Today belief in God is often seen as naïvety. For many, believing in God is like believing in Santa Claus and the Easter bunny: nice, something for the kids, a warm nostalgia or a bitter memory, but not something that’s real, that stands up to hard scrutiny and indeed stands up to the dark doubts that sometimes linger below the surface of our faith. Where’s there evidence that God exists?
A true apologetics, I believe, needs at some point to be personal. So here are my own reasons why I continue to believe in God in the face of the agnosticism of our overly adult world and despite the dark nights that sometimes beset me.
First, I believe in God because I sense, at the deepest level of my being, that there’s an inalienable moral structure to things. Life, love and meaning are morally contoured. There’s an inalienable “law of karma” that’s experienced everywhere and in everything: good behaviour is its own happiness, just as bad behaviour is its own sorrow. Different religions word it differently, but the concept is at the heart of all religion and is in essence the very definition of morality: the measure you measure out will be the measure that’s measured back to you. That’s Jesus’s version of it, and it can be translated this way: the air you breathe out is the air you will re-inhale. Simply put: if we cut down too many trees we will soon be breathing in carbon monoxide. If we breathe out love, we will meet love. If we breathe out hatred and anger, we will soon enough find ourselves surrounded by hatred and anger. Reality is so structured that goodness brings goodness and sin brings sin.
I believe in God because blind chaos could not have designed things this way, to be innately moral. Only an intelligent Goodness could have built reality this way.
My next reason for believing in God is the existence of soul, intelligence, love, altruism and art. These could not have emerged simply from blind chaos, from billions and billions of cosmic bingo chips coming out of nothing, with no intelligent, loving force behind them, endlessly churning through billions of years. Random chaos, empty of all intelligence and love from its origins, could not have eventually produced soul and all that’s highest inside it: intelligence, love, altruism, spirituality and art.
Can our own hearts, and all that’s noble and precious within them, really be just the result of billions of fluke chances colliding within a brute, mindless process? I believe in God because if our hearts are real so is God.
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