October 12, 2025 "Anchored in Truth" Daniel 1:8-21 Rev, Dr. Rhonda Abbott Blevins
Anchored in Truth
Daniel 1:8-21
Rev. Dr. Rhonda Abbott Blevins
October 12, 2025
But Daniel resolved that he would not defile himself with the royal rations of food and wine, so he asked the palace master to allow him not to defile himself. Now God granted Daniel favor and compassion from the palace master. The palace master said to Daniel, “I am afraid of my lord the king; he has appointed your food and your drink. If he should see you in poorer condition than the other young men of your age, you would endanger my head with the king.” Then Daniel asked the guard whom the palace master had appointed over Daniel, Hananiah, Mishael, and Azariah: “Please test your servants for ten days. Let us be given vegetables to eat and water to drink. You can then compare our appearance with the appearance of the young men who eat the royal rations and deal with your servants according to what you observe.” So he agreed to this proposal and tested them for ten days. At the end of ten days it was observed that they appeared better and fatter than all the young men who had been eating the royal rations. So the guard continued to withdraw their royal rations and the wine they were to drink and gave them vegetables. To these four young men God gave knowledge and skill in every aspect of literature and wisdom; Daniel also had insight into all visions and dreams. At the end of the time that the king had set for them to be brought in, the palace master brought them into the presence of Nebuchadnezzar, and the king spoke with them. Among them all, no one was found to compare with Daniel, Hananiah, Mishael, and Azariah; therefore they were stationed in the king’s court. In every matter of wisdom and understanding concerning which the king inquired of them, he found them ten times better than all the magicians and enchanters in his whole kingdom. And Daniel continued there until the first year of King Cyrus.
______
“You can’t handle the truth!”
Perhaps you recognize this iconic line by famed actor Jack Nicholson from the 1992 box office hit, A Few Good Men.
(Spoiler alert!) In the movie, two U.S. Marines are accused of murdering a fellow Marine at the Guantanamo Bay Naval Base. Their defense attorney, Navy Lieutenant Daniel Kaffee (played by Tom Cruise), initially believes they should accept a plea deal, but gradually uncovers evidence suggesting the Marines were following orders in what’s called a “Code Red”—an unofficial form of extrajudicial punishment.
The climactic courtroom confrontation occurs when Kaffee puts the base commander, Colonel Nathan Jessup (played by Jack Nicholson), on the witness stand. Under intense questioning, Kaffee demands to know whether Jessup ordered the Code Red. When Kaffee insists he wants the truth, Jessup erupts with the famous line, “You can’t handle the truth!” He then delivers a lengthy monologue defending his actions as necessary for national security and maintaining discipline, ultimately admitting he did order the Code Red. With this confession, Colonel Jessup was arrested for his role in the Marine’s death.
“You can’t handle the truth!” said Jessup to Kaffee.
But if we listen—really listen—we can hear Jessup saying this to each of us—to all of us—living in this VUCA generation (volatile, uncertain, complex, and ambiguous): “You can’t handle the truth.”
Last week, in the first sermon of the series, “Anchored: Finding Our Ground When the World Feels Unmoored,” I introduced the idea that we are living an age of “polycrisis”—
a web of interconnected crises that some believe is civilization-wide. Think of the myriad problems humanity is facing: climate change, ecosystem collapse, global pandemics, violent conflict, economic stagnation, unaffordable costs of living, food and energy scarcity, weakened institutions, systemic inequality, and the breakdown of democracies around the world.
Among the many crises I did not name in this list, is the crisis of “Truth Decay.” It was the RAND corporation that gave us this phrase—“Truth Decay”—suggesting that over the past twenty years, there has been a diminishing reliance on facts and analysis in public life. They cite four reasons for the erosion of truth in our culture:
1. Disagreement about objective facts - Even when data is clear, people can’t agree on basic facts
2. Blurring opinion and fact - The line between what is factual and what is opinion becomes unclear
3. Opinion overwhelming fact - Opinion and personal experience dominate over factual information
4. Declining trust in institutions - Decreased trust in formerly respected sources of information
Perhaps this is why Oxford Dictionary chose “Post-truth era” as their Word of the Year in 2016 because of a 2000% spike in usage that year. Can you think of what was happening in 2016 that would cause a 2000% spike in usage of “Post-truth era?” It was the year of Brexit. It was the year of a contentious U.S. presidential election. It was a year in which it became crystal clear that public opinion is shaped less by objective facts and more by appeals to emotion and personal belief.
