There’s at least not that I know to be true deep down in my bones. My mind contains a lot of supposed information. There are a lot of facts in my head. A lot of theology and philosophy, But a lot less of the kind of knowing that I might really qualify as faith. Living in your head your whole life, as it turns out, isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. Faith comes from somewhere deeper.

But there is one thing I really do know—in the deepest way I can know anything—and that is that Jesus instigates surprising reversals:

His plans do not line up with my calendar. His pace does not keep time with my sense of rhythm. His goals don’t seem to have very clear benchmarks or firm deadlines. His activity seems to move at a snail’s pace. His accomplishments are barely even perceptible, like tiny seeds in the dirt or yeast in a batch of dough.

Like the disciples, I ask questions like, “What does he mean by ‘a little while’?” A little while to him can be a long, long, long while for me. It often seems like short-term promises require long-term waiting.

God is love, and love is generous. Generosity is in the Divine DNA. The Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit share all things. No secrets. No hoarding. No self-protection. No greed. No “what’s mine is mine.”

This divine generosity extends beyond the Trinity toward us mere mortals. What belongs to the Father belongs also to the Son, and what belongs to the Son is passed on to the children of God.

It follows, then, that such generosity should continue beyond God’s children. Generosity has a momentum all its own. In our rebirth through the Spirit, the Divine DNA has been passed on to us, but does not stop with us.

Is all the truth that the Spirit will guide you into. The truth can be a heavy burden, a difficult pill to swallow. Because the more we come to understand about the reality of things, the more we have to change.

Our minds can only comprehend so much information. Our souls can only fathom so much beauty. Our egos can only stand so much confrontation.

In one of Jesus’ favorite metaphors. God as Judge is an image many people are familiar with. The unfortunate thing is that most of us then jump straight to imagining ourselves as the accused who is on trial.

But we forget one of Jesus’ key courtroom images: the Advocate. His own Spirit who stands as the star witness in defense of his disciples, whom he aims to defend and justify as if his own life depends on it. Because it does. Because it did on the Cross.

Loss to gain. Defeat to victory. Weeping to joy. Failure to success. Falling to rising. Death to life.

This is the divine pattern of maturity, growth, and progress. Try though we may, we cannot avoid it or reverse it. We may attempt to of course, but there will be no real forward momentum, only a mired existence in the status quo. Not at all the eternal life in God’s kingdom that Jesus promised.

That you’re not ready to hear. You’re not able to bear it, or believe it, or heed it. Not quite yet. I know that hurts your ego, and perhaps that’s a secondary purpose in his silence. His silence is not aloofness, but patience and kindness. He knows something you don’t, and that might irritate you. But knowledge we are not prepared for can be more hurtful than helpful. This is the story of the Fall in the Garden.

But he’s also telling you something now that he couldn’t tell you before. You weren’t ready to hear it back then, but you’re ready now. The timing wasn’t right then, but it’s right now. Times have changed and you’ve grown up and circumstances have arisen such that he’s ready to share.

Is to be avoided at all cost. Don’t make a fuss. Protect the status quo. Go along to get along. Live and let live. I’m ok, you’re ok.

So we tell ourselves—most often silently, covertly, in the hidden places of our subconscious. This is all about survival and self-protection, but in the extreme can end up inviting the very dangers we seek to avoid.

At the opposite end of the spectrum, of course, lies equal danger: Ruffling feathers for the sake of ruffling feathers. Challenging norms or calling out systems simply for the sake of battle. Being contrary for the thrill of being novel or unique.

Is a divine activity. It’s what Jesus did. It’s what he sent the Spirit to do. It’s what disciples do.

Giving testimony is simply telling the truth. The truth of what you saw, what you heard, what you tasted, touched and smelled. The honest, unembellished description of your experience.

Sometimes, no matter what you do, no matter how impeccable your character is, no matter how much goodness you bring into the world, no matter how kind you are, no matter how much love you extend, no matter how much of your own being you selflessly give for the sake of others, someone may still hate you.

Maybe hate is too hyperbolic of a word. They’ll dislike you. Disregard you. Dismiss you. Overlook you. Ignore you. Miss you completely. Push you aside. Give you the cold shoulder. Give you the finger. Give you a piece of their mind. Or something other than the warm acceptance you had hoped for and maybe even deserved.

Heck, you could be Jesus Christ himself walking among them and get the same response. In fact, it’s the response he did receive, to a horribly violent end.