Our task is not to shape Truth but to find it—to find him, as a weary pilgrim seeks a wellspring in a parched land. In Jesus Christ, we do not simply discover truth; we encounter the very source of life itself, the living water that quenches every thirst. When we have found him, our calling is to serve him with the reverence of one who stands in a sacred grove drinking from a holy well, knowing that in his presence, we encounter the fullness of God’s grace and the promise of salvation.

With all its noise, the world tries to divert our gaze, telling us that the great battles are waged in boardrooms, wars, and the clamoring for power and prestige. It blinds us to the deeper war that rages within the heart—a war not just of conscience but of eternal consequence. The Truth of Christ is not a concept to be debated or an idea to be molded to our liking. It is the living Christ, the Maker himself, who shapes us in the furnace of his love.

A long time ago, before the first rains or the first barley sprouted from the earth, the Maker walked on Temple Mountain. He formed a man from the clay of the earth and breathed life into his nostrils with a wind so invigorating it made the mud-man walk. This was Moorman, the first man, nestled into the wonder of creation, surrounded by swooping birds, four-legged creatures, and the good feeling that lived in his tummy. There was no fear in him, even when the harsh howls of the night ricocheted through the dark.

The Maker delighted with his creation but saw that it was not good for Moorman to be alone. So he took a rib from the man and fashioned the first woman, Moorwoman, in his own likeness. She, too, carried that good feeling in her belly, that deep contentment that comes from knowing one’s place in the Maker’s garden. Together, they lived in complete union with the Maker, with the freedom to eat from the Life Tree, the most intense of places where they could know blessed communion with God himself.

But there was another tree in the garden, the Knowing Tree, which was forbidden. The fruits of this tree were not meant for human hands; they contained insights meant for the Maker alone. To eat from this tree would bring death into the world; it would grant knowledge that was beyond human understanding, knowledge that would distort their vision of good and evil, tearing them from the right rhythm of God’s design.

Yet Wyrm-tongue, the ancient dragon, began to speak to Moorwoman, whispering doubts into her heart. He told her that the Maker was a power-hogger, that he didn’t want them to be like him, to know what he knew. Wyrm-tongue encouraged her to see everything around her differently, making her suspicious of the good feeling, the deep contentment she had always known. And so, in a moment of transgression, the First Two ate the forbidden fruit.

With that bite, the world changed. Where once their skin was as lovely as the bark of a tree, now it seemed something to be hidden. Concealment began, and with it, the first fracture in their communion with God. They hid from the Maker, ashamed and afraid, and the battle between light and darkness, between sin and love, began in their hearts.

But here, in this fallen state, is where the true wonder of Christ is revealed. The battle within us is not merely against our desires but against the forces of chaos that Wyrm-tongue champions. Christ is not just the remedy for our transgressions; he is the victor over them, the one who crushes the head of the dragon even as that ancient wyrm strikes at his heel.

In this war, Christ calls us not to retreat into the shadows of our guilt but to step into the light of his grace. The true battle is not found in fields or courtrooms but within the human soul. Think about it. What use is it to gain the whole world—wealth, power, even fleeting joys—if, in the process, we lose our own souls? What worth are the treasures of this world if they pull us away from the true Treasure that is Christ?

Remember the Maker’s words, “From dust you came, and to dust you shall return.” Yet, in Christ, we see this is not the end of the story. The dust from which we were formed is not our final destiny, for he, the true Moorman, was formed from the earth only to rise from it again, victorious over death. His resurrection is the promise that we, too, will rise, that the battle within us will one day end in victory.

This new life in Christ requires us to turn inward, become contemplative, seek out the Truth as Sigurd sought the dragon, and guard against the poisons that lie in wait.

Sigurd sought the treasure of Fafnir, a great wyrm whose very breath was poison, whose eyes glowed with malice. Sigurd, bold in spirit, set out to slay the beast because beneath its scaled hide lay a hoard of gold, riches beyond measure. And so, with a sword in hand, he crept upon the ancient dragon and dealt it a mortal blow.

But as the dragon lay dying, it spoke to Sigurd. It warned him that the true curse was not in the treasure itself but in the greed it stirred within the hearts of those who sought it. The treasure was tainted—not by magic, but by the darkness it awoke in those who desired it above all else. And so, though triumphant, Sigurd faced a new enemy—the seductive power of the gold that threatened to twist his soul.

This is a tale that tells a deeper truth. Slaying the dragon is not enough. The gold we gain twists our souls. Christ is the true treasure, the pearl of great price. In him is no curse, no darkness, but the light of life and the salvation of our souls. Yet, as Sigurd had to choose between the cursed gold and his soul, we too face a choice—whether to serve our desires, which lead to death, or to serve Christ, who leads us to eternal life.

In this war, this struggle to serve the light, we find the path to our redemption and the strength to stand firm in a world that seeks to lead us astray. This is the true war—the only war that matters—and the victory is already won in Christ.

So take heart. The struggle within us is not a sign of failure but of our struggle with the Truth himself. And remember, as the ancients knew, the greatest treasure is not found in a hoard of gold but in a heart transformed by the love of Christ, the good, beautiful, and living Truth.