Follow-up Archive

September 5, 2006

Sharing the Faith with Agnostics
By Rev. Joe Cox

Download the whole article (PDF)

The Diag forms the heart and soul of social life at the University of Michigan in Ann Arbor. Diagonal paths from all across the main campus converge on this simple brass M that marks the central meeting place of campus. Sunbathers, Frisbee golfers, picnickers, pontiffs and even Hash-bashers congregate at this place that represents the quintessence of academic and libertarian freedom. Had Plato lived long enough, even he might’ve been found corrupting the youth of Michigan on the steps of the Harlen Hatcher Graduate Library that marks the south end of the area. Walking through the Diag on any given day, one is almost sure to encounter street preachers, political activists and even a TA winning points with his class by teaching outside.

One is reminded of the time in which St. Paul encountered the philosophers of his day in the city of Athens (Acts 17:16-34). He had begun in his usual way of first testifying to the risen Christ with the Jews and God-fearing Greeks in the Synagogue; he then turned his attention to those in the marketplace where he won the interest of some philosophers who brought him back to the Areopagus—Athens own “Diag.” It was there he addressed the Agnostics of his day. He neither railed against them, nor insulted them. Rather he respected their devotion to the divine. Stoics and Epicureans acknowledged the existence of god in the philosophical sense, though in general they would not allow themselves to be bound by the religious stories of the “pagans” who feared falling under the wrathful eyes of the Greek or Roman pantheons. Paul did well to remember that they were not atheists, who don’t believe in the existence of God. These were agnostics—those whose own devotion led to the humble (or perhaps surreptitiously prideful) conclusion that they simply didn’t know enough about God. It is not his existence that is in doubt—but rather his self-revelation.

Standing at the foot of the steps of the “Grad” library, my friend pointed toward a rather odd t-shirt walking toward us, almost too big for its owner. The black color of the shirt merely intensified the emblazed white text: “God Hates Me”. It was a gloomy day and the shirt’s owner shuffled past us with his head down. I could not get past the shirt. How could anyone think that God, who loved the whole world enough to send His only-begotten son to die for humanity, would hate him? Impelled by a nearly irresistible urge that God had placed me at that spot for just this time, I nervously approached the fellow student and asked that very question.

Like the altar "TO AN UNKOWN GOD" this religious icon did not deny God's existence, but it did belie the worshipper's ignorance of God's true nature; ignorance in the good sense: he lacked the knowledge. Starting with the creation, Paul began to reveal the true nature of God to the Athenian agnostics. He spoke of creation and Adam and God's ongoing relationship with men and finally he arrived at the true revelation of God's nature.

Like the Stoics and Epicureans, my God-hating-t-shirt wearing friend was more than willing to have a prolonged conversation-one that did span the course of scripture confronting issues such as the parting of the Red Sea. But at the heart of all the questions and challenges to the proclamation of the Christian faith was a resounding agnosticism-"if God loves me so much, then why has He never made himself known to me?" It was humbling to look that man in the eyes, realizing God's purpose for me that day, and respond. "My friend, He did. Who do you think sent me to talk to you? Jesus really does love you."

In the end it wasn’t about having all the right scientific answers to the Intelligent Design debate, being able to explain the miracles of the Bible, or even being able to justify why his life had been so wrought with disaster. It was simply that he lacked the knowledge; ignorance in the biblical sense: he didn’t know God. He had no relationship with the Creator and Redeemer of life. If I ever saw that man again on that campus of 40,000 students I didn’t recognize him. I don’t know how God used those moments in the shadow of the Diag to create faith in the heart of one who desperately needed His love. I do know that I never saw that shirt on campus again; perhaps that absence is itself an unknown altar to God.

Download the whole article (PDF)