I seem to be having more and more discussions lately with intellectuals who are proud of the fact that they feel they don’t need faith in order to survive.

I listen to them struggle with explanations as to why faith is for the weak of mind, those without an option or hope in life. And I smile. My mind sees them going up ten floors in a crowded elevator having faith that the last technician knew what he was doing. Or driving through a green light with the faith of knowing that the red light on the other side works and that the other driver sees it. Or faith in the plane carrying them to their next destination. Or faith that when they sign a contract with an unknown quantity that that person will honor their part of it. Or faith that a government, that knows every detail of their lives, won’t use it against them.

Wouldn’t it be wonderful if they believed in the God who not only knows every detail of their lives, and created them . . . but loves them dearly? If I had to chose between believing in God or an elevator . . .

I think I’ll choose the one who never breaks down.