It’s one of my earliest memories: riding in the back of the family minivan and looking out the window. The distance wasn’t usually long. But it could feel like an eternity. But there's one particular minivan joyride I recall. My eyes were scanning the Midwest country looking for something, anything for entertainment. A moment later I found it: something entertaining enough. I began to do what every parent fears: staring at the sun.

The idea that it probably wasn’t the best idea tempted me. But something else compelled me to keep looking. I became mesmerized by a strange phenomenon. As I sat there staring at the sun a black ring formed around its orangey-yellow center. It puzzled me, so I thought I’d try it again the following day. It was short-lived this time. Before I burned the retinas out of my little head my mom caught me. She gave me a loving but stern warning about the dangers of staring into the sun. I’m sure I'd heard about it before. But until it was explicitly directed toward me, I didn’t grasp the danger of staring at the sun. When I heard her say I could go blind it was enough to put an end to that activity.

And never again have I stared into the sun.

It’s a perfect example of the blessing of knowledge and the effect it has on those who possess it. Once you know something, it’s hard to live outside of it.

Of course, you see the laissez-faire lifestyle all around. You don't have to look far to find people living life ignorant of common information. But before I pass judgment I must ask whether it’s a rebellion against what they know or a lack of knowledge.

When the CDC says a material has carcinogenic effects the public generally heeds the warning. Consider the example of cigarettes. It wasn't good for cigarette sales when we discovered the connection between cigarette smoke and lung cancer. Of course, not everyone stopped smoking. But it forced people to make an informed choice.

An overweight person makes fewer stops at the drive-through when he's told his fast-food lifestyle is going to kill him. It makes sense: when you’re issued a warning, you respond accordingly.

But does the curse of knowledge apply universally? I live in Iowa, and every year from March to May we experience storms that often produce tornados. For most of the general population, when they hear a tornado siren, they heed the warning and seek shelter.

But there are some who don’t for whatever reason. Maybe they think they have enough time. The man mowing his lawn, for example, might gamble and finish his yard work before going into the basement. Then you have some who even doubt the warning and carry on as usual.

The difference between the person who seeks shelter and the one who doesn’t is what they’ve done with the warning. For one, the warning is conviction. But for the other, it’s a piece of information. It doesn’t move them to change.

When the truth sinks deep enough it becomes conviction forcing you to act upon it. Otherwise, it remains information, like a raindrop sliding off an impermeable surface.

The saturation of truth determines the haste with which you act. A little will cause you to act. A lot will cause you to act promptly. But if it doesn’t sink in at all, you won’t do anything with it. But if that information sinks in at all, you’re compelled to act one way or another. You may try to ignore it, but you can’t. Going back on what you believe to be true will work its way to the surface. The buoyancy of truth is too great to be ignored indefinitely.