When I was brought up as a Christian in Northern Ireland in the late 1960s and early 1970s, Bible tracts were a familiar presence. One of the most common carried the words, “I am the way, the truth, and the life.” At the time, I did not notice that the first two words were not capitalised. That distinction would not begin to matter to me until much later.

In Sunday school with Miss Morgan, it was understood that these words referred to the historical figure of Jesus of Nazareth. They were presented as a statement about him, not as an invitation into something to be known. I rarely asked questions, but others did. One question surfaced again and again: What happens to those who don’t accept Jesus? The answer was given with certainty. Those who did not accept him, we were told, would go to hell. As children, we lacked the language to question this, yet something in us felt the weight of it. Long before we could articulate doubt, fear quietly settled alongside faith.

And yet, even then, there was something else present. When I first encountered the words “I AM the Way, the Truth, and the LIFE,” I felt a lovely sense of belonging. Something in the phrase seemed to gather rather than divide, to welcome rather than withhold. For a moment, it felt as though there might be a place to rest.

But that sense of belonging did not come without hesitation. Almost immediately, a quieter question followed: Can this really belong to me if it does not belong to everyone? Could I honestly rest in a belonging that appeared to require the exclusion of others? This question did not arise from rebellion or disbelief, but from sincerity. It was not a rejection of faith, but an unwillingness to accept a belonging that depended on someone else being left outside.

It took nearly sixty years for something to become clear — not as an idea I could argue for, but as a recognition I could no longer ignore. The words “I AM the Way, the Truth, and the LIFE” were never spoken to define who belongs and who does not. They were not addressed to Christians rather than non-Christians, nor to those who carry the right beliefs, names, or identities. They were spoken from a depth that precedes all such distinctions, quietly inviting a belonging that does not depend on how one defines oneself at all.

What follows in this series is rooted in Scripture, but it does not arise from theology in the usual sense. The words of the Gospels and the letters that surround them are honoured here not as propositions to be accepted, but as witnesses to an experience that cannot be contained by words alone. They point beyond themselves, not toward a system of belief, but toward a direct revelation of what the words “I AM the Way” name from within lived experience.

This distinction matters, because the I AM the Way is not something that can be grasped conceptually or possessed through agreement. When received merely as a statement, it easily hardens into doctrine, and in doing so can quietly extinguish the very invitation it was meant to offer. Words that once pointed toward LIFE become conclusions about life, and recognition is replaced by repetition.

This is why St. Paul could say, “The letter killeth, but the Spirit giveth life.” The letter kills not because words are wrong, but because when we limit ourselves to literal understanding alone, we mistake the signpost for the destination. Spirit, by contrast, is not an interpretation at all. It is the direct experience of KNOWING — the living recognition of the I AM from which the words were first spoken.

What is shared here, then, is offered in language with full awareness of language’s limits. The invitation does not ask to be believed, defended, or repeated. It asks to be entered. And only in that entering does the Scripture come alive, not as text alone, but as Spirit — not as something understood about God, but as LIFE known from within.

Most people who come to the words “I AM the Way, the Truth, and the LIFE” assume, quite naturally, that Jesus is speaking about himself as a person — that he is identifying his historical life as the way to God. This assumption has shaped centuries of belief, devotion, and division. Yet the words themselves invite a deeper attentiveness. They ask not only who is speaking, but from where.

Throughout the Gospels, Jesus speaks at times as a human being within history, and at other times from a depth that seems to precede history altogether. At times he speaks from the personal sense of ‘I am.’ When he says ‘I AM the Way, the Truth, and the LIFE,’ he is not merely referring to a biography or a role.

It is from this stillness that the ancient invitation “Be still and KNOW that I AM God” reveals its true meaning. These words are not a command issued from outside. They describe a natural unveiling. When the personal sense of self loosens its grip, the Presence that has always been here quietly recognizes itself. God is not encountered as an object, nor reached through effort. God is known as the very Being that remains when effort falls away.

From this ground, the next realization arises almost naturally. The sense of being the one who must manage life, secure outcomes, and carry responsibility for existence begins to soften. The words uttered by the Master Jesus, “I of myself can do nothing” no longer sound like discouragement or humility. They sound like relief. The personal self was never meant to be the source of LIFE. It was meant to be the place through which LIFE expresses itself. When this is seen, the burden of authorship dissolves. What remains is not passivity, but trust — not resignation, but alignment. In this light, the ancient saying comes alive: he who would save his life shall lose it, and he who loses his life for the sake of ME shall find it.

This surrender is not something the personal self accomplishes. It is what happens when the illusion of separateness is gently seen through. The sense of “me” that believed it was living life on its own begins to rest. In that resting, a deeper movement reveals itself, one that has always been present but rarely noticed because attention was fixed on effort. This is the doorway through which the meaning of “Not I, but Christ lives in me” becomes intelligible.

