The Great Divide

A Dialogue Between Faith and Truth

 Practitioner:

 Do we not seek to warm ourselves when we are cold?

To cool ourselves when we are hot?

It is but instinct. Natural.

Then why do we accept what we know are lies?

Faith is but belief without evidence.

Is it not instinctive or natural to seek the Truth?

 Believer:

You're comparing basic survival instincts to truth like they're the same thing. But they're not.

Warming yourself when you're cold? That's about the body. The Truth I live by—that's about the soul.

Do you think we accept lies? No. We reject your version of Truth because we already know The Truth. It's not instinct—it's revelation. It's faith. And just because you can't see it doesn't mean it isn't real.

You're trying to measure what's eternal with the tools of the temporary. That's your mistake.

I don't follow my faith because it's easy—I follow it because it's right. Because it's been tested, refined, and proven in my life.

If you want to believe, instinct leads to Truth. Fine. My instinct led me to God. And no amount of clever questions will pull me away from that.

Practitioner:

You say your faith is Truth because it's been "proven in your life."
But personal conviction isn't proof—it's belief. And belief, no matter how deep, doesn't make it the Truth.

The Philosophy of the Divine Law doesn't confuse belief with Truth.
It accepts what is.

There is no "your truth" or "my truth." There is only the Truth—objective, unchanging, and governing, regardless of whether we recognize it.

Yes, it's instinct to seek warmth when we are cold. That's survival.
And just as naturally, we seek the Truth.
But the Truth doesn't always comfort—it clarifies. It reveals. It requires us to let go of illusions, even cherished ones.

You say you've been led to God. But can you point to what led you—not what you believed, but what you could observe, test, and confirm within our shared reality?

If not, then what you're holding onto isn't Truth.
It's belief. And belief, by its nature, is speculation.

The Philosophy of the Divine Law does not reject God.
It rejects untruth.
It does not ask for faith—it asks for honesty.
Not comfort, but clarity.
Not salvation, but responsibility.

Because, in the end, we do not live by what we believe.
We live by the Truth.

Believer:

You say you live by the Truth—but who decides what that is? You say it's objective, observable, testable. But your instruments are limited. Your senses are flawed. Even your reason is bound by the assumptions you bring to it. You demand evidence for God as though God were a rock or a formula. But God is not an object in your lab. God is the source behind it all—the reason your world exists in the first place.

You call belief speculation. But you, too believe in things you cannot fully prove: justice, love, beauty. You trust your reason—why? Because it works? So does mine. Faith works. And not just for me—for billions of people across generations. Is all of that just a coincidence? Delusion?

You say the Philosophy of the Divine Law doesn't reject God, just untruth. But when it denies revelation, denies the soul, denies what cannot be tested—it closes the door on the very reality I know most deeply. Faith is a kind of seeing. It's not blindness—it's sight beyond sight.

You say we must let go of cherished illusions. But what if your refusal to believe is the illusion? What if your search for certainty has made you deaf to what speaks in silence?

I don't reject your search for Truth. I respect it. But don't presume mine is lesser because it doesn't fit your frame. You test for what you expect to find. I was found by what I wasn't looking for.

You live by the Truth, you say. So do I.

But my Truth has a name. And I live by it in faith.

Practitioner:

You say your Truth has a name. But Truth does not name itself. People do.
You speak of faith as "sight beyond sight." But when we cannot see, we imagine. And imagination—no matter how sacred it feels—is not confirmation.
You ask who decides what the Truth is. The answer is no one. That's what makes it Truth. It does not belong to me—or you. It is not what we believe or hope for. It simply is. Our role is not to shape it but to seek and accept it, no matter where it leads or how it feels.
Yes, I value reason. Not because I believe in it but because it works across all lives, not just my own. Belief can be inherited, shaped by culture, and reinforced by emotion. But Truth transcends all that. The sun does not rise differently depending on who's watching.

The number of people who believe something does not make it the Truth.
People once believed the Earth was the center of the solar system and flat.
That evil spirits caused illness.
That slavery was divinely justified. And so much more that we now know was false.
The Truth does not conform to belief, no matter how many believe it.
Yet, it governs us whether we acknowledge it or not.

You say I test only for what I expect to find. But that's the difference: I test. You trust. And while trust has its place, it is not a substitute for what can be shown, shared, and understood within our shared reality.
You call this world limited. I call it honest. And if something is beyond it, it will reveal itself in Truth—not through the veil of belief, but through what is.
You live by your named Truth. I live by the Truth: unnamed, unshaped, unowned.
And I live not in certainty—but in responsibility.

Believer:

You speak as if what can't be tested can't be true—as if the eternal must submit to the temporary to be real. But some truths don't arrive in a lab. They come in silence, in suffering, in surrender. You call that imagination. I call it grace.

