Undeniable Divine Direction

I was a hardcore atheist who only days earlier had converted to Christianity in the wake of undeniable miraculous experiences that pointed exclusively to Jesus Christ. I knew almost nothing of the Bible. It was largely a foreign book to me, with only vague generalities about it lingering from my early childhood, hazy thoughts about it from my recent conversion at my grandmother’s funeral, and curiosity about it spurred on by the radio sermon I had just heard the day before.

It was Monday, January 3, 1994, I was only five days old as a Christian and hadn’t really begun to read the Bible yet. Nevertheless thoughts were “coming into my head” reminding me about some of the Bible verses I had heard in that radio sermon. So I got out the Bible that had been given to me at the funeral. And that was when something incredible and unmistakeably miraculous began to happen.

After getting my bearings by remembering about there being an Old Testament and New Testament of the Bible, the thoughts coming to my mind continued. The first verse I remembered from the radio sermon was something about being like a little child to enter the kingdom of heaven. I had absolutely no idea where or how to find that verse, so I just flipped a single, thick chunk of pages in the Bible to start looking, with a sort of haphazard “where is that” prayer in the back of my mind. To my surprise, I found myself looking right at that verse.

I read it and barely understood it, but I was definitely happy at having found it so easily. I mean, I hadn’t even looked at any other verse. In that huge, mysterious 1200-plus-paged Bible with it’s tens of thousands of verses, the verse sort of found me.

I really didn’t have much time to think about it, though, because almost immediately, a new thought came to mind about the controversy over whether Peter was the first pope or whatever. I say “whatever” because I had really only barely heard of it in that radio sermon and only vaguely knew it had something to with Jesus saying to Peter something like, “You are the rock.” With the same kind of half-conscious prayer, I unthinkingly found myself grasping some pages together and flipping back in the Bible. My earlier surprise now turned to excitement as I once again found myself looking directly at the verse I sought! I barely had time to read that second verse when something inside of me was telling me that the true rock of the church couldn’t possibly be a mere man, pope or no pope.

Immediately another verse came to mind—something about the stone the builders rejected becoming the main foundation stone of the temple, which I remembered was about Jesus (whom I had already begun to believe was no mere man). Again, I vaguely wondered where that verse was. I was starting to get clued in that this was New Testament stuff, and I was already in the Gospel of Matthew, but I still had no idea where to look in the couple hundred odd pages of gospel books. But there I went again, just grabbing a small group of pages, but this time turning forward in the Bible. Again, there I was "accidentally" looking right at the the third verse I sought! Excitement now turned to full-on rush as I read the words of the very verse I had been seeking.

Once again, I barely had time to think about it because I found myself thinking “Isn’t that verse somewhere in the Old Testament?” I wasn’t sure if I had remembered that from the radio sermon or what, but I found myself (it all was done almost unthinkingly) grabbing a huge chunk of pages and turning back to about the middle of the Bible deep into the Old Testament. And there the verse was. For the fourth time in a row I had "randomly" found the very verse I was looking for. I was honestly beginning to get dizzy with the rush flowing through me.

That was enough for me. I was about as filled to the brim as one person could handle. It was as if waves of something were rushing through my body, something indescribable yet wonderful beyond words. The whole experience exuded with the presence of a miracle-working being, a being who not only knew both my innermost thoughts and the Bible intimately, but who also could guide my hands and eyes to find what I sought. Was this being God, whom I had accepted into my life only four days earlier at my grandmother's funeral? I could only conclude that being was indeed God Almighty, or the presence and workings of God in an angelic being—or both. I'd soon be telling my old party friends about how God was giving me a divine tour of the Bible!

Honestly, I would never have expected in my former atheism that any such experience could ever happen to a sane individual (and I’m sure some feel the only explanation is that I lost my mind). But those who know me best know that I had trained my mind to systematically exclude supernatural explanations. Yet I had just undergone four experiences in a row that could only be explained supernaturally. Trust me, my habitually rationalistic mind was even still at work trying to explain it all in any other way but a supernatural way. Yet all other explanations would ultimately chalk it all up to mere chance or coincidence, the odds against which are astronomical, especially when you include many other similar experiences that also happened. To me, only a die-hard skeptic could be comfortable with such rationalizations — a blinder faith than the supposed "blind faith" believers are accused of having! (I’ve conservatively estimated that the odds of it all happening by chance are about the same as one person winning the lottery a million times in a row).

