Having read some of the great thinkers—Plato, the existentialists, Heisenberg (physics and philosophy), the self-help authors Maxwell Maltz and Abraham Maslow, as well as some of the more popular variety such as Ayn Rand—I was somewhat philosophically informed. I did not grow up in a religious home, so I assumed there were no credible answers to be found in the church. I didn’t object to the possibility of God as the creator, but even if he existed, he was not relevant to my personal life. Science had pretty much buried God as far as I was concerned.
Successful & Empty
As a successful software entrepreneur in my early thirties, however, I found myself again seeking answers to the big questions of life. I was materially content with a beautiful wife and family, a lovely home in upscale Palos Verdes, California, and a promising future, but there was still that hole in my heart and a restlessness that wouldn’t go away. The next dollar, the next new car, the next new home—each one was progressively less satisfying. At the same time, the culture was relentlessly intoxicating me with its slick messaging about how wonderful everything will be when you progress up the scale of material wealth and power—if I just got to the next level, that is. There were no limits, no absolute values, nothing of eternal worth to be concerned about—just steady material progress.
But I came to a place where I needed to know more. Where is all this going? Where did it all come from? Why am I here? Peggy Lee, a popular jazz singer at the time, captured my heart well with her song, “Is That All There Is?” If that’s all there is my friend, then we’ll keep dancing, break out the booze and have a ball, if that’s all there is.
I was in an existential crisis, and no red Corvette, no adulterous relationship, no exotic vacation was going to solve it. More importantly I could no longer trust the cultural narrative or the modern sages I had been following. After three years of searching, the best “secret of life” I could come up with was “fame and fortune—and let nothing get in its way.” Each phase of the journey thus far had produced some favorable intermediary results that satisfied for a while but then quickly faded. I was exhausted. I could no longer keep manufacturing new goals. I needed big answers regarding meaning and purpose, but finding them seemed utterly out of reach. I was going to have to figure this out. More meditation on my jogs? Or perhaps there really is a Creator? What would science have to say about that?
The God Equation
While out jogging one incredibly beautiful April morning, I was stunned by a spectacular sky filled with puffy clouds. The air was crystal clear. As I gazed into the sky, the thought of a Creator came literally out of the blue and overwhelmed me. I didn’t really believe in a personal God, or at least I didn’t give the concept much thought. I was a scientific materialist, and I knew that science had the universe figured out. Everything had come together accidentally by random variation and natural selection over long periods of time. God was either a myth, or worse, a delusion. If a Creator existed, it would have to be some sort of equation. Someday scientists would discover how it all worked.
But the absolute beauty of the sky that morning was compelling—and I was desperate. I thought, “Just in case this god-equation exists, I need to add god to my meditation to make sure all bases are covered.” So, I added “g-o-d” to the bottom of the list. Now, with each rhythmic stride, “god” was in the mantra. I would soon find out that you don’t just add “god” to the bottom of any list.
Within a week, my life started falling apart. My office lost a major deposit for payroll. My Jaguar was stolen. My newest and most promising customer cancelled our largest contract and demanded his deposit back. Suddenly I was thrust into a state of fear. Not only was my meditation not working—now my real world was falling apart!
One evening, my wife and I were having dinner with an executive of a major computer company. John was a Christian. I couldn’t quite put those two descriptors together. I thought most Christians were unsophisticated in business—certainly not leaders but rather followers in need of a psychological crutch. But John was wise and could talk just as easily about the meaning of life as he could about business. I told him some of my story, and he gave me a book by Christian philosopher Francis Schaeffer. In The God Who Is There, Schaeffer explained why the natural world could not possibly be the cause of itself. There was real evidence that God had created the world and everyone in it. And that he had created it with meaning and purpose in mind. That’s what I was looking for. I was impressed, but I needed to test his thoughts against my scientific worldview.
The God Hypothesis versus Scientific Materialism
Two fundamental laws of science are called the first and second laws of thermodynamics. These are fancy labels for some things we all recognize. The first law says that in a closed system (the universe), matter and energy cannot be created or destroyed. Yet here we are! I asked myself, How could all this come about out of nothing?