These words are not poetic exaggeration, nor an ideal to be reached through spiritual striving. They describe a lived realization. The “I” that steps aside is not erased; it is relieved of a role it was never designed to carry. In its place, LIFE itself becomes the animating center. Christ here does not name a personality or a religious title. It names the Universal Presence of God known from within, the Divine LIFE expressing itself without obstruction. To live from this recognition is not to lose individuality, but to discover it rooted in something infinitely larger than fear or self-preservation.

As this recognition deepens, time itself begins to loosen its hold on identity. Much of what we call the personal sense of “self” is bound up with story — with memory, ancestry, achievement, and inherited meaning. The words “Before Abraham was, I AM” speak directly to this structure. They do not point backward in history, but inward beyond it. Abraham represents origin, lineage, and the beginning of religious identity. To speak of what is before Abraham is to gesture toward what precedes every story the personal self uses to define itself.

The “I AM” does not arise from the past, nor does it move toward the future. It is the simple fact of Being, present before thought and unchanged by circumstance. When this is recognized, identity is no longer confined to time-bound narratives. LIFE is no longer something that began and will end. It is known as eternal, not because it continues endlessly, but because it was never born. This recognition does not remove human experience; it frees it from the weight of ultimate significance. This is something to KNOW by way of direct experience.

Only now can the words “I AM the Way, the Truth, and the LIFE” be heard as they were meant to be heard. The Way is not a path the personal self follows through effort or correctness. It is the natural movement of LIFE when resistance falls away. The Truth is not a doctrine to defend, but the recognition of what is already so beneath all appearances. LIFE is not survival extended indefinitely, but the indwelt Divine LIFE that flows when Being knows itself.

This is where the crucial distinction between life and LIFE becomes clear. Life, as most humans experience it, is structured around protection, control, and continuity of self. It is anxious by nature because it believes itself separate. LIFE, as the Master revealed it, is given, not achieved. It is lived from union rather than defended from fear. To discover LIFE is not to improve the personal self, but to see through the assumption that the personal self was ever the source of existence.

From this vantage point, the words “Believe in ME” undergo a quiet transformation. Belief here is not mental agreement or doctrinal assent. It is entrustment. It is the willingness to rest identity in what is real rather than what is familiar. The “ME” spoken of is not the historical personality of Jesus Christ as a separate figure, but the Universal I AM speaking through him. To believe in ME is to live from that same Presence, to allow the Divine LIFE he knew as his own to be known as yours.

When belief is understood this way, it naturally dissolves into KNOWING. Faith becomes participation rather than persuasion. Trust replaces effort. The hunger for certainty gives way to intimacy. Nothing is added to the personal self; instead, the false center quietly releases its claim to authorship. What remains is not belief about God, but life in God.

It is from this depth that the often-feared words “No one comes to the Father but by ME” reveal their true meaning. Heard through separation, they sound like exclusion. Heard through union, they describe reality. The Father here is not a distant authority to be reached through correct belief. The Father names Source itself, the Ground of LIFE. To come to the Father is not to travel somewhere else, but to awaken from the illusion of separation. There is no other way because there has never been another place from which to come. Union has always occurred through I AM, whether named or not.

This is not a limitation imposed by God, but a description of how Being is structured. Concepts cannot reach Source because concepts arise after separation is assumed. Doctrine cannot restore union because union was never broken. Only recognition can reveal what has always been true. In this sense, the words are neither threat nor boundary. They are clarity spoken without fear.

As this clarity settles, the declaration “I AM the Light of the world” is no longer heard as a claim of superiority. It is heard as revelation. Light does not struggle to shine. It simply reveals what is already present when obstruction is removed. The Universal I AM is Light itself, the silent illumination by which all experience is known. When Jesus spoke from this place, he was not claiming ownership of the Light. He was speaking as the Light, unobstructed.

This is why he could also say, without contradiction, “You are the light of the world.” The Light is not reserved for one figure. It is the nature of LIFE itself. When the personal self no longer insists on being the center, the Light that has always been present begins to shine through ordinary human life. Not dramatically, not performatively, but quietly, naturally, and faithfully.

This series that I name “I AM the Way” series is an invitation into that recognition. It does not ask you to adopt new beliefs or reject old ones. It asks only for sincerity, for the willingness to pause and notice what has always been here beneath effort and fear. You are not being led toward something distant. You are being invited to recognize what is already living you. This series will unfold over time. As it does you can access the invitations by way of the sidebar above.

The Way is not elsewhere. The Truth is not hidden. LIFE is not withheld. What remains is the simple willingness to be still, to release the false center, and to allow the I AM to be known — not as an idea, but as the living Presence of your own Being. This is not the beginning of a journey toward God. It is the remembering that you have never been apart.

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