From Skepticism to Christ

By Benjamin

I was the typical product of the good Christian home early on. I could say spiritual things, memorize Scripture, and be excited and serious about the things that were done and taught.

After my family moved to Kansas City, the urgency of eternal things began to sink in as I listened to the pastors at my home church and heard my father's messages about false faith and false assurance delivered in other churches and in conferences. I took it all seriously and prayed often to God to save me or to give me assurance if He had. I continued to pray this kind of prayer (and very little else) because it seemed that one day it would take hold. During several short periods I felt confident in my salvation, but generally I was unsure, and at no time was I prepared to speak openly about it. On the whole I was content to wait until the fruit of a changed life could be clearly distinguished from my childish desire to please and be accepted.

Early in my teen years I began to notice that not everyone believed what my father believed and what I had always taken for granted about God and the Bible. In fact, it became evident that most of the world thought his position foolishness and were prepared to offer what looked to me like plausible arguments. Well, it wasn't foolishness—of that I was convinced, at least in the beginning—and I didn't want it to be foolishness. I would just have to find the reasonable basis for the whole system, for all the things that seemed obvious to me, like the existence of God and the infallibility and authority of the Bible.

To my surprise, after a careful (and what I thought was impartial) examination I found nothing underneath all of this that could withstand my increasing capacity to doubt. (Not that there was no evidence, but my godless mindset would not allow for evidence to be evidence.) Slowly, apprehensively, I sought for the things I really did know so that I could prove the whole Christian package, and realized stage by stage that I knew almost nothing for certain. Thinking became almost dangerous to me, and I slowed it down as much as possible; this whole descent into uncertainty was too unbelievable to be true, but it seemed inevitable.

The trend was alarming, but I dug in intellectually. "I will never give up reason," I thought. "It's too much a part of me, too necessary. The moment I give that up, then I will be truly lost." This resolve didn't keep me from giving up a million other things, like (in the end) confidence in the trustworthiness of my senses and certainty that the world was basically as it seemed. I was desperate to regain the ground I was losing, desperate to think through absolutely everything in order to build up the old edifice of purpose and clarity. Thought, and a lot of it, might get me or someone smarter than me there eventually (I thought), but if it did not, at least it seemed vaguely noble to die trying. If the Christians I talked to could not provide the kinds of arguments and answers I wanted, I would just have to find a better basis than they had ever dreamed of. This was an exciting resolve at first, but it became more and more oppressive as I did nothing but lose ground.

In all of this intellectual sin and foolishness, I did not want Christianity to be false, nor did I feel (on most days) that it would prove to be so. For this reason I lived in many respects as if it were true, and tried not to drag others into my position before I was successful according to my standards. I listened all the more intently to preaching and teaching, hoping to find the answers I wanted, but also (I'm afraid) judging the messages for what seemed like inconsistencies and weak reasoning. I was able to resolve some of these and unable to resolve others, and in my supposed neutral frame of mind I felt compelled to be disturbed about Christianity from this angle also.

An intensive course dealing with the history of Western thought as seen through Francis Schaeffer's eyes was the focus of my education as a sophomore and junior, and gave me an opportunity to think even more deeply about these issues. According to the course prescription and my family's custom, I applied a biblical standard to every question raised, though I was personally (of course) as unsettled as ever in my view of the Bible.

As we moved through history I began to see a remarkable thing: this road of autonomous thinking had been traveled before. The entire sad progression was there, from the original confidence that Christian tenets could be proven by man working from himself, to the lesser confidence that at least something of grand significance could be discovered by unaided reason and observation, to the struggle to find anything at all that is certain. And then I saw the end of all this pictured in Western history: Even reason had to go—I had no right to hold on to even that.

For the first time in my 5-year search my zeal for this pursuit of truth began to wane. Without the certainty of reason's reliability everything, really everything, became a dead end or an absurd bog. My mind was not equal to that. I could speak, but only in worthless irony or on the basis of what was commonly accepted. Every thought must be questioned as a matter of course and nothing must come to its rescue. It stifled all of my thinking and left me with nothing but suspended judgment. I acted on probability without believing in probability. In public, I could use the old forms of reason I had practiced all my life and use the premises others would accept, but in private, what was the use?

I finished the course with a heavy heart, seeing, but not yet willing (or even perhaps able) to commit myself to the solution presented, not even willing to face the choice. It meant giving up, in a sense, free thinking—all of that intellectual independence which I felt was so important and which I cherished; and so I busied myself with other matters for a long period.

Then I began to read the gospels because I couldn't leave the issue alone. I read them over and over again and was amazed at their genuineness and at the power and authority of Christ. I almost lived two lives during this period: one following Christ and another loyal to my independence in thought that had led me into so much deep and habitual doubt leading to despair.

It was at this time that my father took me aside and showed me clearly what I already knew: that my pattern of thinking over the past years had been a form of intellectual rebellion against God—instead of working in subjection to God's revelation, I had set myself up as an independent entity to judge its truth. I had undertaken a task that was impossible for a finite and fallen human mind. I should instead believe the truth of God. Only then could I be free to reason and know for certain. That was the day I stopped trying to arrive at the answers on my own and believed God unconditionally as the first step in my thinking.

The difference was night and day. Apologetic arguments that seemed previously shaky or untenable became perfectly reasonable. No longer did I have to know everything in order to know some things. Apparent contradictions in Scripture no longer shook my faith: God is true, and the fault lies with me. I enjoyed the confidence of knowing and saying simple things—things like, "There is a chair. I don't have to doubt it. I was created with senses to tell me these things, and two of the best ones tell me that this is a chair."

My belief was in God's revelation in Christ and Scripture. I recognized Christ as the Son of God and His words as absolute truth. I enjoyed exploring this new kind of freedom, but it also brought back the old questions about assurance. With my father's help, I came to the realization that the change in me was profound and that, in fact, I am one of those who believe in Christ—in His name and deity, in His word, and in His power to save. I do trust Christ when He says that I will never see death. And I do know Him because of the revelation of His word to me.

The immense joy I have in reading the Word of God, not as merely something interesting but as truth gives me continued assurance that God has done a work in me. I see in my life a desire to follow and obey Christ in every sphere.

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