Sam Matteson, Physics
University of North Texas
“What have I gotten myself into?”
I had just agreed to be one of four panelists at my university discussing “Science and Faith” before an audience of undergraduates. I wasn’t bothered by the inclusion of a colleague from the biology department who would serve the opposing view. But it was the prospect of debating a certain philosopher: Joseph Barnhart, notorious atheist, devourer of Christians, professional humanist philosopher.
“Trepidation” is an uncomfortable, ill-fitting shirt of a word that, nevertheless, adequately covers my feelings. Why was I afraid? Did I think that he would prove me wrong in my faith? He was, after all, a professional philosopher; I am only an amateur. No, I think it was for a reason simpler and more banal: I feared seeming foolish.
I Learned Something
What transpired, however, I had not anticipated. Instead of a philosophical fistfight, we panelists engaged in an hour of civil discussion and intellectual exploration. We found common ground and respectfully listened to divergent points of view. I learned something. I felt that I began to understand, for the first time, Joe’s position.
A year later, after he and I again shared the podium, we talked for over an hour. He intimated his plans to retire shortly to Knoxville, Tennessee to raise his grandchildren with the help of his brother who lived there. He told me some of his pilgrimage and how he came to value the humanist philosophy. He even responded affirmatively when I rejoined that Jesus is the embodiment of the highest aspirations for humanity that his humanist philosophy posits; I continued (with less affirmation) that, on the other hand, without the gospel there is no compelling argument for imitating Christ.
I have heard that we are engaged in a war of ideas. Granted, there is a contest and an important one. When I was in the U.S. Marine Corps, I was taught that the mission of a soldier is to “destroy the enemy,” that is, to kill the poor misguided slob before he kills you.
But there is a difference, as Paul remarked, “For though we live in the world, we do not wage war as the world does.” (2 Cor. 10:3) I realized that seeing my interaction with nonbelievers as warfare is not Biblical—since we are to love them.
Horror, Not Satisfaction
So it was with horror rather than satisfaction that I heard what happened to Joe last July. He was among those seriously wounded when a gunman randomly shot several people at the Tennessee Valley Unitarian Universalist Church in Knoxville while he watched his granddaughter perform in a play. From his hospital room, Joe ended a nationally televised interview by remarking (much to my gratification) how moved he was by the compassion shown to him and the other victims by the various communities of faith, both those with whom he identified and those with whom he disagreed.
I resolved again to love, not hate, and in so doing banish my fears. As the apostle John instructs: “There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear.” 1 John 4:18
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© 2009 Samuel Matteson Used by permission of Faculty Commons