Various factors, including digital immersion, scepticism toward traditional institutions, and a strong emphasis on personal authenticity, shape this generation's perception of truth.

A significant portion of Gen Z embraces a relativistic view of truth. Research indicates that 63% of Gen Z individuals believe that what is morally right or wrong depends on individual beliefs, and 60% think that moral standards change over time based on society.  This perspective departs from absolute moral frameworks, favouring a more individualised approach to ethics and truth.​

Gen Z tends to trust peer networks and influencers more than traditional institutions. For instance, 58% of Gen Z respondents consider social media posts from friends to be as trustworthy as established journalism. This shift indicates a preference for decentralised sources of information and a scepticism toward conventional authority figures.​ 

Growing up in the digital age, Gen Z is adept at navigating a fragmented and often contradictory information ecosystem. They employ a "magpie" approach, curating their understanding of the world from diverse sources. While this allows for creativity and self-expression, it also raises questions about the coherence and reliability of their constructed truths. ​

Authenticity is paramount for Gen Z. The slang term "Keep it 100" encapsulates their desire for honesty and genuineness in all situations.  This emphasis on being true to oneself underscores their broader approach to truth as deeply personal and expressive.​ 

Despite a trend toward moral relativism, a notable segment of Gen Z is engaging with spiritual practices. For example, 21% of surveyed Gen Z adults reported increased Bible reading in 2024.  This suggests a search for meaning and truth beyond secular frameworks, even as traditional religious institutions face scepticism.​  

One of my favourite philosophers, Dr Peter Kreeft, the 87-year-old Professor, who wrote more than 70 books, of Boston University, defines truth as:

“Truth is what is. It is reality. It is what corresponds to the real world.”
– Peter Kreeft, A Refutation of Moral Relativism

This reflects the classical correspondence theory of truth, rooted in Aristotle and Aquinas. Truth is not a matter of opinion, feeling, or consensus. It exists outside of us. It is not “my truth” or “your truth,” but the truth.

“Truth is not invented; it is discovered. We do not make truth. We recognise it.”

A story for those who still seek...

Let me tell you a story about a young boy named Theo. His name meant “God-seeker,” though he didn’t know it yet. He was a curious soul who asked the questions most grown-ups try to avoid.

“Why do people fight over what’s right? Why do rules change? Why do grown-ups lie? What is real? What is true?”

He lived in a village between the Forest of Feeling and the Mountains of Opinion, where everyone seemed to have an answer — but no one seemed to agree. The village square had four loud voices on four corners, each passionately sure of their truth, but they contradicted each other.

So one morning, Theo tied his dusty shoes, packed a satchel with bread and a notebook, and stepped onto the winding road. “I’m going to find the Truth,” he said aloud to no one in particular, and the birds tilted their heads as if curious. 

His first stop was the Village of Mirrors. A beautiful place, if you like glitter more than gold. Everything sparkled, reflections danced in every window, and everyone wore masks — not to hide, they said, but to “express themselves.”

The people greeted him warmly, assuring him that the truth is personal. “Truth,” they said with sweet smiles, “is whatever you feel it to be. Follow your heart. Create your truth.”

At first, Theo found it freeing. No rules, no guilt — just vibes. But then he noticed something strange: people hurting each other, cheating, slandering — and no one said anything. When he questioned it, someone shrugged, “That’s their truth.”

He looked into one of the many mirrors, and for a moment, he couldn’t even recognise himself. Something inside whispered, “Freedom without truth is just a prettier kind of slavery.” So, Theo walked on, the echo of his footsteps the only real sound.

Eventually, he climbed a steep hill and came upon the Tower of Books. It pierced the clouds with shelves and staircases spiralling into the heavens. The air smelled of ink and candlewax. Here, scholars in robes debated constantly.

“Truth corresponds to reality,” one old man said, adjusting his round glasses. “We test it, verify it, line it up with reason.”

Theo appreciated their clarity—they had countless charts, infographics, thesis research, and meta-analyses stacked as high as he could see. They were serious people. But the higher he climbed, the colder it got. People lived in their heads. They knew much but loved little. Arguments never ended. It was logic without laughter.

And so, feeling wiser but not warmer, he descended and moved on.

One afternoon, he stumbled into a valley where music floated on the wind and colours spilt over the hills. It was the River of Beauty, where people danced barefoot in the grass and joyfully painted in the air.

