An Intellectual Reality Check

I was the good little apologetics girl. I studied for hours and hours, finding verses, reading quotes, writing my own analysis and explanation of different topics relating to the Christian faith. I could explain deism, transcendentalism, and postmodernism. I memorized scripture. I read my Bible. Not only that, but I knew this wasn’t everything. I knew that I didn’t become righteous by what I did, but rather, what Christ did in me. …but at the same time, I knew there was something I was missing. However, I sure didn’t expect what was coming.

David (Zachary): “Do you believe the Bible is true?”
Me: “Yes.”
David (Zachary): “Why?”

I blinked as I sat there feeling my internal temperature rise as I came to the horrifying conclusion that I didn’t have a good answer. I knew the Bible was the inerrant, complete, divinely inspired, biblical cannon of Scripture. I knew it was the Word of God. But that wasn’t the question. After I managed some fumble of an answer, the discussion moved on… but to be frank… I was mad. Why didn’t I have a good answer?

I sat on my bed that night, unable to sleep until I resolved the issue. David, playing a devil’s advocate naturalist, had spent a considerable amount of time in class arguing against the very book that his roomful of Christian students all held dear. I sat in my room by the light of a low lit lamp, and wrestled with his arguments until I followed them to the root of the issue, formed a satisfactory response, preached it (quietly) to my bedroom walls at least five times, and then finally was able to sleep.

Things only escalated from there. I spent the thirty-five minute drive home from worldview class several weeks in a row, discouraged and frustrated at my lack of answers and trying to pick up the pieces of my shattered paradigm. From a bizarre exegesis of the story of Achan in the book of Joshua, to questions and logical fallacies that made my mind freeze, my intellect and responses were constantly challenged, and my unsettled and insecure feeling only increased to the point that I felt stripped of what knowledge-related security I once thought I had.

I had a conversation about this feeling with my teacher one evening before class. David talked about how he stretches our intellect and responses intentionally by using hard questions and arguments as a way to show us, in a safe setting, how we ought to think thoughtfully. But one of the points he made that I doubt I will ever forget was , “You reach the point where all you have left to cling to is a blood-drenched cross…and you stand at the foot of that cross, and wrestle with the hard questions.”

As the conversation came to a close, I felt incredibly relieved. However, I’m not going to pretend this experience is over; I know that I’m just getting started. There is always more to consider, understand, and contemplate. But I also know that if I hadn’t had this experience, I wouldn’t know what I now know about what I don’t know.

Thank you, David.