There is only one good reason to believe that God exists: because it’s true. A statement like this runs counter to many of our assumptions about religious belief. Let’s briefly consider why.
Many people get uncomfortable when we bring reality or truth into the discussion about God. Ask who won the World Series in 1961, what percentage of the American population is 65 years of age or older, or how to get a rocket to the moon, and everybody expects clear answers that relate to the real world. Gasoline, not lemonade, goes in the fuel tank of your car; we would all view a person as crazy who thought that it was a “personal lifestyle choice” to put lemonade in her car and drink gasoline. In normal circumstances, most people speak and act as if reality matters.
But not when it comes to God. Somehow, in matters of religion, spirituality, faith, or God, people have this idea that it doesn’t matter what you believe as long as you’re sincere and don’t hurt people. In fact, many people are troubled by claims that a particular religious belief is actually true—that it corresponds to reality—and is not merely the subjective feeling or point of view of those who believe it.
What could be behind this notion? Here is one possibility: the idea that no religious belief can claim to express reality could presuppose that there is no religious reality to know. For example, the idea that religious beliefs about God cannot claim to correspond to reality might presuppose that there is no real God at all. If this were true, then God would not really exist. Rather, God would be a myth or symbol, the ultimate Imaginary Friend. When people pray to God, they would, in actuality, be talking to themselves. God would be at best a comforting lie, something people believe in because it helps them escape from reality. As silly as such a notion may sound, it has some prestigious supporters. For instance, the social psychologist Jonathan Haidt argues for the social value of religion while maintaining its overall falsity.
For all its salutary effects on society, Christianity makes concrete historical claims that bring its truth or falsity to the very center of the conversation. The question then becomes, Can it deliver on its promises? As C. S. Lewis put it:
Christianity is not a patent medicine. Christianity claims to give an account of facts—to tell you what the real universe is like. Its account of the universe may be true, or it may not, and once the question is really before you, then your natural inquisitiveness must make you want to know the answer. If Christianity is untrue, then no honest man will want to believe it, however helpful it might be: if it is true, every honest man will want to believe it, even if it gives him no help at all.[1]
But is Lewis taking the argument a bit too far? Can’t Christianity be a positive, helpful religion even if it’s not literally true, as Haidt and others maintain? The answer is that Christianity ultimately claims one thing: to tell us what the real, living God has done to bring us back into a relationship with him that will last beyond the grave for all eternity. If this God doesn’t even exist, obviously, the whole thing is just a sham. Yes, some people might find some “help” in believing a lie, but that isn’t the right way to live. On the other hand, if this God does exist, and you believe in him, you are not guaranteed immediate entrance into a thornless rose garden. So, the only thing that really matters here is whether Christianity is true and the God of the Christian faith really exists.
In the popular science-fiction movie The Matrix, Keanu Reeves plays an ordinary man who is not ordinary at all. But then, everything that seems ordinary turns out not to be real. Reeves’ character, called Neo—a tip-off that he is the first of a new kind of man—learns that his whole world is actually a “virtual reality” illusion called “the Matrix” that was created by alien machines that have taken over the Earth. He and the rest of humanity have been living a lie. At first, the truth is very hard to accept, and Neo finds it difficult to make the transition from the “virtual” world to the “real” world.
The Matrix is an enjoyable and thought-provoking film on many levels. There is, however, one way to ruin it entirely, and that is to take it too seriously. Like much science fiction, The Matrix is best understood as a parable.[2] Its point is not that alien machines might exist, or that virtual reality might one day supplant living in the real world (although many people take both speculations seriously today). At its heart, the film provokes the viewer to consider the possibility that reality is larger than the familiar material world that we experience through our five senses. But it would be a big mistake to take the scenario depicted in the film literally.
On one level, The Matrix and countless films like it are escapism. They provide their viewers an opportunity to “escape” from the “real” world into a cinematic virtual reality where life is more exciting, more romantic, or in some other way more enjoyable than their ordinary lives. Good escapist films give us an emotional boost that helps us get back to our daily routines with more enthusiasm. In that way, escapism in the movies (or in books or television) is not really about escaping reality but about strengthening us to deal with reality.
While escapism in the movies is fun and generally harmless, escapism in worldviews, philosophies, or religions is foolish and can be very harmful indeed. There’s no point in trying to avoid the truth about who and what we are or why we’re here in this world. If there is a God who made us and who expects something of us, we need to know. If God is nothing more than make-believe, on the level of Santa Claus or the Tooth Fairy, we need to know that, too.
That reality exists and is inescapable can be illustrated using The Matrix. In the storyline, the “reality” is that the machines have taken over the planet, and the “lives” that Neo and his human friends have been living are virtual-reality fiction. When Neo learns this to be the reality of his world, he does not conclude that nothing is real. Instead, he recognizes that what he had thought was real was merely an illusion. The very concept of an illusion presupposes a reality since an illusion is a distortion or deception that hides the way things really are. At some point, one must reach a “bottom line,” a place where the illusion ends and nothing but reality remains. Thus, reality must exist, and ultimately, we cannot escape it.