You say Truth doesn't name itself. But how do you explain the voice that speaks when no one else is there? The change that comes not from logic but from love? The clarity that breaks through when the mind is quiet, not active?

You say belief is shaped by culture. So is reason. So is science. Everything we use to interpret the world is filtered through human limitations. But God isn't limited by that. Revelation isn't culture—it's interruption. It's disruption. It's the Truth arriving uninvited, undeniable.

You test because you think Truth must make itself provable. But the deepest things in life don't come with proof. You love. You hope. You grieve. Not because those things can be measured—but because they're real. That's how I know God.

You say you live by the unnamed. I live by the Name I was given. You call it ownership. I call it a relationship.

And responsibility? I carry that, too. But mine comes with meaning. Because I am not just part of reality—I am known by the One who made it.

Practitioner:

You say some truths don't arrive in a lab. That they come in silence, suffering, and surrender. But pain and vulnerability do not validate what we come to believe during them. Sincerity is not a measure of Truth. It is a measure of how much we want what we believe to be true.

You ask how I explain the voice that speaks when no one else is there.

The Philosophy of the Divine Law calls that voice God's Divine Essence—a distinct and instantly recognizable presence of thought, inherent within, that guides our actions toward the most favorable outcome for ourselves, other people, and our current environment.

Though inherent within all, God's Divine Essence is not apparent to all. And it cannot be proven from one to another. That's why I do not use it to make claims or demands. It is not authority. It is responsibility. You call it communion. I call it guidance that can lead to a clear conscience.

You speak of love, hope, grief—real things, you say, that cannot be measured. But their effects can be observed. They are not mysterious forces; they are human experiences. They belong to our shared reality—not to another realm.

You call revelation disruption. But what is disrupted is not the world—it's your view of it. Revelation is only as true as the lens through which it's interpreted. And lenses vary from person to person, religion to religion, generation to generation.

You say you live by the Name you were given. But names come from people. Cultures. Scriptures. The Truth does not change when the name does. Nor does it require belief to be what it is.

You say I test because I think Truth must make itself provable. Not provable—demonstrable. Shareable. That which governs us all must be accessible to all—not just felt by a few. Otherwise, we mistake the personal for the universal.

The Philosophy of the Divine Law does not seek to diminish meaning. It seeks to free it from illusion.

So yes, I live by the unnamed. Not because I deny relationship but because I refuse to confuse comfort with clarity. I do not claim to know—I seek to become aware.

You carry responsibility, you say. So do I. But mine is not granted by grace. It is accepted by choice—not in certainty, but in responsibility.

Believer:

You speak of illusion, but what you call illusion, I call the unseen. You say the Truth must be shareable to be real. But not everything true is transferable. Some things are known only in the living, not the proving.

You say the voice within is God's Divine Essence. I don't argue with that—not entirely. But I don't just feel guidance—I know presence. Not suggestion, but communion. That voice doesn't just direct—it speaks, not toward an outcome, but from a source.

You say you test. I trust. And you're right—we do differ. But trust isn't weakness. It's how relationships begin. It's how love works. And what I know of God, I didn't deduce—I encountered.

I hear you when you say your guidance doesn't demand authority. But Truth, if it governs us, isn't passive. It doesn't just exist—it calls. And I've answered that call not with comfort but with cost.

You want something observable, something demonstrable. But if all you ever seek is what can be proven, you'll only find what fits your tools. Some things require presence, not proof. Faith is not blindness—it is the willingness to walk where the light does not yet reach.

You live in responsibility. So do I. But mine includes reverence.

Because I believe the Truth is not just what is.

It is Who Is.

Practitioner:

Thank you for a civil discussion. I don't take it lightly. In a world where disagreement often breeds contempt, honest dialogue is rare—and valuable.

You speak of presence. I do not deny that what you've experienced feels real. But the Philosophy of the Divine Law doesn't rest on what feels true. It rests on Truth—regardless of how we feel.

You call faith willingness. I call it a wager. And while I respect the courage it takes to follow what you believe, I cannot accept it as Truth simply because it brings you reverence or comfort.

You say the Truth is not just what is—but Who Is.

But I have found that Truth, by its nature, is not someone. It is no one's possession, no one's voice, no one's name.

It is that which governs us all, whether we acknowledge it or not. It is what remains when belief dissolves, hope falters, and emotion clears. It is the structure within which love, trust, and reverence flourish—or fail.

The Truth does not change. We must be willing to change as we come to know it.

And so I walk not by faith but by awareness. Not because it is easier, but because it is honest and does not require belief.

The moment we stop demanding that the world conform to what we believe and accept the Truth that governs our shared reality, we will finally overcome our divisions. Our salvation is in our hands, not in belief, faith, or revelation, but in the Truth.

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