There are two ways for something to be true—it can be subjectively true or it can be objectively true. For example, if I say, “Strawberry ice cream is absolutely delicious,” I have said something true, because this statement accurately reflects my own tastes. Notice, however, that what I have said is not really about the ice cream per se. I have not made a statement about an object outside of myself. Rather I have said something about the subject—namely, me.

In other words, I have spoken a subjective truth. If you didn’t happen to like strawberry ice cream and favored butter pecan instead, it would be strange for me to argue that you were wrong, or that you had spoken falsely. After all, one’s personal tastes in ice cream are just that—they’re personal. Each individual is entitled to his or her own preference … whether it is for ice cream, or style of dress, or what have you.

But, let’s say, I make a statement about numbers. If I claim “two plus two equals four,” then I am speaking a different kind of truth than merely stating my personal opinion about ice cream. I am now communicating a belief that I hold about an external, objective truth.

If you disagreed and argued that “two plus two equals five,” I could legitimately state that you are wrong. In fact, I could demonstrate that you are wrong by providing you with empirical evidence.

This is the primary difference between something being subjectively true and being objectively true. Subjective truths vary according to individual tastes; objective truths do not. The statement “two plus two equals four” is either true or false. It is never a matter of personal preference.

I mention this distinction because, occasionally, I will hear people suggest that morality is made up of subjective truths. That is, when faced with an ethical decision, I might choose to do one thing, and you might choose to do another … but I do not have the right to question your choice, nor should you question mine.

This is what is called “moral relativism,” and it is extremely popular these days. However, I find it to be profoundly troubling. When morality is reduced to personal tastes, then the tail is wagging the dog. Instead of morality constraining our pleasures (“I want to do this, but I know I shouldn’t”), our pleasures now define morality (“I want to do this, and therefore, I am going to find a way to rationalize it”).

Please do not misunderstand—there are some ethical decisions that are clearly a matter of personal judgment. The Apostle Paul observed that some people eat food offered to idols without a second thought, while others are deeply offended by the practice. “Therefore,” said Paul, “let each person make up his or her own mind.”

But this is a far cry from claiming that there are no moral absolutes. If morality becomes merely a matter of personal preference, then how is it any different from total anarchy? To be sure, people can still claim that there are no universal truths, no moral absolutes … but, for me, this is a little like claiming “two plus two can equal whatever you want it to.”