What do we do when our internal lie detector—meant to help us discern truth from fiction—has been disarmed?

How do we move forward in a world where the confusion of chaos still reigns?

As I wrap up this reflection on the sphere of the mind, I’m setting down a few new personal guidelines to help me walk forward in this fog of uncertainty:

​When the Lie Detector Breaks: New Guidelines for the Mind

1. Let Go of the Myth of the One Leader Truth-Bearer
I’m done looking for that one person who has all the answers. No human being on earth has access to the whole truth and nothing but the truth. I’ll still seek out wise voices and trusted experts—but I’ll also do my own research, ask hard questions, and stay grounded. We’re all in this together.

2. Refuse Cynicism, Embrace Realism
Rather than becoming cynical or disillusioned, I’m learning to adjust my expectations. Truth isn’t always obvious or immediate—but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist. I won’t give up on the search.

3. Keep the Adventure Alive
In fact, I’m going to pursue truth even more conscientiously. The journey itself—through questions, doubts, revelations, and quiet realizations—is where real transformation happens. It’s the adventure that brings joy, peace, and purpose.

4. Choose the true Guide, the Waymaker, the Truth, and the Life
I’m choosing again to follow Jesus—the clearest forerunner in this journey. He is the founder of truth, the Word of truth, the teacher of truth. I will listen for His voice. His words take precedence over all others. I might not always hear it clearly - but it won't be for lack of trying.

5. Make Truth a Shared Journey
Whenever I can, I want to include others in this lifelong pursuit of truth. Let’s share what we learn. Let’s listen deeply. Let’s ask honest questions together. Truth should be a communal experience, not a private trophy.

6. Speak the Truth in Love
If I see someone stumbling into a lie—oblivious to what might seem obvious to others—I want to respond with compassion, not judgment. I want to pour my hard-earned truth into a giant bucket of love. So they don’t feel like a fool, or rejected, or small.

Because even the tiniest truths—the ones we barely notice—are golden nuggets - streaks of light that shimmer through our ordinary days.
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Truth still holds a million promises.

​If you say the truth and nothing else, you will have an immense adventure as a consequence. You will not know what is going to happen to you, but you have to let go of clinging to the outcome. You have to let go. The truth will reveal the world the way it is intended to be revealed. The consequence for you will be that you will have the adventure of your life. The other part of that ethos—which makes perfect sense to me and I cannot see how it can be any other way—is that whatever makes itself manifest as a consequence of the truth is the best possible reality that could be manifest, even if you cannot see it. - Jordan Peterson

Personal Note:
In this blogging series, I am merely skimming through this fivefold paradigm of evil as first experienced in the Story of Origin in Eden -- for a more detailed description of the fivefold paradigm and an in-depth healing/recovery process I have written a "text type  book" on this -- Impossible, forgiveness to the power of five.  available on Amazon.  Please look after yourself... do not be overcome... but overcome evil with good. 

This is simply a new way of arriving at an old truth. When we look at the Garden of Eden through the lens of the fivefold paradigm—and consider the role of the mind—we begin to see how the serpent’s first lie, the introduction of illusion, was the initial spark of chaos in the mind. It disabled the lie detector in all of us—permanently.
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With that inner compass compromised, discerning reality and truth becomes increasingly difficult. A dysfunctional capacity for discernment is not merely a flaw—it is a face of evil.

This is why the chaos unleashed in the Garden was not only addressed through Jesus' bodily resurrection, bringing new life, but also through the healing of the mind’s confusion. The cross was not just about defeating death; it was about restoring truth.
Pilate’s haunting question, “What is truth?” still reverberates through history. Was it spoken in cynicism, confusion, or as a cry for help? Either way, it reflected a mind lost in the fog of moral ambiguity.

This crisis of truth is also seen in the trial of Jesus, particularly in the role of Annas—the corrupt former high priest. He violated numerous Jewish laws by conducting an illegal trial in his own house, attempting to coerce self-incrimination, and physically assaulting an unconvicted man. From Annas, the Truth was passed to Caiaphas, the reigning high priest and Annas's son-in-law. There, the injustice continued.
The Sanhedrin’s trial broke at least seven Jewish legal codes:

1. It was held in secret.
2. It was conducted at night.
3. It involved bribery.
4. The defendant had no legal advocate.
5. The testimony of 2–3 consistent witnesses could not be obtained.
6. Self-incriminating statements were used against Him.
7. The sentence was carried out on the same day—against legal procedure.

Despite all this, Caiaphas declared the Truth guilty—not because of evidence, but because Jesus claimed to be the Son of God, which Caiaphas called blasphemy.

Thank God, then, for the hope Jesus brings—cutting through the fog, healing the damage done by that ancient lie.

“I am the way, and the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.” —John 14:6

Can We Really Know Our Own Truth?

Surely we can know our own truth—at least, that’s what I’ve always taught in my life-writing course. I would say to my students, “Don’t worry about what others think—just write from your perspective. It’s your truth. You own it.”

And I believed that—wholeheartedly—until I heard a debate on the topic… and until I sat down to write this blog.

Now I’m left wondering: Can we really know ourselves?

Or do we carry a deep, inherent bias—one that distorts and buries our own truth?
Perhaps one of the clearest manifestations of this brokenness is what psychologists call catastrophic thinking.

I first noticed this—dramatically so—in parents of murdered children. I even remember the moment I first heard the term. That’s exactly what our support group meetings often circled around: catastrophizing.

