One column of truth cannot hold an institution of ideas from

Hear these words of Bryant H. McGill, heavy with the weight of wisdom and sharpened by experience: “One column of truth cannot hold an institution of ideas from falling into ignorance. It is wiser that a person of prudence and purpose save his strength for battles that can be won.” These are not the idle musings of a dreamer, but the seasoned reflections of one who has seen the futility of struggling against walls too vast for one hand to bear. It is both a warning and a guiding light, urging men and women to discern where their strength is best spent.

When McGill speaks of a column of truth, he summons the image of a great temple, its roof supported by pillars. If only one pillar stands, no matter how strong, it cannot bear the weight of the whole. So too in human society, or in the realm of ideas—one truth alone, however bright, cannot prevent the collapse of a vast institution that has already rotted into ignorance. This is a sobering truth, for it teaches that not all battles are worth fighting, and not all structures are worth saving.

To save strength for battles that can be won is not cowardice, but wisdom. Many a soul has burned itself out fighting against fortresses of folly, pouring years of life into efforts that yield no fruit. The wise one, however, chooses carefully: he plants his seeds in fertile soil, not in sand. He strikes where the wall is weakest, not where it is thickest. In this way, he multiplies his victories, while the reckless warrior wastes his energy in futility.

History shows us the truth of these words. Consider the tale of Galileo Galilei, who lifted up the truth of the cosmos against the mighty weight of the Church’s doctrine. Though his discovery of the heavens was correct, his voice alone could not hold up an institution of ideas that had already descended into dogma. The column of his truth was not enough to bear the heavy roof of ignorance. Yet his wisdom lay not only in speaking, but in retreating when necessary, saving his strength for survival. He yielded outwardly but did not silence his truth, and in time, the world caught up to his vision. His battle was not lost, but deferred until the ground was ready to receive it.

From this we learn that prudence is the companion of courage. To fight blindly is to squander the gift of life, but to discern carefully is to honor both truth and purpose. The flame of truth must be shielded until the day when others can join it, until many columns rise together to bear the weight. This is not surrender, but strategy, for the wise warrior fights with both heart and mind.

The lesson for us, O listeners, is plain: do not waste your spirit trying to rescue what has already collapsed under the weight of its own falsehoods. Instead, invest your energy where change is possible, where your strength can kindle transformation. Choose your causes with care. Defend truths that can grow, nurture the fields where your labor will bear fruit, and let the ruins of folly fall as they must.

Practical steps are these: before you fight, pause and ask, “Will my effort here build or preserve something enduring, or am I holding up a crumbling wall that must fall?” Seek allies, for one column alone is fragile, but many together are unshakable. Save your deepest strength for the work that uplifts humanity, for the battles that shape the generations to come. And remember always that prudence does not diminish your courage—it sharpens it, so that every strike of your life is meaningful.

Thus, McGill’s words ring as both caution and call: do not be disheartened when the grand structures of ignorance collapse, for it is not your task to save them. Instead, build anew where truth can stand, and fight the battles where victory is possible. In this way, your strength will not be wasted, and your life will echo with the power of purpose.