Here, they said, “Truth is what moves your soul. If it’s beautiful, it’s true.” Theo felt alive. He painted with children. He sang under the stars. He forgot about his search for a while until he saw a magnificent statue in the centre of the square. It glorified Victimhood and persecuted anyone who disagreed.

He asked, “How can something look beautiful and still be evil?”

The smiles faded. “Don’t be judgmental,” someone said. But he couldn’t shake the unease. It was beauty unanchored. Delight without discernment. So he left the riverbanks, the melodies fading behind him like the end of a dream.

As night fell, and he felt truly lost, he found a small fire burning in the wilderness. A Stranger sat beside it, wrapped in a cloak, his eyes reflecting the firelight and something more profound, like oceans behind his gaze.

“Why are you searching for truth?” the Stranger asked.

Theo, too tired to pretend, answered honestly:
“Because I’m tired of lies. Tired of confusion. I want something real. Something to build my life on.” 

The Stranger tore a piece of bread and handed it to him. The warmth in his hands felt like something ancient. He leaned in and said gently:

“You seek a thing... but Truth is not a thing. Truth is a Person.”

Theo froze.
“You mean... you?”

The Stranger nodded, his eyes smiling now.

“I am the Way, the Truth, and the Life.” (John 14:6)

Something ignited in Theo’s heart. He had heard many explanations. But now, he had met the Explanation Himself for the first time.

That night, the Stranger taught him by the fire. Not like a professor, but like a Father to a son. He explained how truth can be tested:

Theo realised something profound. He hadn’t just found the Truth. The Truth had found him.

When Theo finally returned home, he was different. He no longer needed to shout his questions into the air. He walked with the Answer. He still read books. He still admired beauty. He still questioned things — but from a place of peace.

Reality changed for Theo, for Truth was no longer a concept to be mastered. 
It was a Companion to be followed.

·       A Voice that leads.

·       A Presence that abides.

·       A Name: Jesus.

Kreeft beautifully ties the concept of truth to the Person of Christ:

“Jesus does not just teach the truth. He is the Truth.”

Referencing John 14:6, Kreeft emphasises that truth is personal, incarnated, and relational, not merely propositional or abstract.

“Truth is not just a formula or a philosophy—it is a face.”

This means Christianity offers not just correct information, but a relationship with the One who is truth.

Jesus does not merely speak truth, He embodies it (John 14:6).   

Truth as Drama

One of the most profound ways I’ve come to understand truth is through the image of drama — not the shallow, soap-opera kind, but the rich, unfolding, purposeful kind of drama that Kevin J. Vanhoozer often speaks about. He describes theology as theodrama — the divine drama of God’s redemption story playing out in real time. In this picture, Scripture is not just a textbook of information, it’s a Script, a living Word that invites us to embody and perform the truth with our whole lives.

Each of us, then, is an actor on God’s stage. But we’re not performers putting on a show — we’re participants in a real story, called to interpret and live out the roles given to us by the divine Playwright. Every actor brings something of themselves into the role — emotion, personality, history, and voice. There’s room for unique interpretation, but never for rewriting the story. The goal isn’t to be impressive but to be authentic to the Author’s intent. And the proof of our understanding of the truth is seen in the realism of our performance — in how well we live out the Word in the flesh and blood of everyday life.

But here’s the tragedy: many people today are trying to act out their lives without a script. They ad-lib through moral decisions, relationships, and purpose, reacting to others without a real sense of where they are in the plot. They don’t know who the main character is. They don’t know how the story began — and they certainly don’t know how it ends. They’re trying to live the drama of life without ever having heard the voice of the Director or read a single page of the script.

I think often of Dr. André Pelser, who, as a trained actor and preacher, used to say something so simple yet deeply profound: “I use the Bible as my divine script. I find the act and the scene, and then I play the script authentically.” That has always stayed with me. André taught us not to act in the religious sense of faking it, but to perform the truth so authentically that the audience- the watching world—could see Christ in us. Because the truth, as Vanhoozer reminds us, isn’t merely to be discussed, argued, or admired. It’s meant to be lived. Embodied. Performed.

According to Vanhoozer, the Bible unfolds like a five-act play: Creation, Fall, Israel, Jesus Christ, and finally, the Church — that’s us. We’re in Act Five. We don’t get to rewrite what came before us, and we don’t get to skip to the final curtain. Our task is to study the script, learn the story, know our lines, and perform our roles truthfully and grace—guided by the Holy Spirit, the ever-present Prompter.