There are many religions in the marketplace of ideas. Why believe in one rather than another? Let us begin by narrowing the field down to those we can take seriously. Here’s a suggestion: Start by eliminating all religions that show a disregard for facts in the real world. Suppose I were to invite you to believe in the Great Pumpkin.[3] Naturally, you would begin asking questions about matters of fact: Has anyone ever seen the Great Pumpkin? Did he ever leave you candy? Suppose that I not only had no facts about the Great Pumpkin to offer you but I dismissed your questions as irrelevant and irreverent. If I told you, “The Great Pumpkin comes only to those who ask no questions,” would you take Pumpkinism seriously? Of course not. But for some odd reason, people often accept this sort of contempt for reality in religion. Many religions encourage their members to base their beliefs on their feeling that it is true. Other religions base their claims on tradition—we’ve passed these stories down for centuries, they say, and they’re part of our heritage.
Please understand: we’re not knocking feelings or tradition. They are both important elements of human existence, and we can’t function well without them. Our point is that it is the job of neither feelings nor tradition to serve as the basis for accepting a belief. A belief should be embraced because it’s true—because it’s based on reality.
Once again, Christianity is one of the few religions that even professes to be grounded on facts in the real world—factual claims that you can read about and investigate and that are well supported by evidence. It is also a religion that believes it is possible for humans to know these facts and to be held accountable for their response to them. As John Warwick Montgomery put it, Christianity is a faith founded on fact.[4]
Many people are surprised to hear that Christianity puts so much stock in fact. The Bible, however, is very clear on the matter. The Book of Proverbs repeatedly warns against naivete (Prov. 1:22; 8:5; 14:15, 18; 22:3) and urges its readers to acquire knowledge (Prov. 2:10; 8:9; 10:14; 12:1). “The truth,” Jesus said, “shall make you free” (John 8:32 KJV). Luke and John both insisted that what they reported about Jesus was historical fact (Luke 1:1-4; John 19:34-35; 21:24). The apostles warned against believing fables or myths (1 Tim. 1:4; 4:7; 2 Tim. 4:4; Titus 1:14) and stated confidently that their message was based on fact (Acts 26:26; 2 Peter 1:16).
Unlike many religions, Christianity encourages critical questions, discourages naivete, and offers factual reasons or evidence to believe its claims. The very nature of these claims—that God entered our physical reality and left concrete footprints in history—is a basic, fundamental reason to take those claims seriously. The fact that Christianity takes reality seriously does not prove that Christianity alone is true, but it does put it in the realm of options for serious truth seekers.
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[1]Chapter 1
C. S. Lewis, “Man or Rabbit?” in God in the Dock: Essays on Theology and Ethics, ed. Walter Hooper (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1970), 108-9.
[2]On Star Trek as parable, see Robert M. Bowman, Jr., “Strange New Worlds: The Humanist Philosophy of Star Trek,” Christian Research Journal 14 (fall 1991). On Star Wars as parable, see Bowman, “The Gospel According to Lucas,” Watchman Fellowship’s Vantage Point, fall 1999.
[3]The idea of using the Great Pumpkin, Linus’s imaginary Halloween hero in the Charles Schultz comic strip Peanuts, to illustrate a defective kind of religious faith comes from Christian philosopher Alvin Plantinga’s famous essay “Reason and Belief in God” (in Faith and Rationality: Reason and Belief in God, ed. Alvin Plantinga and Nicholas Wolterstorff [Notre Dame, Ind.: University of Notre Dame Press, 1983], 16-93), although we are using the idea in a very different way.
[4]John Warwick Montgomery, Faith Founded on Fact: Essays in Evidential Apologetics (Nashville: Thomas Nelson, 1978).
[1]On Star Trek as parable, see Robert M. Bowman, Jr., “Strange New Worlds: The Humanist Philosophy of Star Trek,” Christian Research Journal 14 (fall 1991). On Star Wars as parable, see Bowman, “The Gospel According to Lucas,” Watchman Fellowship’s Vantage Point, fall 1999
[1]The idea of using the Great Pumpkin, Linus’s imaginary Halloween hero in the Charles Schultz comic strip Peanuts, to illustrate a defective kind of religious faith comes from Christian philosopher Alvin Plantinga’s famous essay “Reason and Belief in God” (in Faith and Rationality: Reason and Belief in God, ed. Alvin Plantinga and Nicholas Wolterstorff [Notre Dame, Ind.: University of Notre Dame Press, 1983], 16-93), although we are using the idea in a very different way.
[1]John Warwick Montgomery, Faith Founded on Fact: Essays in Evidential Apologetics (Nashville: Thomas Nelson, 1978).
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Kenneth Boa equips people to love well (being), learn well (knowing), and live well (doing). He is a writer, teacher, speaker, and mentor and is the President of Reflections Ministries, The Museum of Created Beauty, and Trinity House Publishers.
Publications by Dr. Boa include Conformed to His Image, Handbook to Prayer, Handbook to Leadership, Faith Has Its Reasons, Rewriting Your Broken Story, Life in the Presence of God, Leverage, and Recalibrate Your Life.
Dr. Boa holds a B.S. from Case Institute of Technology, a Th.M. from Dallas Theological Seminary, a Ph.D. from New York University, and a D.Phil. from the University of Oxford in England.