But I suppose I shouldn’t have really been surprised at this “quadruple miracle” (perhaps a “quadruple heart bypass”!)—no surprise considering the miraculous events that led to my conversion four days earlier at my grandmother’s funeral. But my whole way of thinking had only just begun to be rearranged.

First Shock in the Dark

As I mentioned in my first post (click here for my first post, which contains the most startling and objective evidence to date), I was formerly a die-hard atheist, and I had been so for several years. Actually, if you asked me, I would tell you something like, “I’m not exactly an atheist, because why define yourself by unbelief in a nonexistent God?” or “Atheism is just a minor consequence of my overall philosophy.” And I really thought I had it together, that although I didn’t and couldn’t know everything, that I nevertheless had a rational worldview that would stand the test of time. A worldview with no place for God or anything supernatural.

That all began to change on December 24th, 1993, Christmas Eve. In true bachelor form that day, I was doing all of my shopping the day before Christmas. I had already become close enough with my new girlfriend Elisa (now my wife) over the past month that she and I were shopping together that day. Later as we drove back from the mall toward my home at my brother Carl’s house, I had this nagging feeling that I had forgotten to buy a gift for someone in my family. The nagging feeling built up into a level of annoyance that seemed out of proportion to the circumstances. There had to be something more disturbing underneath it all. There was something uncanny about it that I couldn’t figure out.

Back home, we dropped off the packages in my back room and entered the rear door into the kitchen. It was then that my brother Carl approached us with a sort of burdened yet purposeful look on his face. “Blaine, did you hear about Grandma?” “Yeah,” I answered, “she broke her hip on Monday.” He sort of shrugged that off. “Oh, no. She passed away today.” Just then in a confusing mix of relief and guilt I realized that the person I didn’t remember to buy a gift for was my grandmother. Strange coincidence, but I was too much in shock to really think about it. After discussing it a bit more with my brother, I headed back out to my room to think.

In the light of the globe-shaped candle she had bought me, Elisa and I lay on my bed together, embracing side-by-side. She kept quiet under the circumstances, and I began to think about how my grandmother’s death was actually for the better. After 57 years of marriage to my grandfather after which she had been a widow for almost 10 years, she had deteriorated mentally to the point that she didn’t even recognize me anymore. I had a brief thought that she’s moved on to a better place. But the “rational” side of me reminded me of my skepticism of life-after-death, so I considered the thought a mere throwback to my childhood influences, or something people tend to comfort themselves with in these circumstances. I could only put that kind of thinking far from my mind.

Just then, something happened I really didn't expect: the candle suddenly went out. I could not even come close to preparing for what happened next. Before me I “saw” my grandmother’s face. She was smiling peacefully—a look I hadn’t seen from her since before my grandfather died—a look that anyone in my family would remember seeing in the photos of the two of them together that we kept on the piano back at home. I sensed my grandfather’s joyful presence behind her. All the while a part of me was seriously fighting this whole “vision” (not so ghostly, more in my mind’s eye but still in front of me, as if I momentarily could see into another dimension rather than her invading mine.).

In my resistance it came as quite a jolt to my mind when the next thing I “realized” something impossible to my mindset: Somehow I felt and could almost see that Jesus was standing at the head of the bed behind us with his arms spread wide around us all. I didn’t look back because it was almost as if I could somehow see behind me, but even stronger was the feeling of an overwhelming, compelling, yet loving presence.

My mind had to snap shut (often the mind does this when it is faced with something that is so utterly contrary to its beliefs that it must explain it away at all costs.) It’s just my early childhood upbringing, wishful thinking, and western cultural influences creeping in again, I thought. Of course. My grandma just died and I’m grieving. Plus I didn’t actually “see” anything by any rational standard. Yes, that’s it. Far be it from me to believe in any God or ghostly visions. Put it out of my mind. What is, is what is. Nothing more. Tell no one of this experience, not even your girlfriend lying next to you. Chalk it up to silly, childish, wishful thinking. Yes. You are an atheist, and an atheist you will remain. Shrug it off and get back to reality.

That was where I left off. But the stage had merely been set for something far larger.

No Denying It Anymore

My grandmother’s funeral was set for December 30th. Life went on as normal for several days after Christmas with little or no thought of the events of Christmas Eve. At the time I was actually working harder than ever—almost 70 hours a week, six days a week, with the seventh day taken up doing mandatory community service to work off an overdue traffic ticket fine. I made sure to get the day off for the funeral, which was to take place in Hemet, California, where my grandparents, uncle and cousins had all lived for many years. Family gatherings always seemed to bring out both the best and worst in me and my kin, so you never quite knew what was in store. But this was different than your average gathering.

