How I Reasoned from Skepticism to Christianity

HOW I REASONED FROM SKEPTICISM TO CHRISTIANITY

A Close Call

While I was at college in the early 1960's, my parents separated and then divorced. I bought a 1950 Hudson for $150.00. With its big engine, it was a fast car for its day, but this one ran on as much oil as gasoline. It could hold all my worldly possessions, but was a poor substitute for the loss of a home.

One night I was returning to school on a road I hadn't driven before. Suddenly a sharp right-hand curve appeared in the headlights. I was going too fast to safely negotiate it, so I planned to drift over the centerline into the other lane. That way I would increase the radius of the curve and buy time to handle the extra speed. Just as I started to do this, a car suddenly appeared, coming in the opposite direction around the curve. To miss him, I steeled myself and put the steering wheel hard over, fully expecting the rear end of the nose-heavy Hudson to break lose. (This happened to me another time when I hit a patch of ice on the highway and suddenly I was going backward at 60 m.p.h.) Instead of going into a spin, or swapping ends, the auto went right around the curve, cheap tires and all!

I was amazed - I exclaimed out loud to nobody in particular "That shouldn't have happened!" As if in answer, I had a vision of a giant hand reaching down, grasping the car, and guiding it around the curve. I mulled over the information I had just received. An apparently providential action by God possibly saved my life and/or the lives of those in the other car. It was an act of grace too, because I was living the way I wanted, not the way God would have liked. Finally, it implied that God was personally interested in me and involved in my life. What a dilemma for me who was at that time was a professing agnostic/skeptic!

I wanted to reason everything out, but this incident didn't fit the equation, so to speak. This was data I really didn't want to analyze! In our society, reason and the supernatural are often considered mutually exclusive, but is it reasonable to exclude your own experiences? And isn't science based on reason and experience? So what was I to think?

Background

I was raised a Methodist, which was a temperance church at the time - members were to abstain from alcohol. My father came from a hard-drinking family, so there was always liquor in the house even though he was a trustee in our church. It appeared to me that my father was going to church for business and social reasons rather than out of any spiritual concerns. I became skeptical about religion. I went to Sunday School and Methodist Youth Fellowship, but like my father, there was no strong spiritual commitment behind my activity.

The Fifties in America were a time of optimism for the future and a growing faith in science. I turned to science thinking that it might have all the answers. I joined the science club at Lewis and Clark High School in Spokane, Washington, eventually becoming its president. Out of my earnings from working first as a paperboy, and then part-time as a messenger for Western Union, I subscribed toScientific American. The articles in that magazine reinforced the idea that science could provide the answers.

At School

Money was tight in our family, so I went to nearby Washington State University. I could not afford to go all the way for an advanced degree in science. Therefore I pragmatically chose to major in Chemical Engineering, a program that required a lot of science, but where a Bachelor's Degree could earn a decent living. Now away from home, I stopped going to church. When a woman once asked me what I believed, I replied "I'm a heathen - the Bible is full of them." Usually, though, I said that I was an agnostic, which is commonly understood to mean that God's existence couldn't be demonstrated. Actually, I was more of a skeptic because I was open to proof that God existed. I mulled over some of the classic arguments such as design in nature. One reason for this is that deep down, I seemed to sense the voice of God, asking "What about Me?"

When I studied biology, I learned evolution from the textbook, Life, An Introduction to Biology (1957), coauthored by the noted evolutionist, George Gaylord Simpson. In the Preface, the authors assert that "The most general principle of all biology is evolution." They lament that other authors "fail in the conviction that it [evolution] is really true." By contrast, Simpson and his coauthor "have tried to make evolution as pervasive as it really is in the world of life." In spite of the authors' belief that it is true, I did not find evolutionary theory convincing because I was learning thermodynamics at the same time in my engineering and physics classes.

The Second Law of Thermodynamics could be called the law of decay. Simply stated, if someone does not repair the leaks in the roof and paint the house when needed, it will gradually deteriorate. There is an observable and measurable force in nature that breaks down complex things having more order, more information, or useful energy into simpler components having less order, information, or useful energy. This is in contrast to macroevolution, which asserts that the many complex species we see developed gradually from a few, simple beings. Also, it implies that ultimately we came from a chance mixture of chemicals. None of these things are measurable or even observable; nor does macroevolution or chemical evolution explain where all the information came from that programed our height, eye color, etc. Considering the universe as a closed system, it was easy for me to chose a law over an unsupported idea. I was left wondering why macroevolution and its implied chance beginning had not been rejected already. On what basis could the authors of my textbook, or anyone else, say it is true? I had not yet realized macroevolution's appeal to some people as a naturalistic explanation for how we got here. These same people want to appear "scientific" and so define science in terms of naturalism instead of reason and experience.

