Just Beyond the Veil

Dec. 1, 2020 | By Luke Bell PC ‘23

What is truth? When I was sixteen, that was the question I desperately wished to answer. All my life I had been raised in a Christian home where we punctually attended Christian church, prayed Christian prayers, read Christian books and sang Christian songs. But as a homeschooler entering public school in ninth grade, I encountered worldviews dissimilar from my own. Whether at basketball practice, on the school bus, or at a summer study camp, I would frequently share my faith with others, but I found that many did not hold the same beliefs I had, and some even challenged me with questions to which I did not have answers. From my former saturation in Christian culture to a new milieu that endorsed no particular belief, I began questioning the veracity of my beliefs, fearing that my faith was just one multiple-choice selection in the smorgasbord of worldviews. 

I began to harbor questions about the authenticity of my faith. Afraid, however, of what my family would say if I confessed to them what was troubling me, I kept my questions to myself. How do I know the Bible is true? Was Jesus really the Son of God? What makes Christianity unique among other religions? How do I even know that God exists? If the Christian worldview is really true, then shouldn’t everyone be buying into this? One by one these questions began to plague me. For the first time, doubt began to erode my assurance, uncertainty began to rob me of my confidence, and skepticism began to seem more rational. Something had to change. So when I was sixteen, I resolved to discover the worldview which logically, empirically, and existentially stood the test of reason. 

During my quest for truth, I began to research why people believe Christianity to be correct, and one man in particular piqued my curiosity – Ravi Zacharias. He was known as a Christian apologist – someone who seeks to provide a defense for the truth about Jesus Christ. I was immediately hooked. 

What intrigued me most about Zacharias was not his extensive vocabulary, his erudition, nor even his refutations of the most formidable arguments manufactured to discredit Christianity. I was fascinated most by the way he spoke about Christ. His portrayal of Jesus invited me into an entirely new perspective about the most influential man in history – a depiction designed for a curious intellectual, one craving to discover truth amidst the minefield of lies in the world. To him, Jesus was not some cultural preference, but rather a genuine reality who was as real as the questions which stymied my faith. I found his answers concerning life’s origin, meaning, morality, and destiny to be the most sound explanations I had ever heard, both philosophically and historically, and one by one, he systematically dismantled my intellectual doubts with arguments that stood the test of reason. The more I listened, the more it seemed as though Zacharias provided satisfying solutions not only for my inquisitive intellect, but also for my hungry heart. 

As time progressed, I found myself retreating to isolation just to listen to this man. In the car, between classes, or in my bed at night, I was absolutely captivated by the wisdom and trenchancy of Zacharias and how he provided answers designed to resolve the most daunting of intellectual objections to Christianity. 

Zacharias’ arguments for Christ prompted me to read what Jesus said about truth. In the Bible, I found some of the most audacious claims I had ever read about truth. Rather than being crippled by my doubts, Christ promised I could experience liberation from them if I trusted him, since those who follow his teachings “will know the truth and the truth will set you free.”  Rather than vacillating in my commitment to a worldview, by believing in him, Christ promised I could verify I was indeed on the side of truth, claiming “everyone on the side of truth listens to my voice.”  Rather than groping in the dark for truth as a concept, Christ promised me I could rest in him for truth as a person, for he claimed to be “the way and the truth and the life.” From Zacharias’ arguments, I came to learn that the Christian faith held water both philosophically and historically, but with the words of Jesus, I came to realize the Christian faith also held water experientially. 

Through the power of Christ’s words and the persuasiveness of Zacharias’ arguments for Christ, I found that I was struggling to find reasons to disbelieve in Christ. I knew that more research would lead to more reasons to believe in him, so I came to realize that Christ is who he really claims to be. The truth I had been searching for seemed to naturally park itself on the platform of the Christian faith, and I realized that if truth is to be found anywhere, it is displayed in Christ. 

I emerged from this journey with a resurgent confidence in Christianity, for I was now an eyewitness to the truth of Christ. After completing this trek, I looked back and surveyed the spiritual landscape I had just surmounted. Not only could I see that all my pitfalls of uncertainty had been patched by coherent answers, but my searching had equipped me to ascend to a new spiritual elevation. More steadfast than the flimsy foundation of my previous spiritual confidence, this new plateau was grounded on greater confidence in my faith, accessible only through the arduous journey of intense investigation. 

Looking back, I recognized that it was my restless uncertainty that ushered me to assurance. It was my relentless questioning that brought me to certainty. It was my crippling doubt that enkindled this newfound confidence. The skepticism that had fueled my journey did not dismantle my faith. It fortified it. 

Now, as a sophomore at Yale, I attempt to extend to others what I have learned from my journey to truth. To risk being incorrect, to wrestle with uncertainty, to unabashedly question, inspect, and scrutinize your beliefs is, I believe, one of the most sacred callings in life. And because I believe every question, about life’s most menial details to its deepest mysteries, leads one step closer to truth, I frequently share my beliefs with others, hoping they can experience the same truth I have found and discover that sometimes, what is infinitely valuable lies just beyond the veil of uncertainty. 

Whenever I encounter someone who questions Christianity, whether from a moral, philosophical, or historical standpoint, my journey has given me not only an ability to answer others’ questions, but also a newfound compassion for those who ask the same questions I once asked. Whenever I engage in these conversations, be it in the Vermont Mountains on my first-year orientation trip, in the Berkeley dining hall, or during a midnight discussion with my roommate, my journey has taught me not to view skeptics as merely needing more faith, but to empathize with them as one who once shared the same roadblocks for my beliefs.  I now attempt to respond not only to the question, but also to the questioner, knowing that if they are like me, they do not want truth to speak merely to the intellect, but also whisper to the heart. 

What is truth? Truth is not a lifestyle, a tradition, or some anachronistic, make-believe story. Rather, I have found it is a person, one who promises to guide those who trust him into eternal life – face to face with him, face to face with truth itself. Perhaps there is a reason trust differs in just one letter from truth.

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