InterVarsity Press

Conversations: Why Doesn't God Make Himself Obvious?

Lance:

I go to church with my wife and kids, and people think I'm a Christian. But how can I call myself a Christian when I'm not even sure there is a God? Sometimes I look out into space and think that all that is out there is space. If there is a God, why doesn't he make himself obvious?

Ruth:

When I read your question, Lance, my first impulse is to say, "Me, too." Those are my very questions, and if I could answer them satisfactorily, I would unravel a quandary that has confronted questioning minds from time immemorial. How can anyone, I ask myself, not feel a sense of absence when contemplating God? Some people have responded to this sense of absence by simply denying the existence of God. I can't do that. I could say I won't do that, but the truth is I can't do that.

There is something within me that assures me that there is a God. And it is not simply a matter of rational thinking—although from a scientific and philosophical perspective, there seems to be more evidence all the time for what some people term Intelligent Design. But my sense of knowing is more than that. There is something within me that tells me there is a God—except, of course, on those days when unbelief seems to hold more sway than belief. But even then there is what John Calvin called sensus divinitatis—and he believed that this almost universal disposition to believe in God is grounds in itself to believe in the existence of God. So, maybe in a way God does "make himself obvious."

Just today I was talking with Marcia, my artist friend in Evergreen, Colorado. (I mention her in the first chapter of my book, Walking Away from Faith.) She spoke of two well-known Christian writers who struggle with doubt and unbelief as I do, and she speaks of the three of us as her "desert" friends—desert because our habitation of faith is often a barren wasteland. But she was commenting on how she thinks of us as desert flowers—those hardy blossoms that somehow thrive in the desolate regions despite the harsh climate. I think that there are signs of your spiritual health—and of your being a desert flower—in the very questions you ask, Lance, and I would encourage you to cultivate a faith that asks hard questions. I personally wouldn't have any other kind of faith. Sometimes I think I envy those who believe so easily, but the truth is I don't. I'm glad God gave me the disposition I have. Be grateful for your questions and struggles. Don't wish that your beliefs came as easily as the person sitting next to you in the pew. Find some friends who struggle as you do. Learn to live and to love the questions and tensions and paradox in life. Sing the songs of the faith. Read the Psalms and Sermon on the Mount. Read poetry and the classics of the faith. And, don't be afraid to laugh and see humor in your search for God.

Thanks for writing. I look forward to hearing from you again. God's blessings.