There are some stories that move us whether we hear them at five or fifty-five. The 1965 release of the first Peanuts movie, A Charlie Brown Christmas, was instantly loved by adults and children alike. But it almost did not make it past the television executives who hated it. The movie was criticized for everything from being too contemporary in music, to being too religious in tone. But audiences everywhere confidently disagreed. Having aired every year since its debut in 1965, it is now the longest-running cartoon special in history.

One of my predictably favorite scenes finds Charlie Brown on a hunt for the perfect “great big, shiny, aluminum tree—maybe even a pink one” as instructed by Lucy for their Christmas pageant. At the tree lot, Charlie Brown walks through row after row of flashing, shiny spectacles of color, trying his best to choose well and please his friends. But then he sees a small, natural tree, nearly overshadowed by the flash and glitter of the rest. It is pitiful and loosing needles, but it is the only real tree on the lot. In a moment of confidence, Charlie Brown chooses the unlikely sapling over all the others (and is thus the target of laughter and mockery by all).

Even as children, we seem to know intuitively that there is something remarkable—perhaps something even sacred—about being selected, long before we understand the implications of choice at all. That someone saw anything worth choosing in this sickly little tree is a turn in the plot that quiets us. Charlie Brown claims the unlikely, pathetic tree as his own, and there is a part of us that feels claimed too.

The Christian story of God among the world is filled with the language of claiming and calling, gathering and choosing. Yet, stripped of the story and its characters, these words often offend us. We speak of the injustice of a God who claims anyone, who shows signs of favoritism, or calls anyone particularly. We forget what we felt deeply as children—namely, that being claimed among a group of the prettiest and the smartest and the fastest is not about deserving it at all.

Continue reading Ravi Zacharias Ministry – Unlikely and Selected →

Though we often note the radical disparity between secularism and Christianity, that doesn’t stop many of us from tacitly assuming that our secular interlocutors will at least recognize the plausibility of our rational arguments for the faith. But they frequently don’t. Why? Is it because they’re less rational than they fancy themselves to be? Are they just stubborn? Is it because they don’t want there to be a god?

Though each of these questions might shed some light on the situation, I don’t think they go to the heart of the matter. Furthermore, I think they often serve as a pretext for dismissing our secular friend’s outlook, and patting ourselves on the back for having given it our best shot. (Sadly, I’m speaking from experience here.) I think a better question is: What am I missing? Why am I not being heard?

Consider the historical evidence for Jesus’s resurrection. Despite its illustrious track record with skeptics, many non-believers simply dismiss it out of hand. Why? It turns out that there’s a brilliant thinker behind the scenes, and we need to make his acquaintance.

The Scottish philosopher David Hume devoted an entire section of his seminal essay, An Enquiry Concerning Human Understanding, to the subject of miracles. Unabashed in his ambitions, Hume’s stated aim was to provide an “everlasting check to all kinds of superstitious delusion,” and to mount an argument against miracles that would prove “useful as long as the world endures.”[1]

Since the world is still enduring, it may prove useful for us to re-examine Hume’s thesis regarding miracles: “A miracle is a violation of the laws of nature; and as a firm and unalterable experience has established these laws, the proof against a miracle, from the very nature of the fact, is as entire as any argument from experience can possibly be imagined.”[2] Let’s temporarily bracket the question of whether this sentence is accurate or fair, and pause to admire its rhetorical finesse. Who would want to defend anything that constitutes a “violation of the laws of nature”? Who would want to argue against scientific evidence? What kind of person makes a habit of attacking the testimony of “unalterable experience”? More significantly, what sane person would want to trespass beyond the bounds of reason?

Continue reading Ravi Zacharias Ministry – Why Can’t Skeptics Hear My Arguments?  →