In other words (in the words of Colonel Jessup): We “can’t handle the truth!”
Given this “truth decay” in this “post-truth” moment when the truth feels unmoored, how might our faith anchor us?
When I think of “truth warriors” from scripture, I find no better example than the Old Testament figure of Daniel.
When Daniel arrived in Babylon as a teenager, everything had been stripped away. His home—gone. His temple—destroyed. His nation—conquered. He was given a new name, a new language, a new education designed to make him forget who he was. The Babylonian empire wanted to erase his identity and remake him in their image.
But Daniel resolved in his heart that he would not be defiled.
This wasn’t a one-time decision. It was a lifetime commitment. And what’s remarkable about Daniel is that we can trace his faithfulness across seven decades of service in a pagan empire. From his teenage years in chapter 1 through his old age in chapter 6, Daniel shows us what it looks like to be anchored in truth for the long haul.
DANIEL'S FIRST STAND
Chapter 1 begins with what seems like a small thing—the king’s food. Daniel and his friends were selected for an elite training program. They’d eat the king’s delicacies, drink the king’s wine, study in the king’s academy. Most young men would see this as the opportunity of a lifetime.
But Daniel saw the compromise. The food likely violated Jewish dietary laws. More than that, eating from the king’s table was a symbol—it meant declaring allegiance to Babylon’s gods and Babylon’s ways.
So Daniel proposed an alternative: “Test us for ten days. Give us vegetables and water. Then compare us to the other young men.”
Notice Daniel’s wisdom here. He wasn’t reckless or confrontational. He didn’t storm into the palace demanding his rights. He was respectful, strategic, faithful. He found a way to honor God without unnecessarily antagonizing the powers that be.
And God honored Daniel’s stand. After ten days, Daniel and his friends looked healthier than all the others. Daniel’s faithfulness didn’t limit his effectiveness—it multiplied it.
But here’s what matters most: Daniel didn’t just pass one test and coast on that victory. This was the beginning of a pattern that would define his entire life.
A LIFETIME OF FAITHFULNESS
Fast forward to chapter 2. King Nebuchadnezzar has a troubling dream and demands his wise men tell him both the dream and its interpretation—an impossible task. When they can’t, the king orders all the wise men executed, including Daniel.
Does Daniel panic? Does he compromise to save his skin? No. He asks for time, gathers his friends to pray, and God reveals both the dream and its meaning. Daniel interprets the dream, gives glory to God—not to Babylon’s gods—and is promoted to high office.
He could have taken credit. He could have played the political game. Instead, he used his platform to point to the God of truth.
Then comes chapter 3. Daniel’s three friends—Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego—face their own test. The king erects a golden statue and commands everyone to bow down and worship it. Everyone complies. Except these three.
They’re given one more chance: “Bow down or be thrown into the blazing furnace.”
Listen to their response: “O Nebuchadnezzar, we have no need to present a defense to you in this matter. If our God whom we serve is able to deliver us from the furnace of blazing fire and out of your hand, O king, let him deliver us. But if not, be it known to you, O king, that we will not serve your gods and we will not worship the golden statue that you have set up.”
“But if not.” Even if God doesn’t rescue us, even if standing for truth costs us everything, we will not bow.
They learned this from Daniel. They watched him refuse the king’s food as teenagers. They saw him risk his life to interpret the dream. They knew what it meant to be anchored in truth regardless of consequences.
And what happened? They were thrown into the furnace—but they weren’t alone. The king saw a fourth figure in the flames, “like a son of the gods.” God didn’t prevent the trial, but God was present in it. They emerged without even the smell of smoke on their clothes.
DANIEL IN OLD AGE
Now jump ahead several decades to chapter 6. Babylon has fallen. Persia rules now. Daniel is in his eighties—probably close to ninety. He’s served under multiple empires, multiple kings. He’s been faithful through regime changes, political upheavals, cultural shifts.
And he’s still standing for truth.
The new king, Darius, recognizes Daniel’s wisdom and plans to set him over the entire kingdom. This makes the other officials jealous. So they conspire against him. But here’s what they say: “We shall not find any ground for complaint against this Daniel unless we find it in connection with the law of his God.”
