Some people approach what they choose to believe like they would a salad bar. They pick and choose what they like and disregard the rest. The problem with this approach is that God doesn’t give us a choice of what to believe but of whether to believe. We must be careful not to confuse these two things.

For example, people take issue with such things as whether or not God created everything in just six twenty-four-hour days, or whether there was a literal Adam and Eve, or whether Noah preserved all land animals during a worldwide flood, or whether Jesus is the only way to heaven. These things are questioned by some Christians even though they are presented forthrightly in the text of Scripture.

Nevertheless, many feel free to amend what God has said and still call it faith!

Denver, Colorado is 5,276 feet above sea level, hence the nickname “Mile High City.” 

The altitude there has been credited and blamed for the effects it has on unaware or unprepared visitors from lower elevations. People feel the effects of lower air pressure and decreased oxygen when they arrive; the same goes for visiting athletes. 

Sure, they’re better conditioned than Joe or Jane Average, but they’re drawing more on the thin air in their competitive exertions. Many, if they’re honest, have stories to tell about needing rather quickly to find their second wind and taking a few days to acclimate enough that their performances don’t suffer.

Such teams as the Nuggets, Avalanche, Broncos, and Rockies actually employ marketing schemes to plant seeds doubt in visiting teams, amplifying the disadvantages posed to those athletes who are not properly altitude trained. For example, at Ball Arena, there is signage where visiting teams enter and exit noting the city’s altitude. The numbers 5,280 are printed right on the court, near each free-throw line. The video board during introductions welcomes the road team with an ominous warning about the difficulty in catching one’s breath. Then, there are large, hazard-orange-and-black placards on display (“Attention: Altitude Warning/Low Oxygen”).

In fact, the intimidating marketing is right there in the name ... "Empower Field" at "Mile High Stadium"!

In response, we often see oxygen tanks used on the visiting teams’ sidelines to help them try to catch their breath.

There is a whole school of athletic training based on high-altitude workouts. Olympic athletes routinely seek out facilities in Denver and Colorado Springs to boost their oxygen efficiency, and countless trainers and gyms simulate the effects with dedicated breathing equipment.

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.