I recently began reading C.S. Lewis’s Mere Christianity. I’d often heard Lewis cited as one of the most influential theologians of the 20th century, and was very interested in reading some of his non-fiction work (I loved the Narnia books as a child and watched the BBC’s adaptation of them so many times my parents probably wanted to vomit). As much as I’m enjoying Lewis’s approach to the matter of the Christian faith, I couldn’t help but wonder what his critics had to say about it; he is so matter-of-fact in his tone that there is no way his argument hasn’t ruffled some feathers.
So I looked into it. And what started off as casually reading a few critical responses to his points turned into an evening’s worth of reading arguments back and forth on the matter of science versus religion, which inevitably boils down to our origins- did we come about by chance, or was something or Someone else behind it?
While I love science, and I love theology, I’ve not studied enough on either subject to offer any kind of intellectual opinion on such matters. I’m sure all it would take is a passionate, well-read skeptic and I’d be toast in any battle of the mind (at least on the spot). Fortunately, it’s not my goal to win anybody over to my side with some epic speech on the logical reasons why I know God for sure exists. Because I don’t know for sure. I’ve read about irreducible complexity and the holes in that argument, I’ve read about natural selection and what its critics have to say. I can make the argument that science cannot prove God does not exist, and I’m sure someone can throw back at me that science also hasn’t proven that unicorns don’t exist. I’ve run both sides of the argument through my head so many times that even my inner skeptic is begging me to shut it.
Still, without fail, once or twice a year I find myself in a situation where I am forced to revisit the question, “Why do I believe in God?” And usually, I answer with some canned response about the “proof being everywhere” and, “just look at the complexities,” and, “yadda yadda yadda…” But this time around, my response actually took me by surprise:
I believe in God because He makes me feel whole.
I know that’s probably a pitiful answer to some people. Heck, even I’m annoyed by the fact that my biggest reason for believing in the idea of some kind of supernatural being that has apparently offered no empirical evidence to support His existence has to do with the way I “feel,” but there you have it. Everything after that is just icing on the cake. It’s really good icing, but icing nonetheless.
Now don’t get me wrong; I will never stop questioning or challenging the beliefs I hold, but I’ve found after years of rigorous throttlings of my faith, it’s only gotten stronger. The movie’s not ruined for me just because I know how it was made–it adds a whole new layer. And with that, I bid you adieu.