Think about that. After seventy years in a pagan empire—seventy years of political pressure, cultural compromise, career temptations—his enemies could find no fault in him except his faithfulness to God. His integrity was so consistent, so unshakeable, that the only way to trap him was through his devotion to his God.
So they convince King Darius to make a decree: For thirty days, no one can pray to any god or human except the king himself. Anyone who violates this will be thrown into the lions’ den.
And what does Daniel do? The same thing he’s done three times a day for seventy years. He goes to his upper room, opens the windows toward Jerusalem, kneels down, and prays. Publicly. Openly. Exactly as he’s always done.
He’s arrested. The king is devastated—he’s been manipulated and now must enforce his own law. Daniel is thrown to the lions. But that night, God shuts the lions’ mouths. The next morning, Daniel emerges unharmed.
And here’s what Daniel says to the king: “My God sent his angel and shut the lions’ mouths so that they would not hurt me, because I was found blameless before him; and also before you, O king, I have done no wrong.”
Blameless. After seventy years in Babylon and Persia, Daniel could stand before the king and declare his innocence—not because he was perfect, but because he was faithful. Because he had anchored himself in truth and never let go.
DANIEL UNDERSTOOD SOMETHING PROFOUND
Daniel’s unwavering commitment to truth across seven decades wasn’t just stubbornness or moral superiority. Daniel understood something that the great theologian Augustine would articulate centuries later: “Where I found truth, there found I my God, who is the truth itself.”
Daniel wasn’t just standing for principles—he was standing in the presence of God. Every time he chose truth over compromise, he was choosing God. Every time he prayed toward Jerusalem, he was anchoring himself in the source of all truth. Every time he refused to defile himself, he was declaring: my identity comes from God, not from empire.
And these stories of Daniel point us forward to someone even greater.
JESUS: THE EMBODIMENT OF TRUTH
Fast forward several centuries from Daniel’s Persia to another occupied territory—first-century Jerusalem under Roman rule. Jesus stands before Pontius Pilate, the Roman governor who holds the power of life and death.
Pilate asks, “Are you the King of the Jews?”
Jesus redirects the conversation: “For this I was born, and for this I came into the world, to testify to the truth. Everyone who belongs to the truth listens to my voice.” (John 18:37)
And then Pilate asks the question that echoes through every post-truth generation: “What is truth?”
It’s the same cynical question our culture asks today—this time of truth decay and “alternate facts.” Pilate represents our post-truth era perfectly—truth is whatever serves power, whatever wins, whatever I say it is.
But Jesus doesn’t give a philosophical answer. Because Jesus doesn’t just teach truth. Jesus embodies the truth. “I am the way, the truth, and the life.”
Pilate was staring at Truth personified and didn’t recognize it. Jesus’ commitment to truth led him to the cross. The powers couldn’t handle the truth he embodied. They crucified him for it. But that same truth—that same Jesus—rose from the dead. Truth may be crucified, but it rises again.
So how do we anchor ourselves in truth like Jesus did? Like Daniel did?
Let me suggest three practices, drawn from Daniel’s seventy-year example:
First: Resolve Before the Test Comes. Daniel resolved as a teenager that he would not be defiled. That resolution carried him through seventy years of tests. Decide now what you’ll stand for. Don't wait for the crisis.
Second: Establish Daily Rhythms of Truth. Three times a day, every day, for seventy years, Daniel prayed. It wasn’t occasional. It was who he was. Immerse yourself in daily practice that grounds you in the truth like meditation, contemplative prayer, sacred reading. Let truth form you.
Third: Find Community That Reinforces Truth. Daniel had Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego. They stood together. You need furnace friends—people who will stand with you when the heat is on. Maybe, Chapel, we could be furnace friends for one another as we navigate the treacherous waters of this post-truth era.
WE CAN HANDLE THE TRUTH
Earlier I suggested that maybe Colonel Jessup was right when he said, “You can’t handle the truth!” But Daniel did. For seventy years. And we can too—when we’re anchored in Christ, the Truth himself.
Augustine understood: “Where I found truth, there found I my God, who is the truth itself.” Every time we choose truth, we encounter God.
So be a Daniel. Drop anchor in Christ. The Truth is calling. Will you listen? Will you stand? Will you be anchored—not just today, but for a lifetime?
Amen.