At the funeral my father read the eulogy he had prepared. He was a great writer and speaker, always chock full of witty little gems. And although we had our political differences, I would generally have agreed with the overall humanistic spirit of his thoughts. But as I leaned against my sister in the bittersweet sorrow of the ceremony, certain thoughts contrary to my dad’s wise words kept creeping into my head, thoughts that really didn’t seem like my thoughts at all because they were so foreign to my way of thinking.

Underneath all of the strong emotions that attend the burial of a loved one, I began to get the uncanny feeling that these contrary thoughts weren’t coming from inside my head at all, but from outside. All the while the “rational” part of me was fighting them off in the background as if they were foreign invaders to my mind—specifically religious invaders that kept coming in waves. This is no mere metaphorical speech, either—the perception was now very clear that these were not my thoughts at all. But that idea was just too much for me to swallow, and so I had to ignore it. Plus I felt petty for dwelling on these things when I should be focusing on honoring my grandmother’s memory.

Then my uncle stood up to perform what seemed to me to be some sort of Protestant last rites. My uncle is not as eloquent a man as my late father, and he also struggles under the weight of a checkered past. All he really did was read from his big blue Bible. The first verse he read struck me because it said in traditional King James Bible language the same sort of message as one of the contrary thoughts that had come into my head earlier during the eulogy. At first that didn’t seem such a surprise; if the thoughts popping into my head were religious in nature that they’d be sure to have a parallel to a Bible verse. But then the second verse he read was also a biblical rephrasing of another of the contrary thoughts I had had. And on it went, each verse paralleling a thought, for either five or six verses (to this day I don’t know the verses). To make it more startling, somewhere along the way I realized that the verses were summarizing the contrary thoughts I had had in the same order I had them! Something very strange and seemingly beyond coincidence was happening, something I couldn’t so easily sweep under the carpet as I had with the Christmas Eve vision (and even that now came back to me).

There had to be a rational explanation. Perhaps my uncle had just chosen those verses in rebuttal to the humanistic thoughts my dad had spoken during the eulogy. After all, they were known to butt heads on occasion. But then it dawned on me that there could have been a wide variety of religious thoughts one could have thought during the eulogy. How could my uncle have thought point-by-point exactly what I had thought—unless he was some sort of mind reader, which was also out of the question. But even if he had consciously chosen the verses, though, I couldn’t forget that I was already convinced that the contrary thoughts did not originate in my mind in the first place. They were just too foreign to my way of thinking. I was being confronted with so many anomalies challenging my atheistic and anti-supernatural worldview that something had to give. I suddenly had the overwhelming but wordless sense that I really knew almost nothing.

The funeral had ended, as had my firm grip on certainty. I approached my uncle in a strange sort of mental shock that was also a kind of peaceful surrender. The foundations of my world had crumbled away, but instead of feeling panic, there was a strange calm and awe. I said to him something like, “The Bible verses you read were point-by-point the same ideas as these thoughts that came into my head during the eulogy.”

To my surprise he didn’t even raise an eyebrow. Instead he smiled with this creepy look of “knowing” that I was beginning to think shouldn’t really seem so creepy after all. “It’s like somebody’s been reading your mail, huh?” he said.

I barely mumbled out a “yeah.” I can’t remember exactly what I said next, but it was something like “So what do I do now?”

He said something about sitting down and looking at the Bible with him, which at this point I had no real objections to doing. I had already experienced something undeniably supernatural directly related to that book, and it really wasn’t a very far leap to become a believer in its key figure, Jesus Christ. All of those verses and everything inside and outside of me seemed to be pulling me almost irresistibly toward that decision. So after looking through some scriptures and saying a new believer’s prayer, it was done. I had become a Christian.

My uncle handed me that Bible and said, “It’s yours.” (So many miracles would continue to surround that Bible that I almost came to believe it had special powers! For one astonishing example, click here for my first post.) My uncle then gave me a brief talk on prayer and Bible reading, encouraging me to feed spiritually on God’s word daily just as I feed my body. He also warned me about the spiritual warfare to come, that there was doubt ahead and danger of falling away from Christianity. Then he sent me on my way, new Bible in hand, as the funeral party was dispersing.