In psychology, catastrophizing is defined as an exaggerated, negative mental set triggered by actual or anticipated painful experiences. It’s one of the strongest psychological predictors of pain. This mindset has three main expressions:

• Helplessness: “It’s awful, and I feel completely overwhelmed.”
• Rumination: “I can’t stop thinking about how much it hurts.”
• Magnification: “I worry that something even more serious may happen.”

Apparently, we exaggerate—and often don’t even realize we’re doing it.

Later, in my training, I was introduced to the concept of negativity bias. As humans, we’re wired to give more weight to what goes wrong than to what goes right. A single negative experience can hijack the mind, warping our perception in ways that impact our work, relationships, health, and happiness.

Some research suggests that we operate with a 75% negativity bias—which means that we don’t see life impartially. We lean toward the dark side of our own stories, even as we try to tell the truth.
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So, the question lingers: Is our truth really ours? Or is it shaped—distorted—by brokenness we can’t even see?

And then can we trust the truth in others?

In today’s world, the fragility of truth is especially evident in the way technology and social media amplify falsehoods. 

Here’s a closer look at why truth feels so fragile today:

• Information Overload: The sheer volume of content online makes it difficult to discern what is accurate and trustworthy.
• Misinformation and Disinformation: False or misleading content can spread like wildfire, often outpacing any attempt to correct it.
• Erosion of Trust: As trust in institutions, media, and experts declines, people are more likely to believe anything—or nothing at all.
• Polarization and Echo Chambers: Social media algorithms often isolate us into ideological bubbles, limiting exposure to differing viewpoints and reinforcing division.

And yet, I still believe in the power of truth.
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“I believe that unarmed truth and unconditional love will have the final word in reality. This is why right, temporarily defeated, is stronger than evil triumphant.” — Martin Luther King Jr.

What happens when you introduce chaos into a perfectly formed body—death happens. 

We were created perfect. The human body is described in the Bible as “intricately woven” and “fearfully and wonderfully made.” These phrases emphasize the intentional and detailed craftsmanship of our design—from conception in the womb to the uniqueness of every part of our structure.

Introducing imperfection into something perfect fundamentally changes its nature—it becomes imperfect. Sudden imperfection introduces vulnerability and the potential for failure. Just as one flawed component in a perfect machine can cause a breakdown, so too can a single act or infection bring disorder to the human body.

We see this immediately in the biblical account. Adam and Eve’s eyes were opened—and they were afraid. They suddenly became aware of their mortality. They knew they were facing death.

It’s hard enough to face death at any age—but to face it in that moment?

Trauma.

In today’s world, death anxiety is a common part of the human experience. Thoughts of death can trigger fear—fear of separation, loss, pain, suffering, and the ache of leaving loved ones behind. This anxiety, though deeply uncomfortable, is a near-universal aspect of our awareness.

As we know, trauma responses include fight, flight, freeze, and more. Adam and Eve's first reaction was flight—they hid from God.

Flight is often instinctive. It can feel like an overwhelming need to escape. A strong flight response may even escalate into a panic attack or, in some cases, trigger physical reactions like asthma attacks.

“And they heard the sound of the Lord God walking in the garden in the cool of the day, and Adam and his wife hid themselves from the presence of the Lord God among the trees of the garden.”
Then the Lord God called to Adam and said to him, “Where are you?”
So he said, “I heard Your voice in the garden, and I was afraid.”
(Genesis 3:8–10)

Fear. Hiding. Disconnection. These were the first fruits of chaos introduced into a perfect body.
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“Once you have tasted flight, you will forever walk the earth with your eyes turned skyward, for there you have been, and there you will always long to return.”--Leonardo da Vinci

Just a quick Personal Update

Life is never perfect—but in spite of everything we had gone through we were in a good place. Cliff and I had landed on our feet. The family was doing well. We were even having a phoenix party in our backyard. It felt good.

That’s when I noticed the tremor in my hands—just a slight tremor, I was reminded of my mother. She had Parkinson’s. My aunt had Parkinson’s. I think my aunt had a noticeable tremor as long as I can remember.  I grew up surrounded by it. So, when I saw that tremor, I just knew.

But I didn’t say anything. I didn’t want to. I ignored it.

A few months later—still having said nothing—Cliff was diagnosed with cancer. And I put everything on hold. After he was gone, I finally went to get diagnosed.

The doctor told me: I had Parkinson’s. I also had type 2 diabetes and fatty liver disease. None of it was immediately life-threatening, but it was all serious—and all manageable. So, I told myself I’d just keep going.

There’s a stigma attached to the Parkinson's disease—a stigma - at least for me. It feels weak. It trembles. It leads to a slow decline.

I hate that slow decline.

I always said I’d rather have a quick decline. Cliff had the perfect death. He was diagnosed, and within three or four months, he was gone. Peacefully.

I miss him terribly.

I have with my daughter's help dealt with my diabetes and liver -- so I am doing good.
That’s how I came to be where I am now. I am now accepting the fact that I have Parkinson's - stigma and all...

I have so much to be grateful for - I don't have much of a tremor -- I haven't fallen - and I have a beautiful supportive family - all have been there for me.  And I have these wonderful friends who bring me flowers - send me cards - and visit me in Winkler.

Even if you fall on your face, you're still moving forward. - Victor Kam
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