Why I Still Believe: A Former Atheist's Reckoning with the Bad Reputation Christians Give a Good God

In Why I Still Believe, Mary Jo Sharp describes her journey as a believer and Christian apologist, retracing experiences that will help you grow in your faith and understanding. If you’ve ever struggled with uncertainty, the ugliness of hypocrisy, or the ever-present problem of pain and suffering, this book will help you understand the messy nature of life as a Christian from the perspective of a winsome and thoughtful defender of the faith.

J. Warner Wallace, Dateline-featured cold-case detective, senior fellow at the Colson Center for Christian Worldview, adjunct professor of apologetics at Biola, author of Cold-Case Christianity, and creator of the Case Makers Academy for Kids

This book is Mary Jo at her most personal—witty, smart, genuine. She walks her readers through the story of her conversion to Christianity after having grown up in a thoroughly nonreligious West Coast culture . . . and afterward the shock of being hit by a host of second thoughts, doubts, and questions. She describes the secular claims and counterclaims she found herself having to work through after her conversion and gives insight into the personal challenges of encountering church culture for the first time as an adult, surprised by its frequent small-mindedness and anti-intellectualism. Mary Jo gives an honest, even raw, account of the doubts and questions even Christians may still have and guides them through to real answers.

Nancy Pearcey, author of Total Truth and Love Thy Body

Why I Still Believe is a masterfully written book. Mary Jo shares her journey from atheist to influential apologist, and many of the lessons she learns along the way. It’s a fun, unique, and thought-provoking book.

Sean McDowell, PhD, professor at Biola University, author or coauthor of over eighteen books, including Evidence that Demands a Verdict

Mary Jo Sharp tells her fascinating Christian story with candor and color. Hers is a pilgrimage of bold, no-nonsense exploration—one that is filled with honest questions, frank conversations, and a spirit of wonder. She reminds us that a thoughtful faith in Christ can withstand severe scrutiny as well as open our lives to new horizons and paths of delight.

Paul Copan, Pledger Family Chair of Philosophy and Ethics, Palm Beach Atlantic University, and author of A Little Book for New Philosophers

If you’ve ever been hurt or disappointed by the church, then you’ll relate to Mary Jo Sharp’s candid account. If you’re looking for inspiration to move past your pain and keep growing in your faith, then you’ll love her redemptive journey. This book is unflinchingly honest; unfailingly hopeful.

Mark Mittelberg, best-selling author of Becoming a Contagious Christian and The Questions Christians Hope No One Will Ask (With Answers)

I am grateful for Mary Jo’s friendship and her willingness to tackle tough questions and wrestle them through to a biblical solution. I also know, after having grown up in the church and having been a pastor’s wife for almost four decades, that the church is not perfect. But the church is the bride of Christ, and he is perfecting her and getting her ready for his return. Join Mary Jo as she journeys through the pain of imperfect people to the only perfect one—Jesus Christ! I too still believe!

Donna Gaines, pastor’s wife, Bellevue Baptist Church, Memphis, Tennessee, and author, Bible teacher

Mary Jo was my graduate student, so the minute her story arrived, I began consuming it. Then I saw the chapter title, Lessons from a Sociopath and an Ex-Muslim. Wow! Now who’s going to stop, especially since both fellows were also grad students? Well, I was not disappointed. Try to stop reading. A new world will open before your eyes.

Gary R. Habermas, distinguished research professor and chair, department of philosophy, Liberty University

I meet many people who are attracted to Jesus but are put off by the church and the behavior of Christians. Why I Still Believe is a powerful and honest response to that challenge. Mary Jo Sharp weaves together her powerful story of her own journey from atheism to faith with the stumbling blocks that Christians sometimes put in her way. Unafraid of facing real issues head on, but always responding with generosity, grace, and hope, Why I Still Believe is a challenge to the church to do better, a fascinating insight into a skeptic’s journey to Christ, and a great resource for friends who are drawn to Jesus but suspicious of those who bear his name.

Dr. Andy Bannister, director, Solas Centre for Public Christianity and adjunct speaker, Ravi Zacharias International Ministries

ZONDERVAN

Why I Still Believe

Copyright © 2019 by Mary Jo Sharp

Requests for information should be addressed to:

Zondervan, 3900 Sparks Dr. SE, Grand Rapids, Michigan 49546

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ISBN 978-0-310-35386-7 (softcover)

ISBN 978-0-310-35389-8 (audio)

ISBN 978-0-310-35388-1 (ebook)

Epub Edition September 2019 9780310353881

Some names and identifying details have been changed to protect the privacy of individuals.

All Scripture quotations, unless otherwise indicated, are taken from the ESV® Bible (The Holy Bible, English Standard Version®). Copyright © 2001 by Crossway, a publishing ministry of Good News Publishers. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

Scripture quotations marked NIV are taken from The Holy Bible, New International Version®, NIV®. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc.® Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved worldwide. www.Zondervan.com. The NIV and New International Version are trademarks registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office by Biblica, Inc.®

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Please note that the endnotes in this ebook may contain hyperlinks to external websites as part of bibliographic citations. These hyperlinks have not been activated by the publisher, who cannot verify the accuracy of these links beyond the date of publication

This book is dedicated to all the Treebeards,

who find no one on their side.

