A truthful farewell

Since the dawn of humanity, the topic of truth has been fascinated over, debated, studied, admired, pillaged, burned, and redeemed.

Among all fields of academia, truth is foundational to thought, respect, courage; to be intellectually truthful is to realize one’s responsibility to an audience. In short, pure truth is authentic, albeit sometimes hard.

At points in my life, the authentic truth presented itself starkly. My twin brother, Clayton, at three months old, was diagnosed with cerebral palsy and epilepsy. Since then, besides the Lord Jesus, he has served as my inspiration, my motivation, my definition. Even though Clayton can’t walk or talk, and has the mental state of a three-month-old, his existence is a gift to my family, the joy of our life.

Clayton has given me so many outlooks and perspectives on our earthly journey. His existence is a real-life example of Jesus’ words in the Gospels about caring for the needy in Matthew 25, Luke 14, and John 9, to name a few examples. 

Most of all, though, Clayton shows the authentic truth. The hard truth is that creation is not perfect. That there are mistakes, that brokenness can infiltrate its way into the precious things we hold close to our hearts.

However, the pursuit of the truth, the authentic truth, burns away the lies of brokenness, the falsities of destruction, the false image that a broken world loves to portray. The truth of Clayton is that he is not, nor ever will be, while on this earth, “normal.”

Until he joins the Lord, he will not be able to go outside and play catch with me. My brother won’t be able to give me a hug, call my name, or simply ask if I want to go to the grocery store. Seemingly mundane things siblings do together are lost to me, sometimes entirely alien. To be honest, if Clayton were healed instantly, I would have no idea how to interact. 

Not to mention that’s just my experience as a brother, what about my parents having to endure never seeing one of their children take their first steps, experience the first day of kindergarten, never ride a bike, play sports in middle school, go to high school prom, attend college, get married, or have children? That’s the authentic truth.

What does one do with that forced, steely truth? Cry? Wallow? Despair? Submit to the pain of things that never will be? Well, I would be lying if I said I’ve never done any of those things. The key, however, revealed itself through realization. Realization that there are two authentic truths to be had. The first was brokenness. The second? Redemption.

I know in my heart that Clayton will be healed one day, in glory. Just because he can’t talk now, does not mean he and I can’t smile together. He can’t hug me? I’ll do it then. He can’t cry on my shoulder, so I’ll make him laugh. We can’t go throw a ball? Then we’ll load up in the wheelchair and go for a run. That’s the second, authentic truth, and the most important to recall.

I would like to think that, because of Clayton, and ever since that realization, a passion for truth took hold of me. I relentlessly tried to do things as truthfully as I could, even to a perfectionistic fault, until everything would fall apart because I felt I was dishonoring the truth.

I would search for the truth in news articles, information I came across on the Internet; anything that went before an audience and made a claim was to be vetted for truth. Due to the authentic truths that had been shown to me, I committed to displaying authentic truth in everything I did. Even in my profession as a medical laboratory scientist, the foundation of which is to uphold truthful clinical testing data.

The commitment to truth is what encouraged me to join The Talon. Through the help and recommendation of a friend, I committed to sharing and defending the authentic truth.

During my time at The Talon at first as a wee opinions writer, then as Opinions Editor, my responsibility was to ensure that while giving my opinion, the truth I presented in whatever form it may be: data, context, policy, politics, was not besmirched.

The authentic truth will be painful, most of the time, and will be rewarding all of the time. I had to face the sad, grief-ridden truth of life with my brother for me to realize the redemptive, life-giving truth that Clayton is one of my joys and nothing will ever replace him.

With Christ as our guide to everlasting Truth, I implore you to hear the minuscule lesson I have learned. Pursue the authentic truths you have been given. Defend the truth, advocate for the truth, die for the truth. Redeem the truth.

With that, I give my farewell. To my fellow writers of truth at The Talon, to my fellow students and pursuers of truth, and to my professors and guardians of truth here at Oklahoma Christian, I give all of my love and gratitude for fueling my pursuit of the authentic truth.

–Colby Coker