Some of you have a voice in their head. Like your mother’s voice. I have that one too. She says things like, When you fall off the horse, the best thing you can do is get right back on. And Your bra straps are showing. At least mine does. (What does yours say??) Sometimes the voices are two–like the angel and the demon sitting on your right and left shoulder. Sometimes they go back and forth about whether you should eat that second serving of Doritos (and who’s to say which is right? Not I. Because seriously, Doritos).

Confession: I have a white male conservative evangelical pastor in my head. He says things I’ve heard from countless other (mostly male, mostly white, mostly conservative) leaders in my life. I argue with him frequently. And he argues with me.

These days, as I read Rachel Held Evans’ blog and pour over a book on the biblical case for gay marriage, I’ve been hearing this pastor say, Watch out, Jenna. The truth must be handled with care.

And I say . . . really?

Is the truth that fragile, that it might break if I take a couple swings at it? If I have myself a little wrestling match? If I go for a few rounds to see who is standing at the end … and if certain truths might not be truths at all but impostors?

I’m wondering about things. You probably are too, and they may be very different things than mine. Maybe while I’m working through gay marriage and the Bible, you’re working through what it means to love your church when they’ve hurt you. Or why there’s so much violence in the Old Testament. Or if you are called to adopt.

But I’d just like to say, to the pastor in my head who wants to caution me, who sees my raised fists and tells me to sit down: the truth I believe in is strong. Unbreakable. It need not be handled with kid gloves, or with any particular kind of carefulness. In fact, I think that handling it with so much care that we dare not give it a good shake actually shows we may not really respect it as much as we think.

Are we perhaps afraid that if we confront it, it might crack? That if we’re a bit too rough, it might tumble down around us? That our truth, in fact, is a house of cards?

If it’s the truth, it will stand up to questioning. If it’s the truth, it will stand up to doubt. If it’s the truth, you can pretty much hit it with your hardest question, your angriest feeling, your cuss words and your rage and your disappointment, and it will stand. It will rise up to meet us where we are, and prove to be made of the hardiest and strongest stuff.

Do I respect the truth? I suppose I do . . . but I prefer to think of it as loving the truth. Do I want to stay in line with the truth? I do . . . but I prefer to think of it as grabbing hold of it. Yanking it close to my face to give it a good look. Hugging it to my chest in a passion of tears when I’ve bottomed out and I’m reaching out blindly–and there it is. Not a precept, or a rule, or a theology–but a set of arms. Arms that were spread out on the cross for me and now close around me in the fiercest embrace.

Ultimately, the truth is not a cold set of facts. The truth is a being. God. And did you know he can be wrestled with? Jacob did it. And I will too. I can’t break truth–and I can’t break God–but by drawing close and taking hold of it (him!) and turning it over and inside out, I will only grow to understand him more. Love him more. Taste him more keenly.

Do you question? Do you doubt? Don’t be afraid. Don’t shy away. I leave you with the words of Captain Jean Luc Picard . . .