What Does It Mean When Someone Says Jesus Is the Way? A Journey Through Faith, Action, and Uncertainty

I've been pondering this thought for several weeks now, maybe a couple of months. The scriptures say that Jesus is the way, the truth, and the life. Jesus himself said that the only way to the father is through me.

Regardless of your religion, experience, or upbringing, how is it possible to be 100% certain that Christians are right and the rest of the world is wrong when it comes to the way, the truth, and the life? This question has bothered me for much of my life. As a person who is often wrong, I'm hardly one to talk on this topic. As I good friend of mine, who's brilliant in so many ways, intellectually, business wise, philosophically, and a person to whom I seek wisdom from regularly, always says, "but I could be wrong!"

I know that Jesus taught on humility and this one phrase sticks out like a sore thumb. The phrase where Jesus says, "I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me" just doesn't seem humble. "But I could be wrong" sounds much more humble to me.

So, for years I've tried to be humble. Why? Because it's safer that way. There's nothing worse than being so certain that you tell everyone only to discover you were wrong. So why risk all that pain and need to ask forgiveness. Better to be silent and appear a fool than to open your mouth and remove all doubt. This has been my mantra.

Until now.

Sometimes you discover something so basic that resonates so true that it just makes everything fit. Like laboring on a puzzle and then discovering the piece you've been looking for is right in front of you. It wasn't actually the piece you were looking for but upon discovery it was the piece that fit. And once that piece fit, a bunch of other pieces suddenly fit around it and the entire puzzle began to take shape.

I'm not claiming to have it all figured out—I certainly don't. But I can tell you that a small piece of the puzzle has been revealed to me, and it has changed everything. It's like finding that one obscure piece that doesn't complete the picture but is crucial in making sense of the whole. You don't realize how important it is until you start searching, not just casually, but with a desperation born from frustration at not knowing.

There's a quote that resonates here: "The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation" by Henry David Thoreau. The kind of desperation that leads to boredom is rooted in uncertainty. I've felt like I've been living in that uncertainty. There are moments of clarity, but they are far rarer than I care to admit. Most of the time, I choose to ignore my uncertainty for the sake of sanity and convenience. In a world full of influencers and experts, it's all too easy to quietly slip into a life of quiet desperation.

As Christians, it's easy to find comfort in the safety of 'not my will but Yours be done.' There's a certain peace in knowing that my will, my ego, can be set aside. But in the workplace or within my family as a father and grandfather, it feels like I'm supposed to be doing something. I remember a time when my teenage son was struggling with his grades. Part of me wanted to jump in and fix the situation—to contact his teachers, to oversee his homework every night. But I also knew that he needed to learn responsibility and that God might be working through this challenge to teach him something important. I was torn between taking action and stepping back, trusting God to guide him. The scripture in James 2:17 reminds us, 'faith by itself, if it is not accompanied by action, is dead.' This verse guided me as I chose to have an open, honest conversation with my son, setting boundaries and offering support, while also praying and trusting God to work in his heart. Over time, I saw him take ownership of his studies—not just because of my involvement, but because he started to understand the value of hard work and perseverance.

But what does that action look like? Am I supposed to just give grace to everyone, love my neighbor, turn the other cheek, and remain at peace while the culture around me seems to be warping the minds of my children and grandchildren? Or am I called to fight back? Should I be leading a protest or folding my arms in prayer? These are the questions I wrestle with—what part is mine to play, and what part is God's?

I also wrestle with the concepts of heaven and hell. Are these destinations we reach after death, or are they states of mind we experience now? I've certainly been in some heavenly places, and I've endured some hellish circumstances. Jesus taught us to pray, 'Your kingdom come, Your will be done, on earth as it is in heaven' (Matthew 6:10). This challenges me to consider that perhaps I'm meant to practice living in alignment with God's will here and now, bringing a bit of heaven to earth through my actions and attitudes. Am I supposed to practice living rightly here on earth today so that I end up in a better place tomorrow, or is my task to find a better place right here and now, regardless of my circumstances?

Maybe you've wrestled with these thoughts too, or maybe you've never considered them. This has been my life as a deep thinker. I struggle to turn it off. Perhaps you're like me, or perhaps these questions have never crossed your mind. Either way, I believe it's valuable to ask yourself a few simple questions.

1. What makes you so certain you are correct?

2. How do you decide what is most important?

3. What story are you telling yourself that is holding you back?

4. How much of what you believe shapes your perception?

I've already explained my answer to the first question: I'm rarely certain, which is why what I'm about to share feels so profound to me. I hope it resonates with you as well and that you find it important. This brings me to the second question.

Do you understand that what you believe is most important colors your entire view of everything? If you believe that how you look is most important, you'll spend your time working on your appearance, comparing yourself and others to an ideal image of 'the perfect look.' Most people don't take it to that extreme, but you get my point. I remember a time early in my career when I was entirely focused on climbing the corporate ladder. I believed that success at work was the most important thing, and I poured all my energy into it. But as I spent more time at the office, I began to notice that my relationships at home were suffering—I was missing important moments with my children, and my marriage felt strained. It wasn't until my wife gently pointed out how distant I had become that I realized I had placed the wrong priority at the center of my life. That realization led me to reassess what truly mattered—my faith, my family, and the legacy I wanted to leave behind. Shifting my focus back to these priorities brought a sense of balance and fulfillment that I hadn't experienced in years.

