The God Who Writes In the Sky

 

The fool hath said in his heart,

There is no God.

— Psalm 14:1a

             

            A knight in shining armor is coming to our church this week to speak. He's Lee Strobel, author of The Case for Christ, among other books. They detail his intellectual journey from atheism to belief, from cynical skepticism to convinced and joyous submission. Strobel (www.leestrobel.com) is one of the most famous Christian apologists of our time.

 

            Like me, he's a journalism graduate of the University of Missouri. He went on to Yale Law School and was an award-winning legal editor for the Chicago Tribune when he began a two-year investigation on the evidence for and against Christ. It was supposed to be a "hit piece," a debunking of Christian orthodoxy. But by sifting through all the evidence like a lawyer or an investigative reporter, bam! He became a born-again Christian. And ever since, he's been writing books directed at people just like he was, who are plenty smart, but just don't know the facts, and don't believe . . . yet.

 

            I do a mini-Strobel thing, on a tiny scale, from time to time. There are a couple of online bulletin boards frequented by atheists that I've joined for short periods over the years. Here's one, though I hasten to add that the content is often nasty and X-rated: http://scienceblogs.com/pharyngula/

 

            How did I start conversing with these folks? It all started when I wrote an article questioning the wisdom of teaching Nebraska schoolchildren that evolution by random chance is how the universe began and continues to develop. I don't believe that, and tried to explain why. Some of these atheists, who are pro-evolution to the point of angry, irrational fervor, attacked me (rhetorically speaking, of course), and I pursued them to their electronic "lairs" to try to keep discussing the conflict.

 

            They usually kick me out after a few exchanges, censoring my point of view. Why? Because they can't answer my questions, and that exposes the weaknesses in their beliefs.

 

            But I wait a while and come back. They often make good points that help me polish my arguments. They're even occasionally funny. And they occasionally give me glimpses of their personal pain and struggles. So I pray for them, and can't wait for the day when one of them turns to the bright side, the way Lee Strobel did.

 

            In the meantime, God finds ways to cheer me up and keep me doing it. Last year at about this time, I had written to the atheists about a study of migratory birds, that showed that by flying in a V-formation, they can go 70% farther than a single bird. This is because of the way the V-formation conserves flight energy.

 

 

            The birds take turns going first, the hardest spot, and then fall back and another bird takes their place. If one gets sick and falls out of formation to land, another one will always go with. They don't learn the V-formation from their parents; it's apparently embedded in their brains. So where did it come from? Evolutionists have no answer, just as they can't answer how the birds know how much to eat before they leave, how fast to fly, and where to fly to.

 

            Migration is a miracle, I exhorted the atheists in their little bulletin board. It's one of thousands of reasons why no one in their right mind can believe instead in Godless evolution.

 

            They sputtered. They got mad.

 

            I knew they were going to "block" me again, so just for fun, I got in one more line: God designed the V-formation for migratory birds so that every time we look up in the sky in the autumn, we can see a big "V" and think of the Victory of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.

 

            "See? He even writes it in the sky for you guys," I quipped.

 

            Oh, there were nasty rejoinders, and they did block me again. Oops. Maybe I was too sarcastic that time. Being rude doesn't advance the cause of Christ one bit.

 

            Oh, well. I drove off on an errand across town.

 

            Coming back, under the autumn sunset with purple clouds building to the west and a chill in the air, I pondered whether I had gone too far, slipped into ridicule, and pushed back any baby steps toward faith that any of those atheistic readers might have made, if not for my ill-timed humor.

 

            "But God, these guys attack You all the time! I HAD to do SOMETHING."

 

            In the silence, I was filled with fear and dread. I must've blown it. Dang! I hate when I do that!

 

            All of a sudden, I saw one of those beautiful, big "V's" of honking geese overhead. I smiled as I gazed, since I had just been writing about them . . .then gasped, as three or four of the geese suddenly left the right leg of the "V" and flew to the middle.

 

            They lined up between the two legs of the "V" . . . forming an "A."

 

            Then as I watched, mouth agape, they went right back to where they belonged, and formed a "V" again.

 

            Atheists . . . reformed into Victory.

 

            Meaning, if I hung in there, I was going to help "hook" one or more of these people. Lead them to saving faith!

 

            Heyyy! God really DOES write in the sky!

 

            Hot tears sprang into my eyes, and I gripped the wheel and sang.

 

            No, I shouted - out of awe and love and hope and inspiration, for the God who turns the hardest hearts around to Him, the God who writes about His love for each of us.

 

            He writes it in the tiniest of creatures we study in the laboratory. He writes it deep in the rocks and down in the seas.

 

            He writes it where you can't possibly miss it, big and bold and loud and sassy, with honkin' geese . . . right up there in the sky. †