Conversation, Debate, and Being Prepared

I like to be prepared.  It’s the Boy Scout motto – be prepared – and it’s a value I saw lifted up by both of my parents in their careers.  My dad prides himself on being the best-prepared attorney in the courtroom, knowing the case inside and out.  My mom teaches her students that success in college and beyond hinges on good preparation.  It’s probably not surprising, then, that I felt a little out-of-place as I came to an event where I wasn’t – and couldn’t really – be prepared.

A friend of mine is connected to the Philosophy Club at CMU.  There’s no major in philosophy at the college, although they have several excellent professors focusing on that subject.  In lieu of a major, students and faculty get together monthly to discuss ideas, great writers and thinkers of the past, and also host events like an annual science-and-religion “debate.”   I say “debate” because one of my heroes, Dallas Willard, when invited to one of these “debates,” would respond by calling it a “conversation.”  I like that better.

My friend invited me to come to the science-and-religion debate/conversation last week, and I was quite humbled to do so.  I enjoy thinking on my feet, and I’ve been told I can do it fairly well.  Before the debate, I spent some time with the Philosophy Club at one of their gatherings, and later the president of the club and I went to lunch together.  He’s a sharp student and a good leader for their club, and I was grateful that he moderated our debate and set up the format for us quite skillfully.  In that sense, I “prepared” by getting to know the students and faculty who are committed to something really important to the gospel – ideas.

The debate was held at my friend Steve’s church, which is just a stone’s throw from campus.  About 20-30 people showed up, and although they’ve had much higher numbers in the past, I felt like it was wonderful that even that many people showed up.  It’s a philosophy club debate, right?  Most people’s eyes glaze over when they hear the word philosophy.  My co-panelists included two professors of philosophy and one student (our lone female panelist member and a well-spoken young woman) who serves as president of the university’s atheist club.

I feel really grateful and humbled as I think back on our conversation.  We kept our feet firmly rooted in civility, but we also got to engage each other deeply.  Being “nice” didn’t get in the way of being substantive in our discussion.  We spent about an hour discussing issues like the separation of church and state, the relationship between science and religion, freedom, conviction, and other issues related to both faith and science.  After a short break, we returned for audience questions, which was also a great experience.

Right off the bat, one of the audience members – a student from CMU – asked me, “Why do people need God?”

Let that sink in for a moment.  I felt like time slowed down after he asked me his question, and I remembered something my wife said to me before the debate: “Don’t try to be an expert in anything but what you know.  Speak to what you know about God.”  Good advice!  In response to the young man’s question, I said that the only way I knew how to answer that question was personally, not academically.  I talked about my brokenness and need for hope in Christ.  I spoke about the resurrection and the truth of the gospel – that people can’t fix themselves, nor can we truly fix our world, and that faith is a response to the goodness and mercy of God.  I think I did an OK job of answering his question.

And then a surprising thing happened.  After I finished responding to the question, one of the philosophy professors sitting next to me said to the young man, “Why do people need science?”  That led to another great dialogue.  The professor's question demonstrated our shared (unspoken) commitment to parity and engaging a variety of viewpoints which made our conversation feel weighty and yet still fun.

I’m grateful to God for the Philosophy Club and for the freedom to talk about what we believe.  The next time one of these debates rolls around, I’ll be sure to let you know.

Solo Dei gloria,

Travis