Truth, then, is not static. It’s dynamic. It’s not just something you believe in your head, but something you live with your body. And the more faithful your performance, the more clearly the world sees the shape of the story — the Gospel — through you. The beauty of this metaphor is that it allows for creativity, personality, and genuine human emotion. But it also holds us accountable. Because the question is not simply: “What do I believe?” The real question is: “How well am I playing the truth?”

Many today are performing for likes, applause, or relevance — but they're not acting from the script. And when the pressure comes, the ad-libs fall flat. But the one who is rooted in the text — who knows the Story, walks with the Director, and performs with the ensemble of the Church — that actor doesn’t just survive the performance. They help bring the story to life.

So, what role are you playing? Have you studied the Script? Are you faithful to the Act you’re in? Because the curtain is rising — the world is watching — and the Author is calling us to step into the drama of redemption with all we are. And when we live the truth well, the audience doesn’t see us. They see the Author behind us.

The spirit of CHRIST litmus test 

All scripture points to Christ; all creation points to Him, too. All things were made through Him, and without Him nothing was made that was made. In Him was life, and the life was the light of men. And the light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not comprehend it (John 1:3-5). Christ's character, values, mindsets, ethics, habits, attitude, and lifestyle are like rulers, standards, and benchmarks for living the perfect life. We are the most beautiful people when we are most like Christ.

Different gurus, priests, spiritists and human-centred preachers propagate their version of how you can make God happy. Everyone speaks on behalf of God to explain what God wants. Each one tries to be more spiritual and authoritarian than the next one to gather the most followers and generate income for themselves. Religion’s goal is to gain leverage on God so that He can make my life better.  

Jesus follows a completely different approach!

• Jesus does not preach a way to God – He preaches God’s way to us! (John 3:16).
• He not only preaches what we need to do to reach God, but what God has done to reach us (Matt. 5:24, 36).
• Jesus does not preach a set of rules and methods: He preaches a Person! (John 6:28-29). That is why Jesus disregarded the religious precepts over the Sabbath; people kept the Sabbath and did not have real peace or rest. He is Sabbath! When you discover the rest in Him, every day becomes a Sabbath.
• Jesus makes us focus on God, whereas religion makes us focus on self (John 3:13).
• He proclaims a truth that He physically demonstrates to the letter (John 14: 6).
• Jesus preaches a practical truth that teaches you to live through crises and pain and not try to escape them. Blessed are the people who suffer, mourn, and are persecuted! (Matt. 5: 3-12).
• He gives immediate access to the reality of heaven and glory (lasting peace and joy) that man seeks. Peace, reconciliation, healing and deliverance are instantly available (Matt. 4:17). Religion always wants to present the destination far in the future. Still, Jesus gives the fullness of his Glory right in the beginning. The least is greater than John the Baptist! (Matt. 11:11).
• Jesus cultivates the ability to live godly in us (1 Pet. 2: 3-11). It is remarkable how quickly Jesus empowered His disciples to perform miracles and cast out demons. So, He wants to empower every follower who follows Him!

Religion ultimately seeks people’s money to maintain its version of dealing with reality. Jesus proclaims that God does not need our sacrifices. “Then be followers of God as beloved children; and walk in love, as Christ also loved us, and gave himself for us an offering and a sacrifice to God for a sweet fragrance.” (Eph. 5:1-2). Jesus multiplies bread and fish, helps His disciples catch many fish and discovers coins in a fish’s mouth. God gives! Finally, we give and sacrifice, but in response to what He first gave!

Truth test: 

• Truth must bring the individual to inner peace, rest, and an acceptable resolution. It must conclude and resolve the quest. 
• The truth is consistent with the mind, will, character, glory, and being of God. Even more to the point: Truth is the self-expression of God.
• Truth is coherent. According to coherence theories, truth requires a proper fit of elements within an entire system. 
• Truth is consistently sustainable and rigid throughout time and history. It’s the opposite of relativism, changeable, unpredictable fluidness. 
• Truth can’t just be theory or philosophy. It must be tested practically in a particular life, place, time, and lifestyle. 
• Truth must be both simple and complex. Life is bitterly complicated, so truth should answer this complexity and give good direction to simple, doable action.  
• Truth is a paradox. Impartial, self-sufficient, indisputable, indefensible. The strongest magnet changes the weaker magnet’s polarity. 
• Truth should be universal, similarity and comparisons in other sciences. 

The Holy Ingredients of Truth

Truth revealed by God, which integrates the other tests and transcends them.

• Not all truth can be discovered; some must be revealed.
• Scripture becomes the interpretive lens to test all things (2 Tim. 3:16).
• This is not opposed to reason but completes it.

