Believe It, or Not

Christian/atheist couple play devil’s advocate

I can’t recall if it was Theresa, or I who came up with the idea to take The Challenge.

Probably, each of us had a hand in it. We certainly each of us had a mouth in it — and each of us was sick of hearing the other spout off about it.

A year before we married, Theresa and I made a pact to avoid The Issue.

Really, why drive ourselves to — and around and around — Crazy Town, arguing ad nauseam on the trip?

It was easier to stay out of Dodge — that is, I would side-step her pile of Christian Research Institute journals, and Theresa would give my stash of Scientific American magazines a wide berth.

For this past year, we’ve managed to maintain our “don’t ask; don’t tell; don’t discuss” truce — until today’s game-changer triggered us to mount our high horses.

As regards having children — rather, not having children — we were in perfect accord from the get-go.

That’s not entirely accurate; it’s not that both of us definitively didn’t want children. I had never much thought about it; I suppose I didn’t lean one way or the other.

In any event, the question was moot. Six years before we’d met, Theresa had been told — given severe deformities in both ovaries — that her odds of conceiving were one in a million.

Guess who won the lottery this afternoon!

We’re barely two months into the marriage — we must have struck the jackpot on our honeymoon. We should have gone to Vegas with those odds.

Our “religious differences” — euphemistic understatement — are no longer academic.

How the hell are we going to raise a child in this mixed up marriage?

Subtle denominational differences are not at issue; we’re contending with polarity.

Which brings us to the challenge. Tonight, at supper, we solemnly promised to consider each other’s position; we hashed out the terms.

For Theresa, that entails reading the de-conversion memoir by former fundamentalist preacher Dan Barker.

My part of the bargain is to read Lee Strobel’s compelling story of his transformation from staunch atheist to evangelical Christian. I am also obliged to study selected biblical references and to pray for Jesus to show me the light.

The book and the Bible, those I can handle, tedious though I expect them to be. As for praying to Jesus, that strikes me as simply silly, like talking to myself. What am I supposed to expect: a flash of fire, a voice from On High?

Meantime, I’m beat. The shock of impending parenthood has wiped me out. Jesus and Company will have to wait until tomorrow.

So, OK, here goes. Shout out to Heaven: Hello, anybody there?

He answered me.

He’d been here all along — Jesus said — patiently waiting for me to come to Him. He baptized me, bathed me in white light, forgave me my sins.

Praise the Lord!

This happened just now, just as I was waking up.

Theresa has already left for work. I’m going to call in sick, so that I can spend the day devouring Strobel and the Bible.

I can’t wait to begin my life anew in Christ!

I can’t wait until Theresa comes home to tell her the Good News!

This afternoon, Dr. Logan called to say: surprise! During supper, Ben and I — barely able to eat — came up with our cockamamie pledge.

I confess that, at first, I was tempted to just go through the motions. We are entrenched in our positions; I just can’t see how either of us would budge.

One thing I know for sure: God will become an atheist sooner than Ben will become a born-again Christian!

As for me, I’ve been a believer all my life. Not a dumb-and-blind believer — I’ve had my share of questions and doubts over the years. Ultimately, they’ve served to strengthen, not diminish, my faith.

I’m not a ba-ba-brain-dead sheep; I’ve long studied the Bible, and no, I don’t believe it literally word-for-word — surely, much of it is metaphorical. Regardless, this poses no threat to my faith.

Time and again, Christ triumphs. Nit-picking and cherry-picking notwithstanding, His message of love and salvation prevails.

That said, I have no qualms whatsoever about my quest. Surely, genuine faith such as mine will not be threatened by a disgruntled, defrocked preacher nursing his sour grapes.

I am determined to rise to the challenge of playing devil’s advocate — or at least, to hear his fallen angel out.

I finished the book at seven-thirty this morning, having read straight through the night.

I must admit, Barker comes across as sincere. Surely, he doesn’t need to keep an axe sharpened for Church-grinding purposes; after all, he’d earned a fortune from the several Christian books he wrote and seminars he developed.

Barker was a dynamic and fervent preacher, a staunch believer. His faith eroded despite his having struggled mightily to maintain it; he had been dragged — thrashing and howling all the while — to his ultimate realization that God does not exist.

I cannot begin to imagine his years of torment. I myself could never have borne such prolonged torture.

Mercifully, I will never suffer so. Unlike erstwhile-preacher Barker, I have no need to cry out to Jesus, to beseech Him to sustain my faith.

After my night of immersion in Dan Barker’s hell, I am, at last, released to the Light, the Truth.

I am secure in my belief; it cannot be shaken. I am at peace. Christ, the Father, the God, in whom I’ve put my unwavering trust in all my life, can never fail me.

After all, how could God fail me when — thanks to Dan Barker — I know, without doubt, He does not exist.

I can’t wait to get home tonight to give Ben the good news: I am a newly born atheist!