Jesus. Famed Son of God. Do you believe? Maybe. Maybe not.

Would it make any difference if it were true? Maybe. Maybe not.

    What do you believe? Can you accept that you spontaneously generated from a blobby pile of ooze? Doesn’t that make you feel all warm and fuzzy inside – like you have a real purpose in life? Yeah, me either.

    So what does Jesus have to do with you? Maybe nothing. Maybe you  ignore the subject. Maybe it hasn’t been important enough to catch your attention. I get it.

    But let me tell you what happened to me. You like a good story, right? Me too. So about me, and Jesus. At nineteen, I was convinced the God theory was total poppycock. A figment of human imagination, because weak people like to think something is “out there” keeping chaos under control. HAH.

    Sure, I wanted to be a good person. Maybe spend my life helping people somehow. But I wasn’t hung up on religions and titles. I’d seen those folks. They were scary.

    I spilled this to my professor one autumn afternoon. A Christian professor. Marched into his office and announced God was all in his imagination. Bravo. So he asked me a question.

    “Have you asked God to prove Himself if He’s real?”

    HUH? No, honestly I hadn’t. Wasn’t sure I wanted to. But logic won out. What about the off-chance that he IS real? So I did. I challenged God. And you know what? He proved me wrong. How? Well, its sort of a long story. . .