Back at his house, I sat at a small table and opened the Bible. I really couldn’t absorb much of anything I read it in, but it was nice that several of my relatives came alongside and expressed their joy at my conversion. Still others seemed to shake their head with disbelief or condescension. The rest of the day seemed insignificant compared to the magnitude of the miraculous events of the funeral, and even that seemed a strangely remote and isolated event that I still couldn’t quite get my mind around (and still quite can’t). In fact, the very next day saw some of the spiritual battle my uncle had warned me about. I was already beginning to “fall away.” But as you hopefully read earlier, God's undeniable divine direction would soon come with miraculous power and get me back on track. God would not let me slip away so easily.

So many more miraculous Christ-centered things would happen over the course of the next year or so that I would come to see the insanity of ever doubting in Jesus again. In fact, I soon realized and still can only believe that it takes much more faith to believe in chance explanations than it does to believe in the supernatural. I could go on and on about other miracles that happened, some that sound so crazy and so hard to believe that I hesitate to share them. I do plan to share some of them in the near future.

One word of clarification. I do not tell these things to people to brag or puff myself up as some sort of holy man. I am just a sinner saved by grace—the same grace God makes available to everyone through Christ. I don't really enjoy blabbing on and on about my miracle-filled experiences—this is not an exercise in self-gratification. In fact, I have not shared them often and have waited almost 19 years to publish this, and then only after feeling strong conviction to do so. I share them now so that people can at least better understand for themselves why I now am the man I am, and hopefully for them to consider what import these things may have to their own lives. Perhaps you were even meant to read this....

Answering Skeptics

In the comments section of my first post (Undeniable Divine Direction), a question came from a skeptic named Michael (I believe this was none other than Michael Shermer, the well-known founder of The Skeptics Society and Skeptic magazine, since a friend of mine said he had just debated the head of a skeptic's society and sent him my link only the day prior to receiving the comment). I thought it worthy of publishing as a short post along with my answer. I may add to this post from time to time as similar questions and answers arise.

Q. You claim that all this really happened to you, and for the sake of argument let's say that it did. Why should anyone besides YOU believe it happened (let alone that a god of any kind was involved)? You give a personal testimony that cannot be verified, tested, or repeated. Was your former "harcore atheist" position devoid of such demands for evidence? Do you not see how the former you would find such a story to be incredibly suspect? Stories like these happen to people in all religions. Do you allow for their gods to be real too, or just your particular god? -Michael

A. Thanks for commenting, Michael. Your criticisms are understandable, and in fact they were in my mindset at the time I was going through these things and since then. You should consider, however, that testimonial/historical evidence is not rendered invalid just because it is not subject to scientific repeatability testing. Historical events are by very nature singular and unrepeatable, and can sometimes only be known by testimonial evidence--and the trustworthiness and reliability of the witnesses is key here. Those who knew me before and after can attest that these events are things I claimed at the time they were happening and that I became a radically changed person. This offers some historical verification, although those who wanted to be more sure I wasn't lying or delusional would undoubtedly prefer a more rigorous investigation and are welcome to it. I have to ask, if what happened to me happened to you, would you say to yourself, "Well, I have to ignore it all, because it is not subject to scientific proof, and skeptics will have a hard time believing me"?

As for doubting whether "any kind of god was involved," I am aware the involvement of God is unprovable in this (I already implied this in the third-to-last paragraph of the post). However, the extreme mathematical improbability of it argues resoundingly against chance explanations. And barring the idea that I was influencing my own reality with my thoughts and miraculously guiding my own hands to whatever scriptures I sought, we are left with some sort of outside being who knew my thoughts (even directed my thoughts), knew where they were to be found in the Bible and in my copy in particular, and who could guide my hands to the particular page and my eyes to the specific part of the page. Also, none of this happened in a historical vacuum, but days after my conversion to Christianity when my faith was already wavering. A pretty tidy package if you ask me!

As for other people and their religious experiences, I have considered this for many years as well. In fact, by "coincidence" (smiles), my very next post (Beyond Divine Handholding), mostly written years ago but only now about to be published [now published here], discusses that topic. Please feel free to read that and respond with another comment if you like. Thanks for reading.

*Other answers to Skeptics by former atheist Josh McDowell:
Answers to Skeptics

Beyond Divine Handholding

Through God's miraculous workings the night my grandmother died and at her funeral, I had just become a Christian. The very next day was New Year's Eve 1993, and I found myself going into 1994 already falling away from my new found faith. At least it hadn't sunk in to the point that it changed my behavior.