IN MEMORY OF

My dad, Robert Prall, 1938–2016

My friend, Nabeel Qureshi, 1983–2017

Well, here at last, dear friends, on the shores of the Sea comes the end of our fellowship in Middle-earth. Go in peace! I will not say: do not weep; for not all tears are an evil.

—Gandalf the White, The Return of the King

CONTENTS

Acknowledgments

Introduction: A Cosmic Orphan

1.  In the Beginning Was . . . Hypocrisy

2.  Wearing the Wrong Clothing

3.  God, Are You There?

4.  Resurrection

5.  Lessons from a Sociopath and an Ex-Muslim

6.  Debating Good and Evil

7.  Prince of Peace or Poser

8.  A Concerning Void

9.  The Problem of Beauty

10.  Instructions on How to Be Human

11.  No Tidy Endings

12.  Crash Landing

Further Resources

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

This story would never have seen the light of day had there not been encouragement all along the way. From the first editor, John Sloan, who sought me out to write the book, to my agent, Mark Sweeney, who continually championed my work as I learned the ropes, to Stephanie Smith and all my Zondervan editors who took me under their wings, I owe you many thanks. To those graduate students from Houston Baptist University who video-chatted and discussed this book in its early development, I am indebted. To my readers who took time out of their busy schedules to help me find a path, you are guiding lights. To the last-minute editors, Lenny Esposito and Hillary Morgan Ferrer, who skillfully slashed and trimmed as well as offered great criticism, you have made me better. To my professors and colleagues who helped with the material, you are invaluable. To my friends, who didn’t see me for months on end, you are my reprieve. And to my family who fed me, cried with me, pushed me, told me to take breaks, and prayed like there was no tomorrow . . . your crazy love truly reflects the reality of Christ’s redemption.

INTRODUCTION

A COSMIC ORPHAN

Have you ever zoomed out—I mean really zoomed out—from your life to wonder: what am I doing here? What is my life really all about?

Carl Sagan, the science popularizer from the late 1970s and 1980s, once said that the earth is but a pale, blue dot in a great, enveloping cosmic dark.¹ We are but a single pixel in a vast universe. Words such as these weaved a backdrop upon which my childhood beliefs were formed. I never thought of being created or what it meant to transcend my personal moment-by-moment existence. Everything was focused on my insignificant existence in the vast universe. What did it really matter what I said or did? To whom, other than my parents and a relatively few others, was I really accountable? These are the questions that began to rise in my later teenage years.

My family moved to Portland, Oregon, when I was two years old. My father had received the position of assistant brew master for a local start-up beer label, Henry Weinhard’s Private Reserve. Once we moved, Mom and Dad decided we would never leave the Pacific Northwest because of its great beauty: the mountainous coastline with mile after mile of rocky, sandy beaches, the snow-capped volcanic peaks of the Cascade Range, the lush fern-covered rainforests, the clear-watered lakes and rivers, and the seemingly endless number of waterfalls. It was a nature lover’s dream! They took my brother, sister, and me camping all up and down the Washington and Oregon coasts in a bright orange 1974 Volkswagen pop-top camper van, teaching us to love nature. Looking back at pictures of us, we look like the template for modern-day hipsters.

Though my parents raised me on a steady diet of nature and science shows, music and artistic events, camping and enjoyment of the outdoors and sports, I lacked any significant training in the deeper things of humanity: theology, philosophy, and psychology. I wasn’t trained in how to think well or made aware that I should think well. So I focused on the basic American teenage pursuits: sports, music, school, and relationships. But nagging thoughts intruded on that self-centeredness. Is this really all there is—I live and I die? Does my life even really matter? Who says it matters—my parents, my boyfriend? To be honest, they are just as insignificant in a vast universe as I am.

I was raised in a loving, caring home, an environment ripe for my daydreaming and wondering, but my parents also liked to discuss politics. Coming from parents who were on opposite ends of the political spectrum, I witnessed a lot of engaging discussions. These conversations opened me up to thinking on the deeper things of life. I rarely settled for an answer given to me in haste or for expediency; for example, as a child, ’Cause I’m the parent, that’s why was the equivalent of throwing down the gauntlet! My dad frequently teased me that I was born a lawyer due to my love of arguing. Yet it wasn’t really argument I loved. Rather, it was something I couldn’t express in my limited teenage experience. I now think I was in love with the transcendent. And my strongest connection to that love was through music.

Music provided me a language through which I did not need to use words to express myself. It was a glorious liberation to find another plane on which I could talk. Sitting in the middle of a band, performing a great work, released my soul into the blend of the community surrounding me. I found peace and comfort as well as drama and meaning there. However, I discovered something I never intended to find. For in the middle of a wash of musical sound, I heard the calling of the transcendent. This moment of musical beauty had to mean something. It is not for nothing that we bare our souls to create a unique experience of reflection and joy.

