Reality does not always
speak in facts.
Sometimes it arrives
as a trembling story,
a cracked memory,
a whisper carried
through the ruins
of the human soul.
A photograph may hold a face
yet lose the sorrow
behind the eyes.
A statistic may count the poor
yet never feel
their cold hands at night.
A nation may write reports
about war and progress,
while mothers bury silence
inside empty rooms.
And so humanity tells stories.
Not merely to escape the world,
but to survive it.
The imagination becomes a candle
inside forgotten places.
It speaks for the erased,
remembers the unnamed,
gathers the fragments
history left behind.
Through stories,
the refugee carries home
through the desert.
Through stories,
the prisoner walks beyond walls.
Through stories,
the lonely keep a chair
for love that has not yet arrived.
Sometimes fiction
tells the truth
more honestly
than polished speeches.
Sometimes poetry
sees suffering
that institutions refuse to name.
Sometimes imagination
becomes mercy.
But imagination without conscience
becomes another empire.
It creates enemies
large enough for fear,
builds illusions
strong enough to hide the poor,
turns human pain
into spectacle.
Then stories no longer reveal reality—
they replace it.
This is why conscience matters.
Conscience keeps imagination
near the wounded body,
near tears and bread,
near the trembling neighbor,
near the Cross.
For even Christ
spoke through stories.
Seeds and vineyards.
Lamps and shepherds.
Lost sons and wounded strangers.
Heaven entered the world
through parables.
Not to hide truth,
but to awaken it.
And perhaps this is the mystery:
Imagination is not
the enemy of reality.
At its purest,
it is the doorway
through which reality
finally becomes visible.
Beyond systems.
Beyond polished language.
Beyond the spectacle of power.
Toward the human soul
still carrying
the image of God
beneath the weight
of the world.
Pastor Steven G. Lee
St. GMC Corps
May 23, 2026
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