I think I knew when the conversation began, that I would not change his mind.

He wanted someone to give him irrefutable evidence, physical evidence, that God is real.
Like an address.
Or a phone number.

Everything that anybody says, his response is that that is not evidence; I only see it as evidence because I want it to be true.

He may have a point.

Can I prove to someone who doesn’t want God to be real that He is real?

Probably not.

No one convinced me.

Well, God did.

When I decided that what I thought I knew about Him wasn’t really making any sort of difference in my life.

“Is there more than this? There has got to be more! And what does it mean to be born again???!!!”

Boom! The answer appeared. Everything changed.

So the conversation with this guy started out, polite enough. He and a couple of others joined in, trying to help me see how ridiculous all my arguments were.

“You’re an intelligent guy, Randy. You are just not letting your brain see the truth.”

Yea! I made ‘em think I was intelligent!

But, the conversation took a turn downward, as I made shorter and shorter responses.

I thought it was interesting that none of these guys used their real names in the conversation. (Well, Jonathan did, but he said it was only because his friends and others wouldn’t realize that it was him.) The others, The Covert Atheist and thespartanatheist, defended the use of pseudonyms because their beliefs could hurt their normal lives if others knew.


I explained that I didn’t mind that they thought I was an idiot…that didn’t really hurt my feelings…I was just able to see things that they did not have the ability to see.

I nicknamed the main guy “Mike” so I didn’t have to spell out the long name every time.

“Mike” called me a condescending jerk (although, honestly, he didn’t say jerk, I just didn’t feel comfortable writing the words he actually used.)

He used some of those words in reference to God, too.

I had a flash of revelation!

“You just gave the best evidence for the existence of God,” I told him. “You hate him. You don’t hate Santa Claus, you don’t hate the tooth fairy, or the green spaghetti monster. You couldn’t hate someone if you knew they weren’t real, could you?”

Of course, he diverted. His hatred was for all the (insert curse words here) christians who are teaching all this (waste material) to children and telling them it is real.

I didn’t try to tell him much more, especially when he mocked my answer to his question, “Do you think God answers prayer?”

It could have been a longer answer that I gave him, but I knew he would miss the love of God involved in the ways God answers, so I kept it short.

“Then God pushed you off that roof and let you fall,” he said.

Oh, LORD, you tell us over and over that the god of this world blinds the minds of unbelievers, and sometimes I forget what it was like to be blind. I pray for “Mike” that you will give him a glimpse of the Truth, and that you would help him to have the desire you gave me, the desire to know you, and that you would give him the ability to love as only you can.

Because, we know we can’t love an imaginary being.


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