness.
Prayer refocuses the heart on God.
Reading scripture feeds the mind with higher truths.
Meditation silences the noise of the world.
Fasting and discipline break attachment to pleasure.
These practices are tools to remove what blocks the truth from shining forth.
Purity is the goal—not only as an ideal or moral badge, but as the condition that allows us to see reality clearly.
As Yeshua said:
“Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God.” (Matthew 5:8)
We must become clean. We must become pure.
Then we will see God.
Then we will see the truth beyond words.
You write with sincerity—and I want to honor that. But sincerity is not the same as truth. What you’ve offered here is beautiful in tone, but it carries a theology that cannot bear the weight of the Cross. It feels like peace, but what it quietly removes is the Person who alone brings peace.
You claim truth is beyond words. But the Word became flesh. You say Yeshua is the Logos—but then you place Him alongside Om, Tao, and Brahman, as though His wounds were interchangeable with symbols. You say all names point to the same God. But Christ named Himself—and He named sin. He didn’t dissolve the ego. He carried it to death.
You say we must clean the house to reveal the light already within. But the Gospel I know doesn’t teach that we uncover salvation. It teaches that we receive it, because Someone died to give it.
So I offer this not as a correction, but as a plea: that you may one day meet the Christ who is not felt into being, but revealed in blood and mercy. Not an archetype. Not a cosmic current. But the crucified and risen Son of God.
Not for integration. But for redemption.
If you ever want to talk more—about why I believe this, or what I’ve come to carry—I’m here. Not to argue. But to witness.
Because not all presence is communion.
And not all peace leads home.
But Christ does.