How to Gather Evidence of God
As the scientific revolution (1500s and 1600s) rolled into the industrial revolution (1700s and 1800s), then into the information age (1900s and 2000s), crazy breakthroughs in science and technology turned our collective gaze toward the natural world and away from the supernatural realm.
Men like Isaac Newton, Charles Darwin, Albert Einstein, Enrico Fermi, Francis Crick, and James Watson pioneered breathtaking theories that enabled us to understand and explain the mechanics of our physical world—and the larger cosmos. These revelations, along with some cascading social currents, resulted in a new cultural mindset—one in which God and heaven and worship and prayer gradually began to seem somehow less immediate, less relevant, less essential.
The idea that there might be something beyond the observable, something more basic than space and time and matter, began to strike many people as improbable. The idea that there might exist a spiritual reality beyond, above, beneath, and intermingled with our physical world became sort of quaint.
LOOKING FOR BETTER EVIDENCE
Bertrand Russell was a prime proponent of this movement away from the spiritual. Russell was a philosopher, mathematician, and member of the British House of Lords. He wrote more than seventy books and won a Nobel Prize in Literature. His attacks on faith were frequent and vehement, written with style and wit.
Though occurring in 1974, this exchange between Russell and an interviewer captures the spirit of our current age:
“Let us suppose, sir, that after you have left this sorry vale, you actually found yourself in heaven, standing before the Throne. There, in all his glory, sat the Lord—not Lord Russell, sir: God.”
Russell winced.
“What would you think?”
“I would think I was dreaming.”
“But suppose you realized you were not? Suppose that there, before your very eyes, beyond a shadow of a doubt, was God. What would you say?”
The pixie wrinkled his nose.
“I probably would ask, ‘Sir, why did you not give me better evidence?’”[1]
IMPROPER INSTRUMENTS AND WRONG METHODS
We should all want proof of God. We should all desire and strive to encounter and experience him—and examine evidence of him. But we’re wrong to demand he produces a certain kind of evidence. And that’s what Russell was doing. The question he really wanted to ask was, “Why did you not give me better physical evidence?”
Russell wanted to subject God to the scientific method, to put God under a microscope. He wanted to figure him out with a ruler or a scale or a mass spectrometer. While the scientific method is superb for making discoveries and acquiring knowledge, its usefulness is limited to the natural world. It works in the here and now. It works when phenomena are physically observable, predictable, and repeatable.
Jesus taught us, however, that God is spirit. He’s what theologians call transcendent. He’s not limited to a physical body or by the natural world. He inhabits eternity, existing outside the here and now. He exists beyond worldly weights and measures, apart from data, above human understanding. We will never, therefore, be able to gauge or get our hands around him with any finite tool or device—or with our finite minds.
“When he does choose to reveal himself to us, he doesn’t do so in ways that we can examine in a laboratory.”
Now, God does exist in the here and now too. He is also what theologians call immanent. He is “over all and through all and in all”—including the natural world. But he’s so fundamental and so powerful that he alone controls when and how he reveals himself to us here in the physical realm.
And when he does choose to reveal himself to us, he doesn’t do so in ways that we can examine in a laboratory or evaluate with some instrument. He doesn’t do so in predictable or repeatable ways.
So if we try to use information-age methods to discover God—to encounter him, to experience him—and come away confused and frustrated and doubting, we haven’t proved that God doesn’t exist. We haven’t proved that he isn’t near or interested in us. We haven’t proved that his irrelevant to our lives or that the spiritual realm isn’t real or anything like that.
All we’ve proved is that we have, once again, tried to use improper instruments and employ wrong methods of discovering him—like if we tried to use a ruler to measure love or a scale to weigh joy.
THE PROPER INSTRUMENT
If we want to encounter and experience God, if we want to accumulate and examine evidence of him, what we need is an instrument that’s sensitive to both the natural and the supernatural, and a method that can take into account the whole of reality—not just part of it.
Fortunately for us, God has forged just such an instrument. And he’s taught us just such a method.
The instrument is among his most stunning. And each of us has one: the human heart.
We know of God with our minds. We know him with our hearts.
Our brains are designed for knowing facts, for understanding how things work, for grappling with questions of math or science or physics or philosophy or history. But our hearts are made for feeling—for experiencing beauty and joy and sorrow, for delighting in mystery and wonder. Our hearts are also made for knowing people. And they are made for loving.