But God would not let me slip away so easily, and had plans to ignite my faith with the "quadruple miracle" you hopefully read about in my first post. Come to think of it, even the radio sermon I had stumbled upon the night before had the fingerprints of God all over it. First off, I rarely listened to the radio in my room, and then I certainly never listened to any religious radio station. Yet there I found myself feeling prompted to turn on my radio, and it just so happened to be tuned crystal clear to that "preacher dude". The verses he preached on were the same ones that I thought to find in my Bible the next fateful day when God set my faith on fire with that undeniable divine direction. It's funny how obvious things become when you look back at them. But as I said, my whole way of thinking had only just begun to be rearranged.

When I used to share this more when I was in the midst of it all, some people would ask, “How come stuff like that never happens to me?” (After all, is it God’s usual way to reach out to mocking atheists?) I can’t answer any of this definitively, but I can tell you this: My firm belief is that God was holding my hand when I was a baby Christian, not because I was strong, but because I was weak and couldn’t hold on without it.

This divine handholding did not come without its consequences in my life. There came a time a little less than a year into my new life that I went through a difficult weaning period when the miraculous handholding almost trickled to a stop. I can say in retrospect that God was letting go of my hand and saying, “Walk by faith.” But it was quite a struggle to come down off such a spiritual high as the miracle junkie I had become. Thoughts that God had somehow abandoned me were common at that time. Not that the miracles disappeared altogether, but just that they became the exception rather than the rule.

I realize that people of other beliefs can also tell of their spiritual experiences. Spiritual experiences in and of themselves are insufficient to really “prove” anyone’s case. My own experiences, however, had led me to have a great respect for the Bible as God’s word, with all of its claims to being the only trustworthy word of God. Indeed, many of my experiences had been directly aligned to that particularly unmistakable conclusion. Some of the most profound miracles have pointed me firmly back again and again to Jesus being the only way to heaven (as he claimed to be), one most crucially at a pivotal moment when I was questioning whether Jesus is really the only way (to be shared later).

And then there is the fact that, to my alarm, I found that there is an occult practice of using various “holy books” and turning to (typically three) passages in them to seek spiritual guidance. Not exactly a description of my experiences, however, because of the unintentional nature of my experience, the initial experience in general (and not just with any “holy book” either). Yet enough to make me take pause and take care not to promote such a practice as normal, treating the Bible like some kind of horoscope. Some pastors have even called it “Bible roulette” because of its potential for bringing about misleading “guidance” that can even be disastrous.

God was indeed leading me to another kind of faith much deeper than the kind propped up by constant miracles: A faith in His Word. And by this I don’t mean a superficial and unquestioning faith. There were plenty of areas of the Bible that I had great difficulty in accepting and would often cry out to God for reasonable answers to what seemed unanswerable questions...not that I accused the Maker of outright injustice. Perhaps the miracles I had experienced had given me a deep enough trust in God’s goodness that I knew there had to be good answers, even if sometimes I couldn’t see it and actually felt the opposite. But neither did I avoid asking the hard questions. Often God would answer these over time, sometimes years later.

This deeper faith based on trusting in the accuracy of the Bible was far deeper than the kind propped up by constant miracles or haphazard Bible reading. I am not talking about blind faith, but rather a faith that I would come to see rests on the profound historical evidence that Jesus rose from the dead. His resurrection is the only thing that really makes sense of the history of the birth of Christianity. Some people try to tell themselves that Christianity was invented by power-hungry men intent on ruling over people. I used to think that myself. The actuality is that Jesus’ followers gained absolutely nothing, unless you want call severe persecution and horrific martyrdom gain! And all of this because they refused to stop preaching that they and many hundreds of others were eyewitnesses of the risen Christ.

It is unimaginable that a group of people would invent something that not only brought them no benefit but also led to severe persecution and incredibly brutal death sentences. Who would die for a lie? Someone would have waffled and confessed under the heat if it were a conspiracy. Or maybe they were all mistaken. How could so many eyewitnesses be wrong? Similarly, who would die a tortuous death for something if they weren’t absolutely sure about it? In fact, for three centuries, the church was built on the blood of the persecuted and the martyred in a continual line of succession from the first eyewitnesses of the resurrected Jesus.

All other conspiracy theories inevitably fail for the same reasons, and other alternative explanations are far more outlandish than just believing the resurrection. Other counter-arguments include that the New Testament was written too long after the actual events, that the Bible has been seriously corrupted, or that there are no contemporary historical documents outside the Bible mentioning the same events. I have seriously considered each of these and have found all to be demonstrably false. In all my years as an atheist I never would have expected that the Bible could withstand such historical scrutiny—particularly the historical evidence for that key miracle of the Bible, the resurrection of Jesus. I would never have expected that the Christian faith could prove so eminently reasonable.