I worked part-time in one of the cafeterias during the school year and took whatever jobs I could get during the summers. In the process, I fought forest fires and a flood in Northern Idaho, worked in sawmills, sold door-to-door, painted a building, and canned Del Monte pears. I lived as a cautious hedonist, absorbed, as the saying goes, by wine, women, and song.

The U.S. Air Force

Washington State was a land-grant school, so reserve officer training was mandatory for men for the first two years. I signed up for Air Force ROTC because the Army drill period conflicted with a chemistry lab. At that time I had no intention of seeking a military career, but as it turned out, that little conflict between Army drill and a chemistry lab affected my whole life. After those two years of mandatory training, the Kennedy/Johnson/MacNamara undeclared "war" in Southeast Asia had escalated rapidly. Therefore I applied for and was accepted into, the advanced program. On 31 January 1964, I was commissioned as a Second Lieutenant in the U.S. Air Force Reserves along with my graduating with a B.S. degree in Chemical Engineering.

The logical place to send a Chemical Engineer was the Air Force Rocket Propulsion Laboratory at Edwards AFB, California, located in the Mojave Desert. There I was assigned to the Chemistry Laboratory where I used a Time-of-Flight Mass Spectrometer to analyze new rocket propellants as they were fired in a laboratory combustor. (See the news clipping on the right.) At last I was working with scientists and using state-of-the-art research tools.

The scientists I met at the Chem Lab were an interesting bunch. The ones I worked with had their Ph.D.'s, mostly in chemistry. They were accessible, and not arrogant. They did, however, have stories of other scientists' arrogance and narrow- mindedness. I heard about fights over priority of discovery, patents, and the order of names on research papers accepted for publication. Other stories were about personal faults and failings the same as you would find in any segment of the population. In short, scientists were ordinary human beings whose specialty happened to be science. I found the same thing in contacts with other scientists while working at the Lawrence Livermore National Laboratory and at the Air Force Aerospace Research Laboratories. From these experiences, I saw that science and scientists didn't have all the answers, and maybe they never would.

While stationed at the Rocket Propulsion Lab, I met Sharon Ann Wilhelm, a good-looking woman with excellent character. We were married at Sacred Heart Catholic Church in nearby Lancaster, 17 October 1965. Our son Brenden was born at Edwards eleven months later while we were living in base housing. I wasn't making much money, but life was good. We were healthy - I was happily married and had an interesting job.

As my commitment to the Air Force was coming to a close, I pondered the civilian job situation. NASA was about to reach the moon and, nearing the accomplishment of its major mission, was not hiring. Soon it would be laying off scientists and engineers. Also, because of the expense of the conflict in Southeast Asia, research money was getting tighter. Sharon had no problems being an Air Force officer's wife. I decided to stay in the service beyond my commitment. For some reason I felt an urge to apply for a special program where select officers were assigned to the then Lawrence Radiation Laboratory (LRL) at Livermore, California. Those in charge of the program wanted me to have a Masters degree, but finally decided that my research publications balanced out that requirement. Now a Captain with a Regular commission, I reported to LRL in 1968.

Lawrence Livermore National Laboratory

At that time the task of the national laboratory at Livermore was nuclear weapons research and development. Protesters from Berkeley occasionally appeared there. One time I stood on one side of the fence and heard leftist Tom Hayden on the other side give a propagandistic speech from the back of a flatbed truck. Emotion seemed more at play than reason - there were no answers here!

I also heard several talks by the lab's guiding light, Hungarian-born Edward Teller (shown at right). Teller's views about the nature of communism were understandable given Khrushchev's brutal crushing of Hungarian patriots in 1956. There had been student-led riots in Budapest that had spread to other towns and villages in Hungary. This forced the resignation of "little Stalin" Matyas Rakosi. The new leader, Imre Nagy, attempted to satisfy the people's discontent by promising free elections. Using the cover of the Suez Crisis, Khrushchev sent in 5,000 tanks and 250,000 troops in a bloody Soviet response. Those wanting free elections and a more liberal society were crushed. Nagy sought asylum in the Yugoslavian Embassy, which he later left, foolishly believing communist promises of safety. He was quickly arrested, convicted of treason, and executed in 1958. It was obvious communism didn't have a human face, and only maintained itself by brute force - there were no answers here!

