This Truth Remains

Before reading further, I want to be clear about why I am sharing this.

This is not an invitation to debate. It is not an attempt to convince, convert, or correct anyone. I am not writing this to argue theology or to challenge another person’s faith.

I am sharing this because I am asked these questions often, and there is a great deal of misunderstanding around what I believe and why. This is simply my attempt to articulate, through written word, what lies in my heart, shaped by my lived experience, my ancestry, and my faith.

This is not meant to sway anyone else or change another person’s path. If it opens the door to understanding, that is welcome. If it does not, that changes nothing for me.

I am not searching. I am not lost. I do not need saving. I stand firmly in my convictions, and that will not change based on agreement or disagreement.

This is not about certainty over others. It is about truth within myself, and the responsibility to live it honestly.

I walk the path of my ancestors.

That statement alone confuses some people. Others hear it as rebellion, rejection, or pride. It is none of those things. It is continuity.

My people had a way. They had an understanding of the world, of responsibility, of sacrifice, of honor, of consequence. That way was not born from abstraction. It was born from land, blood, hardship, seasons, and survival. It was lived, not theorized.

That way was abandoned by some. It was taken from others. In many cases, it was erased through conquest, fear, and forced replacement. I do not say that with bitterness. I say it as fact.

I was reconnected to that path not out of defiance, but out of recognition. Something in me remembered. Something in me aligned. And once that door opened, I could not pretend it had not.

I do not follow this path out of nostalgia. I follow it because it calls me to live with integrity, discipline, courage, and responsibility. It demands action, not performance. It demands alignment, not appearance.

That matters to me.

I believe in one Creator.

This is where many people expect a contradiction, but there is none. I do not believe in chaos as a ruling principle. I do not believe life is governed by randomness or accident.

I recognize chaos as a condition that exists, and I understand its presence. But I do not orient my life around it, and I do not submit to it. Chaos governs only when it is allowed to.

And I do not believe in randomness. I do not believe anything is coincidence. Just because meaning is not immediately visible does not mean it is absent.

I believe there is one source, one ordering principle, one reality beneath all things.

Where I differ is not in whether there is one God, but in how that God is known.

I believe the Creator reveals Himself in ways people can actually receive. Through culture. Through language. Through lineage. Through lived experience. Through symbols that resonate with the people they are given to.

I do not believe God waited for one moment in history to speak.

When I look at Christ, I do not see something foreign. I see something familiar.

I believe Christ embodied the Creator in a real and meaningful way. I do not see Him as false or separate from God. I respect Him. I honor what He represents. I recognize the depth of His teachings and the seriousness of His life.

But I do not worship Christ as my ancestral path.

Worship, to me, is relational. It is embodied. It is inherited and lived. I cannot step into a temple and worship outside my lineage, not out of disrespect, but out of fidelity.

And yet, I know Christ better now than I ever did before.

I know Him because I recognize in Him the same eternal truths my gods embody. Truth lived rather than claimed. Sacrifice rather than convenience. Responsibility rather than exemption. Courage rather than compliance.

That recognition does not diminish Christ for me. It deepens my understanding of Him.

I am often told that Christ is the only one who ever sacrificed himself for humanity. Within Christianity, I understand why that is believed, and I respect the meaning behind it.

What I cannot ignore is that the idea of sacrifice for the good of the world did not begin there.

In the traditions of my ancestors, sacrifice was not symbolic. It was costly. It was permanent. It demanded something real.

Odin sacrifices himself in pursuit of wisdom, suffering willingly so that humanity might gain understanding. Tyr sacrifices part of his own being to bind chaos and protect the world, knowing the cost before he acts.

When I look at Christ through that lens, I do not see competition. I see continuity. I see the same moral truth expressed through a different people, in a different language, at a different time.

This is why I do not accept the idea that belief alone is enough.

Faith without action is hollow. Words without embodiment are empty. A claim of righteousness without responsibility means nothing.

Christ overturned tables not because people believed the wrong things, but because they lived falsely. Because they spoke virtue and practiced convenience. Because they claimed holiness without bearing its weight.

That lesson matters more to me than doctrine ever could.

This is also why I do not fear hell, nor do I cling to a detailed image of heaven.

I do not need terror to live rightly. I do not need reward to act with integrity.

If salvation can be claimed at the last moment without a life of responsibility, then morality becomes irrelevant. And I refuse to believe that existence is that shallow.

I believe faith must be lived now. Responsibility matters now. The way one walks matters now.

The phrase the way, the truth, and the light has never meant blind allegiance to me. It has always meant a lived path, alignment with reality, and the willingness to illuminate rather than perform.

The way is how you walk.

The truth is how honestly you live.

The light is what you bring into the world through your actions.

That is what I strive to embody.

I do not claim perfection. I claim commitment.

I cannot tell you exactly what comes after this life. I do not paint pictures to comfort myself. The unknown does not frighten me. If anything, it demands more seriousness from me, not less.

I trust that if I live in alignment, if I act with integrity, if I bear responsibility willingly, then whatever comes next will be met honestly.

I am not here to convert anyone. I am not here to replace anyone’s faith with my own.

I am here to stand in continuity with my ancestors, to honor the truth wherever it appears, and to live a life that does not require fear to justify itself.

This path is mine.

It is not fragile. It does not need defending. It does not bend under pressure.

Whether it is understood or misunderstood changes nothing.

This truth remains.

And I will not abandon it.