I leave the butcher’s department. As I passed, a young man muttered: ” God does not exist. “ His back is turned but I understand that this is a message for me, he must have recognized my religious habit. Usually, I willingly enter into conversation, responding to questions. Most of the time, they are kind and often very touching. But this time, I did not report because I clearly perceived that he did not want to enter into a dialogue and, above all, I realize that I am helpless. I admit that I never believed that God could not exist.
I am aware of the gift of faith, but I feel helpless in the face of atheism. I cannot stop there. I then seek what would be my own arguments to defend the existence of God. Deep in my heart, I already find two. First, I did not give my life to an idea, or even to a beautiful ideal. I gave my life to Someone, in response to a loving relationship that I experienced. A relationship that has not been spared by trials but continues to make me happy, in the depths of my existence. I understand that it can be incomprehensible because the reason alone does not reach it but, in my eyes, my happiness is a proof of the existence of God.
The other reason is the resurrection of Christ. What was transmitted to me in faith took flesh in my relationships, giving them a taste of eternity. I think back to that time when, with my mother, my brothers and my sister, we were gathered around my father’s body. Watching him asleep in death, the evidence of love that does not die was there. Over time, men and women will continue to testify in one way or another that God is not dead. He is alive, the one we thought we could make disappear.