Whispers of the Faithful Few

The Tears of Things

It’s easy to believe that truth must come from the powerful, the established, or those who control the narrative. But history reveals something quite different. Power distorts truth, so God plants and develops it at the edge, where the power-hungry least expect it. [1] Truth consistently emerges from the margins — from those without influence, without position, and often without a voice. The prophets knew this well. They spoke from deserts, from exile, from places of obscurity, yet their words carried the wisdom that empires ignored (Amos 7:14-15; Jeremiah 1:4-10). The spiritual giants of every tradition — the contemplatives, the mystics, and the quiet revolutionaries — remind us that truth thrives where power is absent. It’s as if God knew that anything planted in the center would be twisted and manipulated (Matthew 23:23-24). Instead, divine wisdom flourishes where ambition and self-interest cannot reach.

And perhaps that’s why God has never seemed particularly worried about convincing everyone. The truth will always be too much for everybody, but God seems content with a few getting the point in each era. [1] This has always been God’s way — trusting that a handful of open hearts are enough to carry the message forward (Matthew 13:11-12). God doesn’t seem preoccupied with converting the masses or winning popular approval. Instead, divine wisdom quietly takes root in those who are willing to see with different eyes (Isaiah 6:9-10). This has been true in every age — whether it’s a few desert fathers preserving spiritual wisdom, a small group of abolitionists confronting the horrors of slavery, or the quiet voices of peacebuilders today. The truth doesn’t need to be accepted by all — it only needs a few to understand it deeply and live it fully (Romans 11:5).

But this truth can be unsettling, especially for those convinced of their own righteousness. Divine largesse will always be too much love for the masses and those who are convinced of their own innocence, but that does not mean divine love is not at work. [1] God’s love is expansive, uncontrollable, and deeply unsettling to those who insist on keeping score. It reaches those whom society deems unworthy, those whose failures seem too great, and those who exist outside the boundaries of respectability (Luke 5:30-32). It’s a love that cannot be contained, a love that refuses to play by the rules of exclusion (Matthew 20:1-16). And yet, this same love is easily overlooked by those who feel certain they’ve earned their place in God’s favor (Luke 18:9-14). Divine love breaks down the very categories we use to divide and control (Ephesians 2:14-16).

This is why God’s work often feels hidden, slow, and indirect. The truth will always be too much for everybody, but God seems content with a few getting the point in each era. [1] Rather than forcing a great awakening or demanding instant change, God seems willing to wait (Habakkuk 2:3). Divine love is patient, trusting that small seeds of truth will eventually bear fruit (Mark 4:26-29). Transformation unfolds quietly — in conversations that seem insignificant, in relationships that deepen over time, and in those moments when clarity dawns unexpectedly (Luke 24:13-35). God’s work is never rushed because God trusts that what is true will ultimately endure (Isaiah 55:10-11).

This quiet unfolding stands in stark contrast to the systems that dominate our world. The normal power systems of our world worship themselves and not God. [1] These systems thrive on control, on reinforcing their own authority, and on shaping narratives that serve their interests (Revelation 13:4-8). They resist self-reflection and silence dissenting voices (Matthew 23:29-31). True prophets — those who speak truth in love — are rarely welcomed within these systems (John 15:18-20). Instead, they are often dismissed, ridiculed, or pushed aside because their words expose the corruption that power refuses to see (Jeremiah 20:7-10). The prophets’ voices remain urgent, not because they command authority, but because they awaken us to something deeper — a reality that cannot be manipulated or controlled (Amos 5:10-13).

And yet, God continues to rely on those willing to listen and respond. God is saving all of history and all of humanity, but only with the direct, conscious help of a faithful few. [1] While divine love extends to all, it still requires a response (Deuteronomy 30:19). It takes courage to live from a place of trust rather than fear, to choose compassion over control, and to embody wisdom in a world driven by self-interest (Micah 6:8). Throughout history, it has always been the faithful few — the ones willing to risk, to question, and to surrender — who become the vessels of transformation (Matthew 5:13-16).

This is the paradox at the heart of God’s way. This revelation of the remnant is the clear opposite of our notion of majority rule, authority rule, Christendom, or even 'one person, one vote.' [1] God’s movement is never about domination or winning the most followers (Luke 13:20-21). It doesn’t rely on popularity or public consensus (1 Kings 19:11-18). Instead, it flows through those who are willing to listen deeply, live quietly, and remain faithful even when their path seems insignificant (Matthew 6:1-4). God’s love doesn’t need the majority to win — it simply needs a few willing hearts to hold the vision and carry it forward (Isaiah 10:20-22).

[1] Richard Rohr, The Tears of Things