One Bowl of Apricots or Two
A young psych student pulling kitchen duty in the Army noticed that apricots were not very popular in the chow hall, so he decided to conduct a little experiment. He stood at the end of the chow line and rotated offering the apricots to the soldiers three very different ways:
- “You don’t want apricots, do you?”
- “You want apricots, don’t you?”
- “Do you want one serving of apricots or two?
The results were fascinating. Ninety percent of those asked You don’t want apricots, do you? said No and declined receiving a serving.
Fifty percent of those asked You want apricots, don’t you? said Yes and received a serving.
Fifty percent of those asked if they wanted one serving of apricots or two said they’d take some, while forty percent said they’d take two! Only ten percent declined all together.
There is power in a good presentation! What is your demeanor when you invite others to consider the claims of Christ? Does it say, "You don't want to know about Jesus, do you?" It's no surprise that the vast majority of these invitations are declined. Or, does it say, "You do want to know about Jesus, right?" Or, are you so bold as to ask, "Do you want one serving or two"?
"Now go out to the street corners and invite everyone you see" (Matthew 22:9).
A Willing Suspension of Disbelief (Or, Frankenstein's Monster Visits Starbucks)
In his book, RANDOMNESS HAPPENS FOR A REASON, the founder of Illustration Exchange discusses the limits of randomness in the creative process:
The term “willing suspension of disbelief” was coined by the poet Samuel Taylor Coleridge in 1817. Coleridge asked readers to set aside their skeptic glasses to allow a “willing suspension of disbelief,” so they might better engage with his fantasy-filled poems. Of course, we’ve all been captivated by the inked magic of a good page-turner or transported to unexplored dimensions by the bewitching spectacle of the silver screen.
But even as we indulge in one of these flights of fantasy, no one genuinely believes that the guy with the big 'S' on his chest is actually whooshing past skyscrapers, or that they might stumble across Dr. Frankenstein's pet project at Starbucks, sipping a pumpkin spice latte. Instead, for the sake of being taken on the journey, we willingly place our critical thinking on airplane mode, allowing the magic to wash over us.
What we are less cognizant of is that we are often called upon to suspend our disbelief when it comes to how we view the real world. For example, who has ever actually witnessed life springing forth from non-living matter? Given that such an event has never been observed—even in today’s high-tech, billion-dollar labs—it raises the question: What’s the difference between this “story” and the tale of Frankenstein’s life-imparting lightning bolt? As far as we’ve been able to determine, one is just as improbable as the other.
Yet, inexplicably, without blinking an eye, we suspend our critical faculties by accepting the audacious proposition that the diversity of life we witness today was woven by the clumsy fingers of blind, aimless chance. Secular society asks us to allow a “willing suspension of disbelief” so that we might better engage in its fantasy-filled theories about reality—and we have obliged.
... [To] keep the fantasy afloat, modern narrators distort reality on two fronts. They hyper-hyperbolize the creative potential of randomness while adamantly denying the authenticity of the design observed throughout nature. By tweaking the narrative in these two specific ways, it can be claimed that chaos and order not only work towards the same end; they are, in fact, the same thing.
With the help of a little creative storytelling, our critical capacities are disabled so that our brains are no longer capable of discerning the difference between chance and design. Instead, we gaze out at the vast complexities of the natural world and all we see is the byproduct of chaos. Chance and design have become indistinguishable.
But let's not be fooled: Chaos and complexity are not even on speaking terms. By any measure, they are as compatible as fire and ice. Rather than aiding and abetting order and design, entropy is a relentless saboteur, dismantling it with ruthless efficiency. ...
But beyond the realm of our imagination, randomness has real limits. It lacks the knowledge and the finesse to write the intricate DNA codes that distinguish every species inhabiting our blue marble, nor can it produce the fine-tuned complexity found at the molecular, cellular, or systems level of living organisms. Moreover, it fails to explain how these layers of design came to operate in perfect harmony with one another.
The story that’s told of the wonders of a Creation, molded and shaped by random processes, is as fantastic a tale as any penned by Samuel Taylor Coleridge, or anyone else for that matter. Yet, here we are, fully immersed in a fantasy world where chance is deemed more capable than God Himself. That’s because, all too often, we’ve allowed naturalistic assumptions to overshadow common sense. ...
To break this spell, we must shake off the stardust and reclaim our critical faculties. Rather than ascribing superpowers to randomness, we must recognize it for what it truly is: a rudderless, reckless, chaotic force, as incapable of producing the complexities of the human brain as a tornado is of constructing a jumbo jetliner capable of flight.
"in the beginning, God ..." (Genesis 1:1).
"For in him all things were created: things in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or powers or rulers or authorities; all things have been created through him and for him" (Colossians 1:16, ESV).
Playing Hide and Seek With God
According to Brittanica.com, hide-and-seek was [first] described by a Greek writer named Julius Pollux in the 2nd century BCE, which is really taking it way back. He calls the game apodidraskinda and describes it as something nearly identical to today's version of hide-and-seek.
Throughout the history of the childhood game Hide-and-Seek, with its roots believed to date back to ancient Greece [and probably beyond], there has never been a hider who didn’t know they were hiding. After all, the game often requires participants to squeeze into uncomfortable spaces and hold their breath when the seeker gets too close.
Likewise, living in denial of God’s existence takes considerable effort. For example, it is a daunting challenge to avoid the implications of an exquisitely choreographed and infinitely complex universe. Without the hand of God, how could everything materialize from a void of nothingness? And even if that could be explained, how did interdependent layers of complexity and design emerge from simplicity? And even if sense could be made of that, how did life then burst forth from the barren womb of lifeless matter?
Given the contortions required to explain the universe without appealing to a Creator, it’s safe to say that, beneath all the bother, there has never been a hider who didn’t know they were hiding from God.
This includes the eminent evolutionary biologist and professional God-dodger, Richard Dawkins, who provocatively declared, “Biology is the study of complicated things that give the appearance of having been designed for a purpose.” Dawkins candidly acknowledged that living organisms “overwhelmingly impress us with the appearance of design, as if by a master watchmaker.”
Yet, in a plot twist rivaling an M. Night Shyamalan movie, Dawkins asserts that the breathtaking design we observe in the cosmos isn’t real! This baffling conclusion is based on his contention that God isn’t real either. As the logic goes, if there is no God, then we can’t attribute purpose or intent to anything that we observe in nature.
Naturalists like Dawkins argue that the cosmos only appears to be a masterpiece of design. Thus, it’s not the facts of a well-designed universe that they seek to avoid as much as the Grand Architect to whom those facts point.
Despite the appearance of a well-designed universe, we are asked to believe that the cosmos came about without conscious guidance. In other words, the universe is sending mixed messages.
But let's be real—the only telltale sign a Grand Designer would leave is, well, the appearance of design! To dismiss the idea of a Designer, in the face of the very proof one would expect to find, shows that even the most convincing evidence can be brushed aside when it doesn't fit a predetermined narrative. Even evidence acknowledged as “overwhelming” is inexplicably dismissed.
To avoid replicating this mistake, we must be willing to scrutinize our presuppositions as rigorously as we examine our facts. Otherwise, our assumptions take the driver’s seat, relegating the facts to passenger status.
"For his invisible attributes, namely, his eternal power and divine nature, have been clearly perceived, ever since the creation of the world, in the things that have been made. So they are without excuse" (Romans 1:20, ESV).
"By faith we understand that the universe was created by the word of God, so that what is seen was not made out of things that are visible" (Hebrews 11:3, ESV).
"For by him all things were created, in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or dominions or rulers or authorities—all things were created through him and for him" (Colossians 1:16, ESV).