Home

One day a Jehovah's Witness came to my home to talk about the Bible (something that could not have happened in base housing). I thought I knew the Scriptures from my Sunday School classes, but he was well trained in those parts of the Bible relating to his beliefs. Challenged, I started to read the Bible more carefully and to study a book I bought from him that summarized the Bible. My wife, seemingly busy in the kitchen, listened like Sara in her tent and later would ask me probing questions about what was said.

As I studied the Bible, it took on a coherency I had not realized before. Even though different authors wrote the Bible, there was a logic and comprehensiveness to it. I could discern common threads, as if God were the ultimate Author. In retrospect, I attribute this to God opening my heart. Once again this was a dilemma for an agnostic/skeptic who was trying to prove the existence of God scientifically.

Some people can live with unresolved tension in their lives, but not me. Engineers are trained problem solvers and I was working on this one. To slice through the quandary, I posed a hypothetical question. Suppose I had examined thoroughly every argument for the existence of God and concluded that it took a leap of faith, what then? After thinking it over, I decided I would believe. If so, then why bother testing every argument? Why not just believe since I would end up believing anyway? So I did. It was 1968.

Believing in God answered the big questions about origins that real science could not. Questions like: Did the Big Bang really occur? How could particles blown outward by this primal explosion acrete together to make stars, galaxies, solar systems, and planets? Did we actually evolve from chemicals? In what way could fabulously complex molecules like deoxyribonucleic acid (DNA) form? Where did the fantastically detailed information in DNA come from? What is the explanation for the Cambrian Explosion, where diverse and complex animals abruptly appear early in the fossil record? How is it that the trilobite's eye was fully functional and completely adapted to its environment right at the start? Where is the evidence of a pre-trilobite? Why do humans have capabilities far beyond what is needed to survive in our environment? And so on.

Christianity

Believing in God now opened me up to the claims of all the various religions. Which was the right one? I had studied the belief systems of Asia at school, and had practiced physical yoga. What I knew of comparative religions was that Christianity made the strongest claims, so I chose to examine it first. Also, the gods of the East were mystical, infinite, and impersonal. My experience indicated that God was closer to the infinite-personal God of Christianity.

I had been reading Eric Hoffer's books. As he labored as a migrant worker throughout California, Hoffer read books from all the local libraries, and slowly became a self-educated man. He developed a thesis about mass movements that he published as The True Believer (1951). The timing of his books were perfect for the youth rebellion of the 60's. Now a longshoreman, Hoffer was lionized both publicly for what someone could do outside the "system" and not-so-publicly for his attack on Christianity.

In Hoffer's analysis, the true believer is a personal failure. He/she joins a mass movement to identify with its successes. The true believer shouts the slogans and wears the signs of the mass movement. I liked his "stages of revolution," especially the "militant man of words" who prepares the way. But I did not buy his "interchangeability of mass movements."

As I examined Hoffer, I realized Christianity was an exception to his thesis. Jesus, Christianity's founder, was killed after only a few years of leadership. The apostles were not Hoffer's fanatical, non-creative men of words. Paul of Tarsus is the only possible candidate for this category, but he was a persecutor of Christians until he experienced a sudden conversion. Converts were persecuted for hundreds of years, often in cruel and unusual ways. There were no successes and triumphs for personal failures to identify with. In short, Christianity as a mass movement should never have got off the ground. This conclusion was reinforced by an incident I read in the Bible.

In Chapter Four of the Book of Acts, the Sanhedrin order the Apostles to stop preaching Christ. These rulers of Israel had been behind the execution of Jesus and had no qualms about killing any of His followers. The Apostles ignore the threat and continue to preach. In Chapter Five, the Temple police arrest the Apostles, the Sanhedrin try them, and are ready to put them to death (Acts5:33). Gamaliel, a respected member, interrupts the proceedings, orders the Apostles outside for a while, and addresses his colleagues. He reminds them that they had been in this situation before. Both of the times this occurred in the past, they had executed the leaders, and their respective movements fell apart. He points out that the same thing has happened here. The leader is dead and the movement will fall apart - unless. . . . Unless, he adds, it is of God. In which case, if the Sanhedrin kill Jesus' followers, they will be resisting God - something they don't want to do. Then, according to Acts, they accept Gamaliel's advice, have the Apostles flogged, and let them go.

When I read Gamaliel's advice in Acts, Chapter Five, I took it as confirmation of my analysis that because of early persecution, Christianity should not have become a mass movement - unless. . . . Unless, of course God was and is behind it. Obviously the only way Christianity could have survived was for God to have kept it going. Finally, here was an answer! Again, in retrospect, it was God moving my heart to Him. And so I became a Christian in 1969 in Livermore, California. I accepted the infinite God Who also exists as a man, Jesus, and personally interacts with humans.

