Below is an excerpt from a book I’m working on about my struggle with doubt during the search for truth and a reasonable defense of the Christian faith. One single question changed the course of my life, and all for the better.
“What do you think happens when we die?” Karry asked.
It was 10 years since our first kiss on the seawall in Iwakuni, and we would celebrate our fourth wedding anniversary in June. This was one of our first serious conversations about death. When she asked this question one night in our one-bedroom condo, I was politely dismissive.
“I don’t know. Nothing? Blackness?”
I don’t remember what magazine I put aside to ponder her question. It may have been a copy of Scientific American. I liked the precision and discovery of science—the rationality of it all. It may have been a study guide for my upcoming carrier qualification. Something was different that night. Her approach combining concern and patience was by the Book.
“You really believe that?” she gently responded.
Her eyes longed for a husband who would take her Christian faith seriously. I sensed disappointment—even a bit of pity—as she shifted back onto her pillow. She was raised in a Christian family, but I didn’t grow up going to church. With those four words, she made me feel something unusual. It was a feeling she would never intentionally arouse but resulted from my unpreparedness to answer her simple question. I felt…stupid. Press…