The Feast, the Whispers, and the Glory Test

Some Said, “He is Good.” Others Said, “He Deceives.”

One of the hardest moments in my life wasn’t being raped, or nearly murdered by my father.

Yes, those were dreadful. They carved out years of healing, Scripture, therapy, and more forgiveness than I thought the human soul could hold. But my most psychologically traumatic moment came in a different room altogether. One painted not in blood, but in perception.

My drug addiction had spun out of control. I was being evicted. Fired. Again. I had nowhere to go, no one to call, and a head full of voices, both mine and not, mocking me at the end of every curated, accusing finger. So I did what addicts do: I ran. Not to escape death, but to become unfindable within it. If I could just push myself over the edge of reality, maybe the pain would disappear too.

But God had other plans. And so did the devil.

In the early morning hours, in a house near Houghton, Johannesburg, I landed at the edge of one more hiding place. A borrowed room. A few bodies scattered across the bed and floor. My car, loaded with medication and clothes, parked outside. My money? Gone. My drugs? Feeding the crowd. I was buying kindness, or so I told myself.

Instead, I bought their contempt.

Cornered, literally, back to the meeting point of two walls—I listened to a chorus of insults, name-calling, and betrayal. All the same accusations I’d heard my whole life, now spoken by people high on the very substances I had shared. Their hypocrisy didn’t matter. Their words still cut. They judged me from their perspective, without knowing me at all.

Except for one voice.

“Leave him alone. Can’t you see he’s scared? He’s a good guy. He’s done nothing to you.”

And in that moment, something broke open, not just in me, but around me. The split wasn’t just between me and them. It was between how they saw me. Same person. Same room. Same actions.

Two stories.

Two verdicts.

Two truths.

It took me years to see what that night revealed. But now, I see it everywhere.

The Middle of the Feast

“Now about the middle of the feast, Jesus went up into the temple and taught… And there was much complaining among the people concerning Him. Some said, ‘He is good’; others said, ‘No, on the contrary, He deceives the people.’”

(John 7:14, 12)

This is what we do with Jesus.

We split.

We say we’re judging Him, but really, we’re revealing ourselves. Just as in Houghton, where I sat between suspicion and compassion, Jesus walks into the temple not to perform, but to expose perception itself.

And He does it “in the middle of the feast.”

He always enters in the middle.

In the middle of the crowd, not to be seen, but to see. In the middle of creation, where quantum physicists now tell us that the act of observation collapses possibilities into outcomes.¹ In the middle of your trauma, not waiting for the end, but meeting you in the chaos.

Because the middle is where masks slip. It’s where humans stop posing and start revealing. It’s where truth walks in, and the world splits open.

The Observer Effect and the Mirror of Christ

You may have heard it said that “everyone sees a different truth because everyone is creating what they see.” It’s a half-true, half-hijacked interpretation of quantum physics.

Yes, in quantum theory, the observer effect tells us that subatomic particles change behaviour when measured. The act of observation determines the path taken.¹

But that doesn’t mean truth is created by perception.

It means truth is revealed through the lens of the observer.²

And Jesus knew this long before science caught up.

He walks into the feast in John 7 not to make a spectacle, but to let each person’s heart collapse their own wavefunction.

Some said, “He is good.”

Others, “He deceives.”

Same Messiah.

Different mirrors.

Like matter responding to light, Jesus responds not to attention, but to intent.

“If anyone wants to do His will, he shall know concerning the doctrine…”

(John 7:17)

That’s the key. Wanting truth is what makes you recognise it.

“How Does This Man Know Letters?” – The Academic Defence Mechanism

The crowd marvels.

Not because Jesus says something outrageous, but because He says it too well.

“How does this man know letters, having never studied?”

Translation:

“He didn’t go through our system. So how can He possibly have authority?”

Sound familiar?

We still do this.

If someone isn’t stamped by the right institution, credentialed by the right tribe, or echoing the right jargon, we dismiss them, no matter how much wisdom burns in their bones.³

Carl Trueman observes that modern identity is shaped not just by who we are, but by what institutions affirm us.⁴

But Jesus isn’t performing theology for applause. He’s revealing it for glory.

The Glory Test

“He who speaks from himself seeks his own glory; but He who seeks the glory of the One who sent Him is true, and no unrighteousness is in Him.”

(John 7:18)

This is the final line. The sharpest one. The one no ideology can pass.

Every preacher.

Every philosopher.

Every identity movement.

Every blog like this one.

Who’s getting the glory?

This is the test that splits humanity, not just between good and evil, but between those who speak to be seen, and those who speak so God can be known.⁵

Malcolm Muggeridge once said that the greatest truths are often met with laughter or rage, depending on whether you recognise your reflection.⁶

And Then He Spoke…

I am clean now.

Free of addiction.

Not because I climbed out of the chaos, but because Jesus walked into it.

He saw what others didn’t. He heard the voices I tried to silence.

And He didn’t say, “You’re too broken.”

He said, “I’ll meet you in the middle.”

Not at the altar.

Not at the finish line.

But in the middle of a stolen night, in the middle of a broken room,

between the whispers of “He is good” and “He deceives.”

And then He taught.

And then I listened.

And now I write.

Questions:

When truth stands quietly in the middle of your life, what do you call Him?

Does your perception of Jesus reveal more about Him, or more about you?

Have you ever silenced someone because they didn’t carry the “right” credentials?

What glory are you seeking when you speak? Can you recognise truth even if it arrives without permission?

Practical Application:

Next time you feel divided over someone, ask: What does my reaction reveal about me?

Spend time with John 7 this week.

Note who speaks, who whispers, and who waits. Watch for the middle: the middle of a conversation, a disagreement, a feast, or a failure. That’s often where Jesus shows up.

Ask God to reveal whether you’re speaking from yourself, or sent by Someone higher.