As Augustine said:

“All truth is God’s truth, wherever it is found.”

In Christ:

• Truth becomes revelation: “I am the way, the truth, and the life” (John 14:6).
• Goodness becomes incarnational: “He went about doing good” (Acts 10:38).
• Beauty becomes redemptive: “He had no beauty... yet we esteemed Him” (Isa. 53:2), pointing to the paradoxical beauty of sacrificial love.

In classical and Christian thought, these three are inseparable. You can’t have one without the others:

• Truth without goodness becomes harsh (legalism, cold rationalism).
• Goodness without truth becomes sentimentalism (well-meaning but blind).
• Beauty without truth or goodness becomes idolatry (allure without moral grounding).

💡 “Truth is beautiful when it leads to goodness; goodness is true when it flows from truth; and beauty draws the heart to both.”

Leonard Sweet, the creative and prophetic Christian futurist, offers a rich and imaginative re-framing of the Trinity not just as a doctrine to believe, but as a relational and missional rhythm to live by. He breaks it down into three relational movements that mirror the persons of the Trinity:

·       Missional (Father) 

·       Incarnational (Son) 

·       Communional (Spirit)

(Or as he sometimes puts it:  Communion Commission Compassion

This triad forms the backbone of what Sweet calls a "trinitarian ecclesiology" — a way of being Church and living faith that reflects God's very relational nature. Let’s unpack this with theological depth and practical clarity.

The Trinity as a Dance of Communion, Mission, Incarnation.

The Trinity is not a mathematical puzzle to be solved, but a relational mystery to be entered. Sweet reframes this divine dance (perichōrēsis) in practical movements:

Sweet insists that this trinitarian rhythm is the template for Christian life, leadership, and community.

Trinitarian Identity: What It Means to Be the Church

🔹 Missional (Like the Father)

• The Church is sent — never static.
• The Father is the sending God (John 20:21 – “As the Father sent me, so I send you.”)
• The Church must always be outward-facing, participating in the sending love of the Father.
• It is not about gathering only, but going.

🔹 Incarnational (Like the Son)

• The Church is embodied presence.
• Jesus pitched His tent among us (John 1:14).
• We don’t just preach the gospel — we live it, in flesh and blood, in the grit and dust of life.
• Incarnational ministry means contextual, local, relational presence — not parachuting in with answers but living alongside.

🔹 Communional (Like the Spirit)

• The Church is relational, intimate, and interwoven.
• The Spirit binds us to Christ and to one another (1 Cor. 12:13).
• It’s not about programs or performance, but presence, fellowship, and mutual indwelling.
• We don’t “build” the Church — we participate in the Spirit’s knitting together of the Body.

Sweet: “We don’t go to church. We are the Church. And the Church is mission, incarnation, and communion.”

A Shift from Industrial to Organic Church

Leonard Sweet challenges the mechanical, institutional church model and proposes a Trinitarian, organic, and relational ecclesiology, often using metaphors like:

• The Church as a table, not a theater.
• The Spirit as a GPS, not a map — we listen and move.
• Ministry as story-living, not just story-telling.

He believes the postmodern world needs:

• Not just right belief (orthodoxy), but also
• Right relationship (orthopathy) and
• Right practice (orthopraxy)

Which again reflects the Trinitarian balance:

• Belief (Father/Mission)
• Embodiment (Son/Incarnation)
• Relational life (Spirit/Communion)

Biblical Echoes

• Missional: Genesis 12:1–3 (Abraham sent), Matthew 28:19 (Great Commission)
• Incarnational: John 1:14, Philippians 2:5–11 (God made flesh)
• Communional: Acts 2:42–47, John 17 (Jesus’ prayer for unity)

Practical Implications for Ministry

Final Metaphor: The Coin of the Church

One coin, three sides:

• The edge (Missional) — how we cut into the world
• The face (Incarnational) — the image of Christ, visible to all
• The back (Communional) — the unseen relational glue

All three are needed. Lose one, and the coin is counterfeit.

Kreeft regularly teaches that:

• Truth (mind)
• Goodness (will)
• Beauty (heart)

…are not three separate ideas, but three expressions of the same reality — God.

“Truth is God known.
Goodness is God obeyed.
Beauty is God enjoyed.”

To seek truth without goodness is to become a cold academic.
To seek beauty without truth is to become a sentimentalist.
To seek goodness without truth is to become a legalist.

All three must be held in harmony.