I have found that most people have not seriously investigated these things for the main reason that they just don’t want to believe in the first place. They’d rather believe anything than biblical Christianity. Some avoid thinking about it all. Others make Jesus the spokesman for whatever they want to believe and ignore his actual teachings. Others mock the miraculous as I once did, hiding behind “science,” or “reason,” or “being modern.” Or they pretend they can dismiss Jesus out of hand by tying him to a political party they dislike, or by lumping him with the worst examples of “Christianity.” Or they avoid taking a stand on religious matters for fear of being insensitive, intolerant, or arrogant.

On this last point, I'd have to say that I do not prefer to exclude other religious points of view—but that is not my choice. It was Jesus himself, not me, who claimed to be the only way, and he proved it by rising from the dead three days after his death and burial, as the historical record amply attests. And it was Jesus himself who said that his resurrection would be the only sign given to everyone equally, that it alone would be enough to support anyone’s faith in him. And hopefully my story can help you in your decision as well.

Some questions still remain, but the things I am certain of far outweigh any lingering doubts. I have come to find that a large part of nurturing a deeper faith is to ask the hard questions while at the same time expecting the goodness of the God who showed so much goodness to me and to millions of others like me set free by Jesus Christ. The miracles alone were enough for me to last a lifetime. Yet I thank God that I now stand on a much stronger pillar of faith than any of the fleeting miracles I or anyone else can ever experience in this lifetime. And that is the resurrection, the central tenet of the Christian faith, without which all the other claims of the Bible are nothing. As it is written, “If Christ is not raised, then you are still in your sins.” Without the resurrection, Christ’s death could not be for anyone’s sins.

Yes, I am a Bible thumper—if by Bible thumper you mean one whose heart thumps to the beat of the very words of God. Or if you mean one who has heard the thump of the gavel declaring all people guilty of falling short of the glory of God. Or if you mean one who knows the thump of the hammer that drove the nails into the hands and feet of the Savior, or the thump of the cross upon which He was hung as it was thrust into the earth. Or if you mean the thump of the stone placed on His tomb—or rather the thump of its miraculous removal three days later. Or if you mean one whose heart thumps with the presence of the risen Savior living within it. How could it be any other way? With the Lord as my witness, I would have it no other way. And I pray you will choose the same.

I encourage everyone who reads this to contact me for further discussion if you like. For now, though, I’ll leave you to consider the impact Jesus has had on the world—greater than any other historical figure. As Dr. James Allan Francis put it, “He was born in an obscure village. He worked in a carpenter's shop until He was thirty. He then became an itinerant preacher. He never held office. He never had a family or owned a house. He didn't go to college. He had no credentials but Himself. Twenty centuries have come and gone, and today, He is the central figure of the human race. All the armies that ever marched, and all the navies that ever sailed, all the parliaments that ever sat, and all the kings that ever reigned have not affected the life of man on this earth as much as that ONE SOLITARY LIFE.” I pray you will seriously investigate all of these things, and if it helps, remembering my story as you do.


*Books and films by former atheist Lee Strobel
The Case for Christ (a shortened film version available on Netflix or DVD)
The Case for Faith (a shortened film version available on Netflix or DVD)
The Case for a Creator

*Books by former atheist Josh McDowell
Free resources for skeptics and others
More Than a Carpenter
Evidence that Demands a Verdict

*By former atheist C.S. Lewis
Mere Christianity
The Problem of Pain

*If you want to receive Christ:
Steps to Peace with God

The Passing of My Father

I would like to take a moment to spotlight something so momentous and astonishing that I would be remiss if I left it hiding on the fringes here. Some readers may have noticed the "my late father" hyperlink in an earlier post, clicked it, and found the miracle-filled account of "The Passing of My Father". Some may also have noticed it listed over on the side of this blog under "More Miracle-filled Accounts". Short of re-posting "The Passing of My Father" on this blog, I wanted to make sure no one missed it, which is why I am spotlighting it in this post.

LENGTH ALERT: "The Passing of My Father" is somewhat longer than my usual posts here, although not for lack of punch. For those of you who might shy away from reading something a little longer for lack of time, you can always start with this shorter excerpt called "The Miracle of the Harp". As always, thanks for reading.