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I often hear someone say something like this: “It doesn’t really matter what you believe, as long as you believe something sincerely. All religions are basically about the same thing. They just look at it differently.” When I hear someone say this, I can always sympathize with the person saying it. I really do understand why they have come to this conclusion.

There are so many nice, sincere people who hold completely different views of the world and of spiritual things. How could so many of them be wrong? How could only one of them be right? We don’t want to offend any of them. We don’t want to discount their sincerely held beliefs. It’s just easier to say they’re all right. Besides, when we start saying that one is right and another is wrong, we sound arrogant, and this can lead to conflict, even violence.

It’s a generous, pragmatic and, seemingly, peaceable solution to simply say, “all faiths are equally true.” But we need to understand that even saying that every faith claim is equally true is a faith claim in itself, and it has some significant problems to overcome if it is to be reasonable.

First of all, in most cases sincerity implies exclusivity. If you get a Christian, a Muslim, and a Buddhist in a room and ask them if the beliefs of the others are equally as true as their own, none of them would say “yes.” In most cases, none of them would expect any of the others to say “yes” either. They understand that commitment to a set of beliefs means that you consider them to be true. Other beliefs, to whatever extent they contradict your own, you consider to be false. Sincerity requires exclusivity. If you suggest that a person should accept the beliefs of others as equal to his/her own beliefs, you are asking them to hold their own beliefs with less conviction, less sincerity.

Even when we say, “I believe that all faith claims are equally valid,” we are making an exclusive faith claim. I have found that the people who are least tolerant of my beliefs are often those who most loudly cry for tolerance. They are offended that my belief logically requires me to assume that the beliefs of others, when they contradict my own, are false. And yet, even as they cry, “intolerant,” they are asserting that their belief (that all faiths are equally true) is true to the exclusion of my belief (that my faith is ultimately true). They can sometimes be as angry in defense of their position as any fundamentalist Christian I’ve ever seen.

So, while I sympathize with my friends who want to avoid the issue of truth completely by saying every belief is equally true, I can’t let them off that easily. We can be civil and respectful of others, and we should. We can be tolerant of people who hold beliefs that are different from ours, and it is only right that we should be so. But to claim that every belief is true is to say that no belief is true. When we do this, we have sacrificed respect for the sake of civility, and reasonableness for the sake of tolerance. Our well-intentioned generosity has sucked the hope for any meaning whatsoever out of the faith of everyone on the planet.

My dialogue with the world around me doesn’t stop with biology. I also must address questions of history: How do you explain the rise of Christianity from a small sect whose founder was crucified as a criminal to the established religion of the Roman Empire in the course of three centuries? Then there are questions of values and morality: On what basis do we say that any behavior is right or wrong? And questions of spirituality: How do you explain that, for all our sophistication, modern Western people still persist in their need for a spiritual element to their lives? And questions of significance: “Why do we feel compelled to find meaning in life? Why do we, as human beings, aspire to a purpose beyond ourselves?”

A reasonable faith is one that takes these questions into account in search of the set of lenses that most adequately answers all of them all. CS Lewis said, “I believe in God, not because I can see Him, but because through Him, I see everything else more clearly.”

Can I prove the existence of God scientifically? No. But neither can I scientifically prove any even in history actually happened, or that humans are more morally responsible than animals, or that our lives have any meaning at all.

If we only accept that which we can observe with our senses, we must acknowledge that our reliance on our senses is a leap of faith. It is perhaps a well-founded leap, but a leap nevertheless. If we only accept as true that which is logically demonstrable, we have put our faith in the capacity of our minds to arrive always at the right conclusion. If we require that any truth claim be scientifically verified, we are insisting that all that exists falls in the realm of the material world that science studies. This is the greatest leap of all.

As part of my journey through middle age, I’ve become acquainted with Optometry. I go to my doctor, sit in his chair, and spend 20 minutes looking through various combinations of lenses. Over and over, he asks me, “Which is clearer, A or B?” Over and over he adjusts, switches, exchanges the lenses until, finally, he comes up with the combination that, more than any other, gives me a clear view of the world.

This is the kind of dialogue we need to have with our experience of the world in our journey to a reasonable faith. If I choose a scientific, positivistic, strongly rationalistic view of truth, I must ask myself, “Does it make sense of everything I see?” I have concluded that it does not.

For example, the theory of evolution claims to give a framework, and the doctrines of natural selection a mechanism, for the gradual development of species. Many, though not all, scientists believe that these adequately explain the “what” and the “how” of the natural world. What they do not explain is the “why?” Why did the complexity and order that we see spring from chaos? For this answer, some adopt a philosophy of naturalism, and/or postulate an infinite number of universes either existing simultaneously or sequentially. All of these are faith claims, not demonstrable scientific fact. They are assumptions made by people who have made a prior decision that they will only seek explanations that do not include God. Then, there is the ultimate “why” question: Why are we here? What is the meaning of it all? To this question, science has really nothing to say.