This question is worth pondering: How do you decide what is most important? I've found that the answer to this question has changed over time. At first, it was graduating high school, then finding a girlfriend (well, that happened during high school too!), and later getting into physical shape (so I could get a girlfriend). Even though I thought graduating was most important, in hindsight, getting a girlfriend seemed to take precedence. That's how it is with figuring out what's most important. You can say one thing and do something completely different. It's not what we say but what we do that reveals our true priorities.

My third question is: What story are you telling yourself that is holding you back? For me, this ties directly to the first question. I could be wrong. We all know 1 + 1 = 2, but did you know that 1 x 1 = 1 is now being debated in the highest levels of quantum physics? I've been telling myself, "I could be wrong," for so long that it's preventing me from proclaiming what I believe. Who am I to tell others what to think, let alone what to do?

This leads to my fourth and final question: How much of what you believe frames your perception? The frame is what surrounds the picture; it's the preconceived notions that pass through our subconscious minds as givens. Our lives are filled with these preconceived notions. I remember a time when I was working with a colleague who seemed distant and uninterested in collaboration. My initial framing was that he didn’t respect my ideas or value my input. This belief shaped how I approached our interactions—I became defensive and less open to his suggestions. But one day, during a casual conversation, he shared that he was going through a difficult personal situation that was consuming his attention. Suddenly, my frame shifted—I saw him not as someone dismissive but as someone in need of support. This change in perspective transformed our working relationship; I started approaching him with more empathy, and we became much more effective as a team..

Salespeople know that framing the conversation is everything. If I tell you a story about a piece of cardboard with writing on it being authentic and one of a kind, confirmed by experts, you might pay $5 million for a Pokémon card. Why? Because the framing around its value convinces you.

Similarly, if I tell you that my grandfather lived with members of the Jewish mafia and loved betting on horse races, you might question his moral code. The frame sets the tone. If you seek the negative, you will find it. Might it surprise you to discover that my father became a cop and not a criminal? My point is that the framing is preconceived, and while it might be true, what follows might not be the whole truth.

Therefore, I want to bring to your attention that, like me, you have many preconceived thoughts that cloud your ability to discern truth from fiction—or, as some might say, right from wrong, which is a moral statement that scientists seem to overlook. Let me take you down a quick rabbit hole. Atheists often criticize religion for its morality while fully accepting that 1 + 1 = 2 is both correct and right. Yet, they don't realize they are making a moral judgment. There is no science without morality; morality is the precondition for science, not just a religious claim. In fact, scientists are some of the most religious people I know—they believe nothing but the calculation. And yet, the calculations they rely on, like Euclidean geometry, are merely simplified explanations that eventually need to be reexamined. Perhaps a simpler example would suffice: nobody believed in black holes until they were needed to explain the universe. Now, dark matter and dark energy are required, but nobody can actually tell you what they are—they simply make the math work.

If I haven't lost you by now, then you're ready to hear what I've come to discover and feel compelled to shout from the rooftops. It's like Moses' burning bush moment—something that calls to you and pulls you off the beaten path, something you can't unsee or ignore. And so it is with my simple revelation:

Jesus is the way.

What exactly does that mean? Is it simply a belief in Him? That He died and was resurrected? How does that change anything? What does that do for me? Am I only to believe, and voila, I'm saved? From what exactly?

Jesus is the only way to the Father.

If the Father is enlightenment, then this can't be true—there are many paths to enlightenment, aren't there? Could it be that our preconceived notion of the Father is off? How do you see the Father? Is He loving? Is He judging you? Who or what is the Father that Jesus is speaking of?

If God is a spirit, then what spirit is He?

Depending on your upbringing and your social circles, the answer to this question will vary widely. As I search the scriptures and reflect on my own thoughts, I've come to a few conclusions:

My brain rarely stops.

I talk to myself a lot—sometimes it's helpful, sometimes it's downright mean.

I have the ability to choose what I compare myself to—some comparisons are helpful, and some destroy my spirit.

My thought life is more my spirit than my body, but they are closely related.

When someone walks into the room, I can feel their spirit—high, low, happy, mad.

My emotions can get the best of me and are often unhelpful.

Jesus preached that the kingdom of heaven is here/near.

While there are many stories about Jesus, what He preached was pretty simple: the kingdom of heaven is here. If God is the King, then what is His kingdom comprised of? The disciples saw it as something that would conquer the Roman Empire. But it didn't.

So, where does this leave us? If the kingdom of heaven is here, and Jesus truly is the way, then our faith isn't just something to believe—it's something to live. It means confronting our uncertainties, challenging our preconceived notions, and actively seeking to align our actions with God's will.

Living out this truth isn't always easy. It requires courage, humility, and a willingness to take steps of faith even when the path isn’t clear. But if we truly believe that Jesus is the way, then we’re called to let that truth guide every part of our lives—our thoughts, our decisions, our interactions with others.

I may not have all the answers, and perhaps I never will. But I do know this: I can’t ignore what has been revealed to me. So, I choose to move forward in faith, trusting that as I follow the way of Jesus, everything else will fall into place.

Now, I turn the question to you: Will you let these reflections lead you to a deeper understanding and a life more fully aligned with the truth? The choice is yours, and the journey is yours to take.