Wrestling with My Faith

In a skeptical age believing can be hard.

The Fall Semester of my Junior year in college was winding down. Completing one major assignment stood between me and a much-needed Christmas break. I was writing a long research paper about Immanuel Kant’s theory of beauty in his Critique of Judgment. It was complicated stuff and painfully slow going.

Midnight came and went on the term’s final Saturday. With one more edit I would be able to call it quits. But my brain rebelled at the very thought of putting another stinking word on paper. That would have to wait until morning. Well, until daylight at least.

Photo by NEOM on Unsplash

I had been working in the living room. My apartment mates had long since called it a night. So, I flipped on our ancient black and white TV, lowered the volume to a whisper, and turned out the lights. Ted Turner’s pre-cable Superstation was running an “It’s a Wonderful Life” marathon.

I watched the character George Bailey fall into despair, attempt suicide, and then learn from a kindly, bumbling angel that …