Edited by Jim McCrory, Wednesday, 25 June 2025, 09:36
There is a God-shaped vacuum in the heart of every man which cannot be filled by any created thing, but only by God the Creator made known through Jesus Christ.” — Blaise Pascal
Image generated with the support of Microsoft Copilot
As a Christian, I often encounter challenges from those who demand that I "prove" my beliefs—as if faith could be demonstrated with the same kind of empirical certainty one uses to verify a chemical reaction. Many of these critiques come from a materialistic worldview, one that assumes only what can be measured or observed can be considered real. And I’ll grant this much: I cannot present a proof for my beliefs as though they were an equation on a blackboard. Yet the absence of absolute proof does not equate to the absence of meaningful evidence. Our experience as human beings is never reducible to mere data, and what I find profoundly telling is that some of the most important aspects of existence resist our attempts to fully understand them.
Consider the very basics of reality as we know it. What, at its core, is energy? We might invoke Einstein’s famous equation, E = mc², but this is a relational formula, not a definitive answer to energy’s essence. Even our most brilliant physicists cannot truly say what energy is—only describe its behaviour.
Or take consciousness. Neuroscience can map the activity of a brain, trace its electrical pulses, and explain certain correlations between brain states and behaviour. But consciousness itself—the inward experience, the awareness that you are you—eludes full scientific definition. We cannot extract it, weigh it, or look at it under a microscope. It is the most familiar thing to us as living beings, and yet the most mysterious.
And what about life itself? Even after decades of research into DNA and the building blocks of cells, we cannot explain exactly why a particular collection of chemicals “becomes alive.” The origin of life remains an open question. In fact, the deeper we look into these things, the more we see the vast complexity and interconnectedness of the systems sustaining life, and the less we can say with certainty about their ultimate cause.
This is what drives me to an existential reckoning. Whether one approaches these questions as a Christian or an atheist, one must acknowledge that some mysteries sit at the heart of existence. Energy is, consciousness is, life is. But why? Why do we believe what we believe when our empirical knowledge reaches its limit? Could it be that these mysteries invite us into a deeper understanding of ourselves, one that cannot be satisfied by materialistic assumptions alone?
As a Christian, I believe that God—the Creator—exists outside of space and time. This is not an arbitrary assertion; it is precisely what science suggests when it points to a beginning of time, matter, and energy at the Big Bang. To believe that a personal God initiated this unfolding universe is to embrace a view that speaks to the deep questions that pure materialism cannot answer.
Why do I hold these beliefs? Let me offer a few observations that bear existential weight for me:
The transformative power of the Bible. Throughout history, people have had their lives turned around by its teachings. These are not just superficial changes—they often involve profound inner shifts toward compassion, humility, and honesty. That kind of moral renewal is difficult to explain if we are merely the sum of our biology.
The evidence of design in nature. Walking the hills of Arran or Rothesay, I notice cairns—those simple, human-placed stones that say, "Someone was here with intention." How much more intricate is DNA, the blueprint of all life? It’s not just complexity; it is specified complexity. That suggests an intelligence at work. Scientists themselves marvel at this and often speak of DNA as “information,” as if some mind had written the code.
The enigma of consciousness. Our capacity for thought, beauty, imagination, and conscience cannot be measured, yet these are what most profoundly shape our humanity. Genesis describes humans as bearing the image of God; that resonates with my existential experience of myself as someone who loves, hopes, dreams, and grieves. Could this inner world really have arisen from random processes?
And there’s the moral dimension: we intuitively believe some things are right and some wrong, despite materialism telling us these are mere evolutionary adaptations. But if there is no higher purpose—no personal God behind reality—on what basis can we call anything truly evil or good? Why do we feel responsible for more than our own survival? Even the most ardent materialist cringes at injustice and feels awe at beauty, sensing that life is more than blind mechanism.
Finally, a child is born with the capacity to learn any language. The software is there before the experience arrives. How do we account for this intricate design? Why do we feel a deep desire for meaning and relationship? These existential questions whisper that we are not mere accidents swirling through a purposeless cosmos.
Of course, this is not “proof” in the strictest sense. Proofs belong to mathematics or geometry; they cannot capture the full depth of being. What we can do is acknowledge these mysteries, listen to what they imply about our world, and respond honestly. The Bible paints a picture of human life as loved, intended, and redeemed. It speaks of a future where suffering and evil will be undone, and it invites us to live according to a higher moral and spiritual vision.
When I look at this universe and my own experience as a human being, I find that belief in God, as revealed in Jesus Christ, not only makes sense—it fits the deep contours of my existence. In a world of shifting uncertainties, my belief is not a blind leap into darkness, but a measured response to the light I see shining through these existential mysteries.
