While the influence of the so-called new atheists, led by Richard Dawkins and Christopher Hitchins, has waned in recent years, the fog of their critiques against Christianity has not altogether disappeared. Comedian Ricky Gervais has leveled one of the most compelling arguments against Christianity. He argues that if you destroyed all holy books and all science books, “in a thousand years they'd all be back, because all the same tests would be the same result.” In other words, the science books would return exactly as they were because experiments would return the same results while the religious texts would not.
Gervais argues that if God were real, he could have easily proven himself by including verifiable scientific knowledge in scripture such as 𝐸=𝑚𝑐2. In his view, the “myths” of the Bible are far from persuasive. His point is simple: science is superior to faith because it relies on testability and repeatable evidence, while religion rests on ancient testimony and tradition.
It’s an important critique. Why didn’t God include scientific formulas to prove his existence?
Others set a different bar. The agnostic Alex O’Connor has said that, for him, conversion would require an unmistakable, personal supernatural experience that could not be explained away. Many skeptics probably resonate more with O’Connor than Gervais. Their doubt is personal. They are waiting for an encounter with God that feels undeniable.
But what if both critiques misunderstand the purpose of Scripture? What if God’s goal is not to overwhelm us with irrefutable proof, but to invite us into trust? Scripture suggests that God’s aim is not intellectual coercion but relational trust. “So faith comes from hearing, and hearing through the word of Christ” (Rom. 10:17). The Bible presents God not as a theorem to be solved but as a Person to be known.
Recently, a testimony circulated about a former atheist eye surgeon who came to faith through his work in ophthalmology. As he studied the intricate complexity of the human eye—how trillions upon trillions of cells must align perfectly for sight to function (otherwise the person will be born blind)—he began to question whether such elegance could be the product of blind processes alone. His scientific training became the doorway to his faith. Science did not compete with belief—it pointed beyond itself.
This is an important reminder: science and faith are not enemies. They answer different kinds of questions. Science discovers what God already created while exploring the mechanisms of the world—how things work. Faith addresses meaning, purpose, and ultimate cause—why there is something rather than nothing.
What if God is not interested in backing us into a corner? What if He provides sufficient evidence of His existence, yet stops short of overwhelming proof? Jesus said, “An evil and adulterous generation seeks for a sign, but no sign will be given to it except the sign of the prophet of Jonah” (Matt. 12:39). Again and again in the gospels, those demanding spectacular signs often missed the deeper Invitation before them.
Many of us have a pragmatic relationship with God. We are willing to believe when it is convenient or beneficial. King Ahaz embodied this spirit. After suffering defeat at the hands of Syria, he did not repent and trust in God. Instead, he broadened his worship to include the gods of his enemies:
In the time of his distress he became yet more faithless to the Lord—this same King Ahaz. For he sacrificed to the gods of Damascus that had defeated him and said, “Because the gods of the kings of Syria helped them, I will sacrifice to them that they may help me.” But they were the ruin of him and of all Israel. And Ahaz gathered together the vessels of the house of God and cut in pieces the vessels of the house of God, and he shut up the doors of the house of the Lord, and he made himself altars in every corner of Jerusalem. In every city of Judah he made high places to make offerings to other gods, provoking to anger the Lord, the God of his fathers” (2 Chron 28: 22-25).
Ahaz trusted what appeared to “work” and in that sense shares something with Gervais. But life (and faith) is not so simple. Where is God calling us to trust him when he withholds proof from us?
The eye surgeon’s story illustrates the tension between trust and proof beautifully. His scientific investigation did not replace faith; it prepared him for it. He followed the evidence as far as it would go—and then discovered that evidence alone cannot produce faith. At some point, trust is required. Not blind trust, but relational trust.
Why does God give us stories instead of scientific proof? Perhaps because he is inviting us into something deeper than intellectual assent. Perhaps because he wants us to come like a child not like a professor. Jesus said, “Truly, I say to you, whoever does not receive the kingdom of God like a child shall not enter it” (Mk. 10:15). A child does not demand a technical explanation before trusting a loving father. A child trusts because he knows the father’s character.
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