Let’s get the disappointment behind us from the start. If you expect me finally, definitively, once and for all, to “prove” that God exists, and that the Christian way of looking at the world is the correct way, I’m afraid I must let you down before we ever begin. If I could, in a demonstrable and verifiable way, prove the existence of God, I would have to take the word “faith” out of the title of this blog.

So, am I conceding that my faith is irrational, or unreasonable? Absolutely not. I am just being honest about the nature of knowledge, which puts me miles ahead of many who would demand a “proof.”

The truth is, we don’t know anything without accepting some things by faith. Let’s say we live by on the principle, “I must see it to believe it.” We must acknowledge that we have taken a leap of faith in our sense of sight in at least two ways. First, we trust that we always see things as they really are, an assumption that is put to the test every time a good illusionist performs. Second, we have assumed that nothing exists outside the realm of our physical senses. This one is even harder. Can you prove scientifically that the only reality is physical reality? Of course not. This is a faith presupposition of anyone who demands scientific proof for any and every truth claim.

No one, but no one, lives without faith. To suggest otherwise is to be either dishonest or deluded. The question we must ask is, “Which faith makes the best sense of the world around us, and of life as we live it?”

I happen to be a believer in Jesus Christ. I don’t think it’s because I was brainwashed as a child, even though I do still hold to a faith similar to that of my parents. At some point, or perhaps at many incremental points along the way, I made their faith my own. I’ve had seasons of doubt, like any person of faith. However, I don’t see those times as seasons of weakness, but of growth. As my faith was tested by other truth claims, nagging questions, or my own skepticism, I found that I emerged every time with a faith that was not battered, defeated or wrecked beyond repair, but one that was more robust, more mature, more reasonable.

I should be forthright in letting you know that I am what some might call a “religious professional.” I spent an even decade in a seminary, getting a couple of advanced degrees in fields of practical theology. I now teach in another seminary in the same fields. I have spent all of my adult life as a pastor, a teacher, and/or missionary. Most of the time, I hang out and talk with people who believe pretty much like I do. Our conversations are mostly about finer points of theology, or best practices in all the ways of “doing church” – all things that are of no interest to anyone outside a relatively small circle of “church people.”

This blog, however, is different. Here I would like to have a conversation not with my friends who consider themselves to be Christians, but with my friends who do not. A few months back, one such friend made a statement that has been rattling around in my head ever since: “I’m trying to understand why people believe in God.” If that’s a question that is bugging you, then you are exactly the person I hope will join this conversation.

I don’t intend to offer easy or pat answers, or to discount any honest question, or to attack any sincerely-held position. I do intend to try and have a frank conversation about faith with conventional wisdom and culture, and to explain why I have found the Christian world view to be the most coherent way to make sense of the hodgepodge of hopes and dreams, failures and triumphs, angst and aspirations that make up what we like to call “the human condition.”

There are plenty of skeptics around with ready answers to the question “Why does anyone believe in God?” In many cases, they conclude that believers must be simple-minded, naive, and deluded weaklings who, instead of evolving to become more sophisticated human beings like everyone else, cling to their faith as a crutch to help them limp through life in blissful ignorance. They are entitled to their opinion. But if you are an honest seeker who sincerely wants to know “why anyone believes in God,” you would probably not want to buy the answer of someone who doesn’t believe, without at least considering the answer of someone who does.

One thing I have learned is that, though all of our journeys are different, all of our journeys are also essentially the same. The path from doubt to faith passes through the same questions for everyone in the 21st Century West. It passes through intellectual questions like, “Hasn’t science rendered faith obsolete?” and “Isn’t the Bible unreliable and full of errors?” It also must traverse the terrain of more gut-level issues like, “Why is there evil and suffering in the world?” and “Can there be one true faith?” Ultimately, it will also have to explore the country of personal questions like “I’m a basically good person—why do I need to be forgiven?” or “I’m such a bad person—how could I ever be forgiven?” Some people blow right past all these stops along the way in a quick sprint to faith. Others leave the freeway at each exit, and need to resolve each question before moving on. One journey is not better than the other. What matters is that you stay on the journey that you need to travel.

I’m not an expert. I’m just a fellow traveler. But if you would like to walk with me for a while, I would certainly enjoy the company. I’m sure your insights and questions will test and strengthen me, and perhaps I might be able to make some contribution to your journey as well.

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