In my single days, I “sort of”
dated a number of odd characters. I say “sort of” because I only remember being
actually asked out two or maybe three times. In all other cases, the young man
in question and I found ourselves in deep philosophical discussions or other
compromising situations without our having formalized the event with an
invitation. Case in point: a gentleman who stood out on our otherwise
homogenous, Christian college campus.
“Clark” was a bit older than the
majority of students, and tall enough to impress. He furthered his gravitas by
wearing tweed suits, dress shirts, and ties to class. In addition, anyone in his
wake was treated to a sweet, earthy smell that my friends convinced me was marijuana.
(I still don’t know if they were pulling my leg, but I remember the smell
distinctly and have suspected many a soul since, guilty or otherwise, of
smoking weed.)
Our liaisons typically began
after our shared Theatre Lit class in which discussions could devolve into
taunts. After a heated debate over Shaw’s “Man and Super Man,” I told him his
conclusions smelled of sulfur. He responded by bringing a book of matches to our
next class, striking them and blowing the smoke my way. Thus began our theological
debates.
I learned that he believed in a creator because he had “proven it mathematically.” I had never considered
mathematics as a basis for belief, but have since come to understand that such
proofs are possible, especially given scientists’ current ability to date the
beginning of the universe.
“Clark” claimed he did not believe
in a personal God because a “good, omnipotent God” would not allow suffering. To
prove his point, he showed me a picture of his bed-ridden grandmother, wasting
away in discomfort, and virtually unaware of her surroundings. “What do you
have to say to her?” he asked.
I did not come up with a definitive
answer to the problem of pain, but after considerable thought I had two
responses:
1.
If I ever find myself in such a situation, I
pray that God will give me grace to remain faithful and thankful.
2.
If she is a believer, I would tell her, “It won’t
be long now. Your suffering will end, and heaven is worth it all.”
I do not know if our discussions
ever led him to belief. Things came to an abrupt halt when he issued a matter-of-fact
proposal that went something like this, “I am a genius, and you are a genius.
We should get married and have perfect children.”
A couple of years later, my
discussions with “Clark” did bear fruit when I found myself in debate with another
weirdo, the militant atheist who is now a Christian and my husband.