The second law says that the universe is winding down to a heat death. Yet if it has an ending then it must have had a beginning. What could possibly have the power to start this whole thing off and sustain it? Science taught that it was the Big Bang, but what was the Big Bang and where did it come from? How did it get its original energy? I had never questioned these things before. These matters had been unexamined territory in college.
Schaeffer explained how all the standard scientific answers were based on an unquestioned philosophical assumption—scientific materialism. That was what was preventing me from considering the possibility that anything metaphysical might exist. He likened it to living in a one-story house (the material universe) with an attic (the metaphysical), but never peeking into the “upper story.” Schaeffer challenged me to peek and see if anything “up there” held a wider scope of answers. He triggered my curiosity to find evidence for God.
Six months later I was pondering my extensive research while driving into downtown Los Angeles. In a flash, a spectacular visual helped put the picture together. There was a hideous thick yellow smog smothering the city while tens of thousands of us drove through it without noticing the magnificent snow-covered San Gabriel Mountains glistening in the sun. Suddenly I knew that I was living in that “lower level” of a smog-laden secular city, while at the same time, the “upper level” held a brilliant blue sky over the puny idols we had built. Could this be God speaking to me? I had to peek into that upper story. But to do that would mean challenging my entrenched materialistic worldview. This would require a huge leap of faith.
In some ways, faith is a simple thing; you just believe. But I couldn’t just take a step of blind faith. I needed real evidence. Perhaps God would show himself in some fashion. After all, in my heart I knew there had to be more to life than just matter and energy. There had to be an immaterial world as well that informed my sense of beauty, my morals and values, my conscience, my sense of free will and justice, my yearning for the transcendent, as well as the love, hate, and compassion that I felt inside. None of these could be reduced to chemicals and atoms in motion, as materialism insists. I realized that the scientific materialism into which I had been indoctrinated was an unproven philosophical assumption, and as an atheistic presupposition it was no more compelling than the presupposition that God exists.
With all the courage I could muster, I asked God to reveal himself to me if he was real. There was no Hallelujah chorus or angelic visitation, but I did experience a sense of peace and anticipation that an answer would be forthcoming. My wife suggested we go to church. “Nah!” I said snidely, “I’ve been to church before and really want no part of it.”
But I was on a quest, and I wasn’t about to refuse anything reasonable. Little did I know that church would stick, and three years later I would be baptized.
A New Meditation
I was mesmerized by church. The pastor preached from the Bible as if he believed it was true. Families were bonded together. Men carried Bibles and discussed various studies. My wife and I met other couples who invited us to their homes to study the attributes of God. I started reading the Bible and was amazed that it was credible and even could be studied as a historical document. I read Galatians and became enthralled with the apostle Paul. I enjoyed the wisdom flowing out of the Bible: Proverbs (the practical), Ecclesiastes (the futility of the world), and Genesis (the beginnings). Even, amazingly to me, the creation events seemed to line up with what science was saying. The Gospel of John and the life of Jesus inspired me and made sense. God created the world, cares for it, and visited Earth in the incarnation of Jesus Christ.
God was changing my life by flipping my meditation mantra upside down. He replaced my “fame and fortune god” with trust that he would provide. We no longer worried about money and position. God would provide whatever we needed when we needed it. He replaced my “status and leadership goals” with the goal of becoming a Christ follower. I no longer had to be in charge of everything. I learned to surrender to Christ’s leadership. God replaced my “power and security needs” with the Holy Spirit. I discovered living as Paul did: “Not I, but Christ.”
The thrill of this transition has not worn off over the decades. When I retired, I started a unique club in the public square called Socrates@SaddleBrooke, where we discuss the big questions of life with seekers and skeptics like I used to be. We challenge them to think deeply about origins and destiny, to investigate the scientific evidence for a Creator, and to follow the path of inquiry wherever it may lead. We call it pre-evangelism, just as Schaeffer did. My hope is that they will come to find what I came to discover—that the world does not have the answers for true life. Real meaning and purpose can only come by looking up, seeking God, and finding a personal relationship with him through Christ. And science in its pure form, freed from the philosophical presupposition of materialism, convincingly reveals compelling evidence for a Creator.