Our hearts work as well in the spiritual realm as they do in the physical world. They are the instruments God designed for us and gave to us so we could encounter him. It is through them that we sense his presence. It’s through the instrument of our hearts that we communicate with him. And it is through them that we can know and love him.
God made relationship with him possible by putting the Spirit of his Son into our hearts. The Holy Spirit, the very Spirit of Jesus, is who makes possible the connection between each one of us and our Father God—the transcendent God of heaven. The Holy Spirit is our transmission link; he makes communication feasible.
God put some of heaven inside you, so you can experience some of heaven now.
THE RIGHT METHOD
Not only do we have the right instruments to encounter the God of heaven, but we also know the right method. We, his followers, have been using this particular method to discover, encounter, and experience him since the time of Abraham. That’s because it’s the method that makes our heart instruments especially sensitive to his presence and voice.
The right method? Well, it’s to hit the road. To go on an adventure. To head off into the wilderness alone. To embark on a quest. The right method to encounter the God of heaven is to engage in the ancient spiritual practice of journeying.
Four thousand years ago, God called Abraham into the unknown: “Go from your country and your kindred and your father’s house to the land that I will show you.” And Abraham did. He walked out into a vast desert.
Jacob met God in the wilderness, wrestling with him by the side of a river. Moses met God in the wilderness, several times climbing a mountain alone to encounter him. David met God in the wilderness. Elijah met God in the wilderness.
“The right method to encounter the God of heaven is to engage in the ancient spiritual practice of journeying.”
Jesus and his followers did too. Jesus went into the wilderness often when he needed uninterrupted person-to-person contact with his Father. “The Gospels smell of the road,” wrote adventurer and academic Charles Foster. And many other followers of Jesus have, for nearly two thousand years, followed in the footsteps of these biblical examples.
With vim and zeal in their hearts, they left what was familiar and comfortable to go on holy adventures, epic quests, sacred pilgrimages. They hiked into the Egyptian desert. They trekked to Rome and Jerusalem. They walked the Camino de Santiago to northern Spain.
Their journeys lasted weeks, sometimes months, often years. For almost two millennia, there’s been a mighty march, a massive movement of human beings—hearts yearning to encounter the God of heaven.
WHAT IF WE CAN’T GO?
But what if, because of the nature and pace of our modern lives, and given important and legitimate obligations like jobs, marriages, children, quarantine orders, and travel restrictions, we can’t pick up and go? Does that mean we don’t get to encounter God?
Absolutely not.
It’s true that sacred journeys are often literal and physical—and hopefully, they can be again, soon. But it’s also true that more often these spiritual adventures are figurative. Indeed, many “pilgrimages” are accomplished entirely through practices engaged in, at, or near our homes.
For example, we can enter into a period of authentic community with other Christians over Zoom. Or into a stint with a spiritual director or psychologist. Or into a season of simplicity. We can enter into a time of returning to a favorite childhood activity. Or of trying something of which we’ve always been afraid. Or into a season of creating something or leading something. Or one of consistent prayer or deep Bible study or regular meditation on Scripture. Or any number of other wonderful things.
Because God is everywhere, more important than where we go is our posture when we go. The most important thing is that we be ready and open; that we’re prepared to listen to and trust and follow God’s invitations and directions—whatever they are, whenever they come.
Trust in the LORD with all your heart,
and do not lean on your own understanding.In all your ways acknowledge him,
and he will make straight your paths. (Prov. 3:5–6)
IF WE ARE WILLING
If we are willing to cross the thresholds of our comfortable, predictable lives and go, even for a time, wherever he calls—into uncertainty, into mystery, into wonder—then he will surely lead us into deeper encounters with himself.
He will lead us into a richer experience of his love and a world of infinite possibilities.
[1] Leo Rosten, “Bertrand Russell and God: A Memoir,” Saturday Review, February 23, 1974, 26.
Justin Camp is a writer with a heart for adventure. He is the author of Odyssey: Encounter the God of Heaven and Escape the Surly Bonds of This World. He created the WiRE devotional for men and is a co-founder of Gather Ministries, a nonprofit he runs with his wife, Jennifer. Before this, he was a venture capitalist in Silicon Valley and a lawyer on Wall Street.