Quick Answers for Hard Questions About Christ

I knew a guy in school once who was a self-avowed atheist. He was a nice guy, and we got along quite well. One day he found me reading from the Bible in the library. “SoâÂ?¦” he smiled, “you’re a Christian?” “Yep!” I blurted, overcompensating for my nervous timidity. I knew something was coming. “So, you think, then, that if there is a little kid in India who has never heard of Christ and has never seen a Bible and he suddenly dies, he is going to hell?” I was speechless. He walked away.

I have thought about that encounter a lot since high school. There was nothing more he said to me that day. He was even gracious enough to let me off the hook when I didn’t have an answer. Yet, I was infuriated by his “arrogance”. I thought long and hard about a comeback for his dilemma, but to no avail. Instead, I avoided him like the plague while harboring “righteous indignation”.

Six years later I graduated from college with a degree in philosophy. I had an arsenal of rebuttals to his comment. I could have used the ontological, teleological, cosmological or moral arguments to prove God’s existence. I could have explained the benefits of free will in humanity and the unfortunate consequences it necessitated. I could have explained Paul’s concept from Romans of even the ignorant having knowledge of God. I could have bashed his argument to death; I could have crushed him like an enemy, under a booted heal; I could have wooed the whole school with my knowledge and heavenly authority. But the more I think about it, I also could have alienated him from the truth of Jesus Christ and left myself empty and doubting.

There are very few people who come to know God through intellectual arguments. Arguments mostly give theists a nice, warm, fuzzy feeling. I am not saying there is no use to them, but the arguments weren’t even good enough for me. After years of revisiting the dilemma, I beat it down with explanations, while the force of the question remained. It wasn’t until I really thought about what bothered me that I began to understand.

By pointing to the Indian boy in hell, my friend was forcing me to admit that, if God exists, he is unjust. Since nobody wants to believe in an unjust God, the scary conclusion was that he doesn’t exist. I was amazed at how a simple question could uproot my entire faith so quickly. But then I realized something. God doesn’t tell us what he is going to do with the Indian boy. I already believe he is good. So why should I believe he is going to hell? And even if he is, why should I believe God is unjust for it? If I really believed God was good, and an Indian boy went to hell, there must be a good reason for it-greater than I could understand.

The real question is, “What about my friend?” He had heard of Christ and had seen a Bible. Did he even consider Christianity a viable option? Would arguments help him at all? I am convinced they would not. I am also convinced that my “righteous indignation” was rooted in my own faith struggles and that his “arrogance” was rooted in my own feelings of inadequacy.
If I could go back, I wouldn’t offer any arguments, even though there are plenty out there. Instead I would tell him that his question doesn’t have a bearing on my faith, because I already believe God is good. I would tell him that I trusted the Indian boy to God’s hand more than mine. Then I would ask him why he didn’t believe in God. I would listen. I would respect him. And I would try to paint the most beautiful picture of Christ for him that my weak and depraved mind could paint. Then at least his decision would be based on Christ and not me.