How do I know He’s real?

You can’t prove God’s existence by experiment, and in that sense you’ll never convince a determined atheist. But neither can you disprove Him, and the person who will only settle for that kind of convincing is passing up a boatload of evidence, both historical and philosophical. The denier must pass up on the resurrection, the history of the early church and assume that moral truth says nothing real; that meaninglessness is the ultimate end and that love is an illusion.

But I think the best, most profound evidence lies in the fact that the sense of His presence never comes when I’m expecting it. No mental assent or conviction (as fine as these are) nor emotional manipulation will conjure up His presence.

I realize this is frighteningly subjective, and I wish I could say I sensed Him every day, but I don’t. I suspect it’s more a problem with the receiving equipment than anything else, but when He comes, everything changes. And I can’t, if I am to maintain any sense of integrity, chalk it up to a mood or having had a good night’s sleep.

In a sense it’s one more piece of the puzzle. All the reasoning, historical and philosophical evidence are vitally important; but the most delightful, the wonderful thing by far is when His heart and the believer’s touch; the sense that He is other, you are known, and that you somehow, without words, have loved Him back. With that inside I can face anything.

Faith is what calls us to stick to our guns when we don’t feel that way; when He feels a million miles away and when we have only the memory and evidences to stand against moods of discouragement and temptation. It is how He builds steel into our backbones.