How fitting it was, then, that the first person to broach the subject of belief in God with me was my high school band director. In my senior year of high school, my band director gave me a graduation gift. The gift entailed two items of significance. The first item was the conducting baton he had used for my symphonic band’s performance at the state concert band competition, at which we received first place that year. The award is the musical world equivalent of being state football champions. It was his first year to achieve this high honor, and so the gift of the baton was a personal sacrifice on his part. The second item was a New International Version One-Year Bible. He handed it to me and said, When you go off to college, you’re going to have hard questions. I hope you’ll turn to this.

For the sake of the story, I wish I had some poignant reaction to share with you. However, the reality was a monotone response consisting of Oh, thanks, which is, I’m sure, not what my band director expected. I didn’t know what to say, but I didn’t want to be rude. This second gift was highly unexpected, because he had not been evangelistic with me in any discernible way.

My band director was right: I had been thinking on some difficult questions of my meaning, purpose, and value in the universe, and he gave me that Bible at a time when I needed it and was likely to read it. And as I began to read, I realized I knew nothing about Christianity. This was not the goofy portrayal of Christians found on The Simpsons or the piously romanticized view of clergy found in old movies. Those portrayals were shallow and flat-out odd. Rather, what I was reading had substance and flesh. It was weighty and explanatory. It was history-centered, instructional, corporate, and personal. It was then and now.

I went off to college determined to go to church and find out more about Jesus. From reading through the NIV One-Year Bible (I read it faster than its one-year plan), I had come to believe that there was a God. Yet I wasn’t all the way to trusting in Jesus for my salvation. Rather, I was terrified that I might be morally accountable to a Being powerful enough to create the universe. From watching years of science shows, I had some initial understanding about the kind of energy displayed by stars like our sun. I also knew of stars that greatly eclipsed the power of our sun! What if God existed as a moral being, and I was accountable to him? I felt moments of dread for my moral failings. But I didn’t come to believe in God out of fear.

I went to several churches before I attended one that told me straight up why human beings need a savior. The pastor explained the original good creation and the present fallen status of humankind. As I listened, I began to piece together the concepts of good and evil and of why I seem to do the things I don’t want to do. I began to understand that if humankind is the problem, then humankind is not the answer. Rather, the answer would transcend us. The Christian views made sense to me. The transcendence that had been calling me through musical beauty was God, the source of beauty and goodness himself. My conversion wasn’t an emotional turnaround or a weepy moment. It was clarity, vision. I had found the transcendent to which I had been called. In my sophomore year of college, when that pastor visited my apartment to ask if I was ready to make a commitment to Jesus for my salvation, I matter-of-factly stated, Yes, I’m ready for that now.

Some people talk of the euphoria they experienced in the moment of salvation; mine was not so much euphoric as it was a feeling of finality of commitment. It was the end of one long journey and the beginning of an even longer one. I was ready to take on the world, to soar, to find transcendent beauty, to step into fellowship with all these people who had found the good and true God.

If only I had known what was coming.

The chapters that follow are snapshots of my experience in the church and how those experiences shaped me and my beliefs. If you feel the ever-present tension of the beauty of salvation alongside the ugliness of human hypocrisy and evil, you’re not alone. If you are uncomfortable in the church but feel the risk of commitment calling, this book is for you. It is for those who’ve wondered if they’ve been left a cosmic orphan, and wondered again if there’s more to this unshakeable longing to belong. I can’t promise any tidy endings, but there’s still an irresistible Hope.

CHAPTER 1

IN THE BEGINNING WAS... HYPOCRISY

I’m not thinking so much of the historical failures of the church—inquisitions, crusades, burning people at the stake, and the like—as of personal experiences with hypocrisy, legalism, intolerance, and other besetting sins within the body of believers.

—DANIEL TAYLOR, THE SKEPTICAL BELIEVER

"Hey, Roger, does this dress make me look fat?"

Um, what?

I laughed. I was just having a bit of fun to calm my nerves. Seriously, is this dress okay for church?

Yes, it’s fine. You look great. You always look great. You are a fine-looking woman.

All right, stop laying it on so thick. I’m serious. I don’t know what to wear.

You’re making too much of this. Your dress is fine . . . and so are you. Roger gazed at me with his deep brown eyes, smiled, and walked back into the bathroom to finish tying his tie.

It was my first Sunday attending church as a Christian. Though my husband, Roger, grew up in church, it was an odd situation for me. I’d grown up without church and in a culture that wasn’t overtly Christian. I’d had a few experiences with church in my youth, but it was definitely a culture of which I had little understanding. The combination of discomfort and excitement caused my thoughts to churn. I couldn’t wait to get going and yet I was nervous. And as I got ready in our apartment that morning, my mind raced with uncertainties. What should I wear? How do I act? Will people accept me? What does Roger think of all this? What would my family and friends back home think of me?

Not too long ago, one of Roger’s old girlfriends had invited Roger and me to her small Baptist church. We