In becoming a Christian I didn't throw reason out the window. Reason and experience is how I became a Christian.

POSTSCRIPT

The above was on my website for some time. Then a Japanese doctor interested in Christianity e-mailed me for "the rest of the story." Specifically he asked about my career - how was it that I changed from chemical engineering to the history of science? The following is based on my reply.

When I became a Christian, I was not sure if I should stay in the Air Force. I studied the Bible for an answer. I noticed that Jesus and his followers encountered several military men and yet did not condemn them for being in the army. As a matter of fact, the first non-Jewish convert was Cornelius, a Roman Centurion. Also, Paul wrote that new converts might as well stay in the same occupation as before. So I stayed in the Air Force for over 20 years.

As I grew spiritually, I continued to seek God's direction in my life. For one of my assignments, I prayed that God would guide me to the job he wanted me to do. As I was ending my tour of duty at Aerospace Research Laboratories, Air Force personnel saw that I had the B.S. and M.S. degrees and had worked in three different research labs. I was asked to go to the Air Force Institute of Technology and teach personnel newly assigned to the government laboratory system. I thought this was God's leading and took the job. I found that I liked teaching - it was both an answer to my prayer and I hint of the future.

Toward the end of my military career, I prayed and fasted for guidance as to what God wanted me to do. The answer, by way of the Head Protestant Chaplain in my area, was to teach at a secular university. Because I was in the service during a war (Vietnam), I was entitled to a veterans' educational benefit. When I retired from the military, I used the benefit to earn another Masters Degree and a PhD from Indiana University, Bloomington. The PhD gave me an entry into academia and eventually a position at Georgia Southern University.

I chose to study 17th Century science because the modern science I had been involved in for 20 years had its beginnings in the 1600s due to the influence of the Bible. Some of my thinking on this subject is at The Biblical Basis of Modern Science. I present more in my book, William Harvey and the use of Purpose in the Scientific Revolution (University Press of America, 1998).

God has blessed me in many ways besides the guidance I mentioned above. One of them is His protecting my son during an Iraqi ambush in the Persian Gulf War. He is a Navy medic and was assigned to a Marine special forces unit. You can read this story at Brenden McMullen and the Gulf War . It is similar to Fuchida's experiences while he was in the military and during WWII.

Another example of God's providence is when I experienced a major heart attack. The story starts with my medic son's warning after learning that my younger brother had four-bypass heart surgery: "You're next, Dad," he informed me. Since my father had already had a five-bypass heart operation, my son was basing his prediction on genetic inheritance. To no avail I protested that I worked out daily and kept my weight down. "It doesn't matter," he replied, "those things only help for postoperative recovery." He was right.

My heart attack came the day after Christmas, 1996, while I was visiting my wife's mother in California. I experienced mild chest pains during a walk. Back at the house, I had more pain and nausea too. Sharon looked up the phone number of the hospital where she had worked as a volunteer "Candy Striper" as a young woman. I called to see if they would take my new Tricare military health insurance. I didn't get through to the right person. While waiting on the phone, I noticed there was now another hospital in town. I called it. No problem with the insurance - and it turned out this was the "heart hospital," the other one took the cancer patients. Sharon dropped me off at the emergency room at the right hospital and I went in and asked for an EKG. While I was giving my billing information, the big one hit and I passed out. A nurse read no pulse and thumped my chest. I came to, gave consent, and went directly to the Cath Lab, which had been made ready for someone else. It turns out that the cardiologist there at the time, Dr. Choudhary, was the only one who took patients directly into the operating room. Balloon angioplasty did not keep open my obstructed left anterior descending artery, but a stainless steel coronary implant, manufactured by Cordis, a Johnson & Johnson Company, did the job.

During this Christmas vacation I had driven to and from Orlando from where I flew to and from San Diego. I drove on fast-moving Southern California freeways. I went on solitary walks at night, including on Catalina Island. I body-surfed alone in the Pacific. As a Christmas present, I was scheduled to fly simulated aerial combat against my son. If the timing of my heart attack had been different, I could now be dead or an invalid, and maybe have caused someone else's death. Instead I recovered quickly with apparently little or no heart damage. I was up walking the halls of the hospital the next day after my heart attack and out of there the second day. When classes started on January 6th, I taught my scheduled full load of 105 students in survey and upper division courses. At a later Christmas, I had a chance to see my latest grandson, Finn, shown at the right.

I thank God for his guidance and blessing in my life.