“So – did you think about it?” Lucas queried as I sat down
at the table, completely dispensing with any pleasantries.
“I had a great week – how about you?” I said, ignoring
him. “At the very least you should be
considerate enough to give me time to look at the menu” I said with a smile.
“Hah! Neither one
of us has looked at the menu in years!” Lucas said. “Do they even have a menu?”
“Well, anyway, I wasn’t aware that I had homework from my
good friend and lunch partner. If I wanted
homework, I’d go back to school,” I said.
“What was it I was supposed to do this
time?”
“I know you haven’t forgotten! I asked you to consider changing your view of
the world from “there are no such things as miracles” to “miracles are
extremely unlikely but can’t be ruled out,”” Lucas said.
I was hoping he would have moved on from that topic. So I ignored his challenge and went straight
to what I knew he was trying to get at. “Like
I said before – that’s God’s problem. If
he wants me to believe, then bring it on – let’s see it!”
Lucas shrunk back a bit and I was surprised by the intensity
of his expression. “Oooh. I’m not sure I would say that” he said with a
serious expression. But he continued
“Fine – let me try an analogy out on you.”
“OK – go ahead – this ought to be interesting,” I said.
“Let’s say you go to the doctor and he tells you that you
have cancer. Whose problem is that?”
Lucas asked, but didn’t wait for me to respond.
“Using your line of reasoning, you would say it is the “doctor’s
problem.” And sure, you may be relying
on the doctor to come up with a cure for you, so in some sense it is the
‘doctor’s problem.’ But the fundamental
problem is yours – you are the one
who has cancer!” Lucas said, emphasizing the word “yours.”
“OK – yes – I understand what you are saying,” I granted
him, as our drinks arrived at the table.
“But your analogy breaks down on many levels.”
“Well, it is just an analogy, but let’s hear it,” Lucas
challenged.
“First of all, I’m not the one with the problem. God has the problem – apparently – because he
wants me to believe in him for some reason.
I personally don’t care if he believes in me – so that’s why I say it’s his problem.”
“You don’t think you have a problem??” Lucas asked with a
bit of incredulity.
“Oh, I have plenty of problems – like that fact that my good
friend Lucas wants me to believe in old fairy tales about miracles – but I’m
not expecting God to solve them,” I
said.
“Who’s going to solve your problems?”
“Hah hah! Not you obviously,” I said. “I’m going to solve my own problems – or at least I’m going to keep trying. I’m just like everyone else. We’re all in the same boat – including you – we
are all responsible for solving our own
problems. If I wait for some mysterious
deity to solve my problems, I’ll be waiting for a long time and my problems
will just get worse.”
“I agree with you that everyone is responsible for
themselves. But there are some problems
that we can’t solve ourselves – we need help.
I know you’re not a hermit – you need other people too.” Then Lucas smiled, “like me – you couldn’t
have such a stimulating lunch conversation on your own!”
“Eating a nice quiet lunch?
Doesn’t sound too bad,” I said, pretending to mull it over. “And yes, I may need other people to help me,
but it is my responsibility to go and
ask for their help.”
“Well…you need someone to love you – that’s a basic need.
And that requires another person to do something that you can’t control,”
challenged Lucas. “You can’t just go and
ask them to love you.”
“Sounds like you’re getting into song lyrics,” I said, not
wanting to give in, but feeling like this wasn’t really going the direction I
wanted to take it. “Anyway, that’s not
the only problem with your analogy. In
fact, the biggest problem is that a doctor is not like your all-knowing God
that you say exists. Your analogy breaks
down because any doctor, no matter how good they are and no matter what they
think about themselves, they are not all-knowing,” I said.
Lucas smiled and I knew he was about to make some joke, but
he didn’t. “Go on,” he said.
“Well, the God you believe in apparently knows everything –
right? And if he knows everything, then I
shouldn’t have to go to him to find
out I have cancer. He already knows I
have cancer. He should come and find me and just take care of it. It would be a pretty mean God if he knows
that I have cancer and doesn’t do something about it and just leaves me to die
of it,” I said.