Book image generated with the assistance of Microsoft Copilot
Can You Support Why You Believe What You Believe?
There is a God-shaped vacuum in the heart of every man which cannot be filled by any created thing, but only by God the Creator made known through Jesus Christ.”
— Blaise Pascal
Image generated with the support of Microsoft Copilot
As a Christian, I often encounter challenges from those who demand that I "prove" my beliefs—as if faith could be demonstrated with the same kind of empirical certainty one uses to verify a chemical reaction. Many of these critiques come from a materialistic worldview, one that assumes only what can be measured or observed can be considered real. And I’ll grant this much: I cannot present a proof for my beliefs as though they were an equation on a blackboard. Yet the absence of absolute proof does not equate to the absence of meaningful evidence. Our experience as human beings is never reducible to mere data, and what I find profoundly telling is that some of the most important aspects of existence resist our attempts to fully understand them.
Consider the very basics of reality as we know it. What, at its core, is energy? We might invoke Einstein’s famous equation, E = mc², but this is a relational formula, not a definitive answer to energy’s essence. Even our most brilliant physicists cannot truly say what energy is—only describe its behaviour.
Or take consciousness. Neuroscience can map the activity of a brain, trace its electrical pulses, and explain certain correlations between brain states and behaviour. But consciousness itself—the inward experience, the awareness that you are you—eludes full scientific definition. We cannot extract it, weigh it, or look at it under a microscope. It is the most familiar thing to us as living beings, and yet the most mysterious.
And what about life itself? Even after decades of research into DNA and the building blocks of cells, we cannot explain exactly why a particular collection of chemicals “becomes alive.” The origin of life remains an open question. In fact, the deeper we look into these things, the more we see the vast complexity and interconnectedness of the systems sustaining life, and the less we can say with certainty about their ultimate cause.
This is what drives me to an existential reckoning. Whether one approaches these questions as a Christian or an atheist, one must acknowledge that some mysteries sit at the heart of existence. Energy is, consciousness is, life is. But why? Why do we believe what we believe when our empirical knowledge reaches its limit? Could it be that these mysteries invite us into a deeper understanding of ourselves, one that cannot be satisfied by materialistic assumptions alone?
As a Christian, I believe that God—the Creator—exists outside of space and time. This is not an arbitrary assertion; it is precisely what science suggests when it points to a beginning of time, matter, and energy at the Big Bang. To believe that a personal God initiated this unfolding universe is to embrace a view that speaks to the deep questions that pure materialism cannot answer.
Why do I hold these beliefs? Let me offer a few observations that bear existential weight for me:
The transformative power of the Bible. Throughout history, people have had their lives turned around by its teachings. These are not just superficial changes—they often involve profound inner shifts toward compassion, humility, and honesty. That kind of moral renewal is difficult to explain if we are merely the sum of our biology.
The evidence of design in nature. Walking the hills of Arran or Rothesay, I notice cairns—those simple, human-placed stones that say, "Someone was here with intention." How much more intricate is DNA, the blueprint of all life? It’s not just complexity; it is specified complexity. That suggests an intelligence at work. Scientists themselves marvel at this and often speak of DNA as “information,” as if some mind had written the code.
The enigma of consciousness. Our capacity for thought, beauty, imagination, and conscience cannot be measured, yet these are what most profoundly shape our humanity. Genesis describes humans as bearing the image of God; that resonates with my existential experience of myself as someone who loves, hopes, dreams, and grieves. Could this inner world really have arisen from random processes?
And there’s the moral dimension: we intuitively believe some things are right and some wrong, despite materialism telling us these are mere evolutionary adaptations. But if there is no higher purpose—no personal God behind reality—on what basis can we call anything truly evil or good? Why do we feel responsible for more than our own survival? Even the most ardent materialist cringes at injustice and feels awe at beauty, sensing that life is more than blind mechanism.
Finally, a child is born with the capacity to learn any language. The software is there before the experience arrives. How do we account for this intricate design? Why do we feel a deep desire for meaning and relationship? These existential questions whisper that we are not mere accidents swirling through a purposeless cosmos.
Of course, this is not “proof” in the strictest sense. Proofs belong to mathematics or geometry; they cannot capture the full depth of being. What we can do is acknowledge these mysteries, listen to what they imply about our world, and respond honestly. The Bible paints a picture of human life as loved, intended, and redeemed. It speaks of a future where suffering and evil will be undone, and it invites us to live according to a higher moral and spiritual vision.
When I look at this universe and my own experience as a human being, I find that belief in God, as revealed in Jesus Christ, not only makes sense—it fits the deep contours of my existence. In a world of shifting uncertainties, my belief is not a blind leap into darkness, but a measured response to the light I see shining through these existential mysteries.
Book image generated with the assistance of Microsoft Copilot