As an evangelical Christian, I can honestly say, that when I am talking about my beliefs to a non-believer, even with some one who’s not an atheist, I have trouble justifying or even explaining my beliefs. It's the questions, the uncertainty, the doubt; everything just seems to be "questionable", "incorrect", or a "lie". “How do you know your religion is the right one?” “How do you know that Jesus really existed?” “How do you know that your church leaders didn’t lie to you, or changed the Bible?” “How do you even know that there is a god?”
It was absolutely frustrating to not have an answer. I always had to fall back on the “tried-and-true” Pascal’s Wager, that it was essentially safer to believe in a god than to not believe in one. I kept asking for something more, praying for something. I felt that everything I said, to anyone, fell upon deaf ears. However, there were a few of my peers that decided they wanted to know more—some were atheists, some were agnostics, other Christians and various other faiths. Although I would love to expound upon these different debates, for the sake of being brief (ha), I will only talk about one in particular.
This friend, Max, was and is an agnostic. I had known him since ninth grade (I’m now a senior in high school, but this happened earlier this summer), and he seemed pretty brilliant. He was a math ace, he’d been programming since he was nine (he programmed an entire robot in a weekend), and he’s one of my best friends. When I got to know him a little better, it really perked my curiosity to know what he thought about this whole debacle, about god, about religion, about death, about life, about everything. I was surprised by his answer. He genuinely didn’t know. He didn’t really believe anything either way. We spent entire class periods discussing theology, science, probability, both not getting any further to solving the problem, but getting that much closer to knowing how each side thought, iota by iota.
As we progressed through high school, we actually ended up on opposite sides of the theological spectrum. One of his favorite things to do was to try and undermine my beliefs. One of my favorite things to do was to take those attempts and refute them. We stumped each other quite a few times, but it ended up in this see-saw motion, where no one side could hold the advantage for long.
However, one day, in fact, this summer (the second or third week in June), we had the most interesting of all discussions. We were hanging out at the local In-and-Out (a popular fast-food chain in California). I remember turning to him and showing a reference to a Bible verse printed on the under-side of my cup (yes, it’s a Christian-owned restaurant chain). He immediately remembered an argument he had found on a forum that was the “one-true argument to disprove the existence of God” (the Jeudo-Christian one, mind you). He braced me for it, he said that since any one can create a god, can believe a god, or see a god in an infinite number of ways, the probability that out of those infinite permutations, that my one god is the true one, is impossible. He brought Calculus into the situation. The limit of infinity, 1 over infinity has to equal zero, so therefore the probability of my god being the one true god is zero.
I thought about this. For a while. I weighed the merit of the argument against my counter-arguments. Perhaps, I thought, it might be that improbable. Now this didn’t really fit with my beliefs, and it might or might not fit with yours, however, I am usually the more open-minded of Christian—if it has merit, I will give it a chance. So on I thought. And finally, I came to a conclusion that I thought was suitable.
“Then atheism is impossible too.” He shot me back a quizzical look, so I explained. I explained it in an example that was ridiculously simple. A code. I asked, “what was the probability that a code, infinitely long, could be altered, randomly, to be the exact length of the code for a computer program?” He didn’t say anything. “What is the probability of infinitely recombining an infinite number of monomers, on an infinitely long strain of DNA, what was the probability that it would create the DNA, tailored to the exact length, exact order, and exact composition of the simplest organism on the planet?”
Zero. Zilch. None. By the same reason we choose not to believe in god, it is the same reason why he exists. It is the same reason why unguided, random macroevolution is impossible. It is the same reason why atheism cannot be proven.
Nevertheless, I still didn’t refute his first example, on why my god can’t possibly be the one true god. I quoted Thomas Edison. That he failed ten thousand times to produce a light bulb, but he only needed one to make it work. I told him that no matter how many different ways he chooses to believe in God, it doesn’t matter. By merely believing something, we can’t change a single thing. I told him I can imagine him an infinite number of ways, but I only need that one, true image of him to disprove all of the others.
I won.




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