“That’s a great line of reasoning. In that case, God should just keep you from
getting cancer in the first place,” Lucas said.
“Sounds good to me,” I exclaimed.
“But obviously God doesn’t do that. There is
cancer.” Lucas said.
Seemed like Lucas was setting his own trap. “Thus proving that your God does not exist,”
I exclaimed.
“No – your God
does not exist. The God I believe in
obviously doesn’t act the way you think he does.”
“What do you mean by that?” I asked.
“Well, you’re describing a God who is willing to force his
way into people’s lives and take care of everything. Obviously, no such God exists because there
are plenty of things that are not “taken care of” in this world, including
cancer. However, one of the key
characteristics of the God that Christians believe in is that he doesn’t force people to believe. In fact, he waits for an invitation.”
“Hmmph. That seems
too convenient. You get to pick whatever
characteristics you want to ascribe to your God so that he can’t be
discovered.” That always bothered me.
“I didn’t pick those characteristics. It’s fundamental to my beliefs. In fact there are number of passages in the
Bible that describe this very characteristic of God. For example, Jesus said “I stand at the door
and knock” and he waits to be let in. That perfectly illustrates my point. God waits to be invited in.”
“Sounds weak to me,” I exclaimed.
“God is certainly strong enough to break down the door and
come storming in. But he chooses to wait for an invitation. You can call that weak if you want. I say that it sometimes requires more
strength to exercise such restraint than it does just to barge on in,” Lucas
said.
“OK – fine. But that
still doesn’t explain how it is reasonable for God, knowing I have cancer, not
to even tell me,” I said, trying to get back to my main point.
“Actually God thinks – knows – that every human being has a
problem much worse than cancer. And he tries to tell you all, but you won’t
listen. The thing God does not do is keep yelling until you do
listen. If you want to listen, he’s
there. If you don’t want to listen, then,
as I said at the beginning, that’s your
problem. He will not force himself. It is beneath God to have to grovel to human
beings.”
“OK. I’ll
listen.” I paused for a mock dramatic
moment of silence. “I don’t hear
anything.”
“Now we are finally getting somewhere!” Lucas said
excitedly, surprising me a bit. “That is
exactly the point I’m trying to get you to see.
The first step in listening is for you to allow some crack in your “no
miracles, no supernatural” view of the world.
You don’t hear anything because you’ve covered your ears. Figuratively, I mean,” Lucas injected as I
waved my hands away from my head showing my ears were, indeed open. “You don’t really allow yourself to hear
anything supernatural. As long as you
reject all means that God might use to get your attention, then he has no means
of talking to you. If he is not willing
to force you to believe – and I believe he does not force anyone – then the
next move is yours.”
It still seemed to me that this was all God’s problem. But Lucas’ line of reasoning seemed
reasonable on the face of it. It all seemed
like kind of a cosmic Catch 22. I was
going to have to think about it.
Lucas could see I was waffling a bit. “Think about your relationship with your
wife. Can you force her to love you?”
“No – certainly not.”
“And even if you could force her to love you, what kind of
love would that be? God wants a
relationship with each one of us. But he
wants a willing relationship. Sure he could force us to do whatever he
wants…but what kind of a relationship is that?
If God forces us to believe in him, what kind of belief is that?” Lucas
asked.
“I see your point…” I said, still trying to think this thing
through. “…still seems highly convenient
that God wiggles out of the blame.”
“I know you would like to be able to blame God for your
unbelief but you really can't. In fact, the
reality is you don't really want a
God that you could blame for your unbelief.
Such a God would be a controlling ogre,” Lucas said. Then he continued, “How about if I just ask
you to make this one change: stop saying
that it is God’s fault you don’t believe and start accepting some of the blame
yourself.”
“Ouch. Sounds harsh,”
I said.
Lucas relaxed a bit and his face softened. “Yeah, I’m sorry, it is a bit harsh.” He paused for a moment. “I think it’s time to eat.”
The corned beef arrived at the perfect time, as far as I was
concerned. Too much to take into
consideration.
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