Sufficient evidence?

The lie detector machine

Sunday 3 May 2026

Acts 6:1-7 Psalm 33(32)

1 Peter 2:4-9 John 14:1-12

There are two questions I consider this Sunday: the how of belief and the so what of belief. 

 

Lectio Divina:*

Meditatio:

‘Believe me that I am in the Father and the Father is in me; but if you do not, then believe me because of the works themselves.’   (John 14:11)

 Commentary:

How do we know that God exists—and does it matter?

Most of us want some measure of assurance – if not certainty – that what we believe is true and that how we live is right. Truth and rightness matter regardless of whether one believes in God or not. Yet religious people are especially prone to the dangerous assumption – usually unspoken – that our beliefs make us more truthful or morally superior than others. Jesus had little patience for such presumption. Arrogance, complacency, and self‑certainty are the marks of bad religion, and he was scathing about them.

Christian faith claims not only a set of beliefs but a way of life shaped by the Jesus story: a life of trust in a God of love revealed in Christ, a life that treats others as we ourselves would wish to be treated. Salvation, in this vision, is never faith alone in the narrow sense. Faith lives and breathes through freely chosen acts of compassion, mercy, and justice—God’s gracious love flowing through us into the world.

At this point it matters greatly what we mean by belief. Martin Buber helps us here. Faith, in the biblical sense, is not primarily belief in something—as one believes in a theory or proposition – but belief with or towards someone. It is an I–Thou relationship before it is an I–It conviction. God is not an object to be proven but a Presence to be encountered. Faith is not merely assenting to a list of statements but entering a living relationship marked by trust, responsiveness, and dialogue. When belief slips into mere ideas ‘about God’, it withers; when it remains relational, it becomes transformative.

A profound challenge to faith is the existence of immense and apparently senseless suffering. Easy answers do not suffice. There is no fully coherent explanation as to why a God‑who‑is‑love permits unspeakable cruelty. Rather than explaining suffering away, the Gospel calls us to confront it – to resist, relieve, and reduce all unnecessary, human‑made suffering wherever we can.

Jesus does more than teach a way of life; he is the Way. The Way, the Truth, and the Life belong together. Truth without life becomes sterile; life without love collapses into self‑interest. The life Jesus gives persists even when obscured—like blue Irish sky hidden behind Atlantic clouds.

When Jesus says, “believe because of the works themselves,” he offers a gracious Plan B. For those who struggle with creeds or formulations, he points to the lived reality of love, healing, mercy, justice, and joy. Yet this raises an uncomfortable question: what if our communities do not radiate such life? Tertullian famously wrote that pagans marvelled, ‘See how they love one another’. If only.

Doctrine still matters. Scripture, creeds, sacraments, and ministry are not optional extras. But intellectual assent, alone, will never open the door to the fullness of life Christ offers. We need all three: a way to walk, truths to guide, and lives marked by integrity and love.

Doubt is no enemy of faith; it is a companion to honesty. To doubt and yet continue to trust, love, and act compassionately is profoundly human. Often, belief grows by living as if it were true. Trust becomes easier when we attend to the works of God already visible around and within us.

The Letter to the Hebrews offers a simple definition best captured, I think, in the King James Version of the Bible:

Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen. (Hebrews 11:1 – KJV)

What we hope for is life, peace, freedom, and communion—now and beyond. The evidence is written in conscience, encounter, beauty, suffering, and love. It is before us and within us, if we dare to open our hearts.

So what level of evidence is enough? Pascal answers best:

“The heart has its reasons, of which reason knows nothing.”