The door of the allergy clinic slammed behind me while my eyes adjusted from the unseasonably warm February sun to the sanitized fluorescent glow of the waiting room. After checking in I settled into a chair to wait my turn. After years of this routine, this room has become a place of rest for me. I let out a long, slow breath and took a moment to notice the sounds of the quiet activity of a dozen or so strangers—soft conversations, the loud phone talker, the weather forecast coming from the wall-mounted TV, and the clock on the wall that was ticking just a little louder than seemed necessary.
“That’s an…interesting shirt,” a woman sitting a couple of chairs away said, nodding toward me. I turned and noticed her friendly expression as she lowered her crochet project. Her eyes and the constant bouncing of her leg betrayed her anxiety. That’s pretty common in a place where they give people shots all day.
I returned her friendly gaze before glancing down at my shirt. Hmmm…David Crowder. “Grave robber” is scrawled in spray paint on the back over the words “Saved By Grace.” Yeah, it might be a bit bold. When I first bought the shirt, I thought it might offend some of the more stuffy types of church-folk. But with divisiveness thick in the air, I had no idea what sparked her comment.
“Interesting?” I repeated, raising an eyebrow with a friendly smile.
She gave a small chuckle. “Well, I just mean… I don’t see as many of those anymore…you know…Jesus shirts and stuff. At least not in places like this.”
I tilted my head. “Not in waiting rooms?”
She rolled her eyes and smirked. I’m pretty sure she was appreciative of my dad-humor. “Not in places where people try to avoid conversations about religion.”
I laughed. “Fair point. But you brought it up.” I started to lean back, assuming she’d want to get out of a conversation that her nervousness had gotten her into.
She grinned, then shrugged. “Yeah, I guess I did.” She hesitated for a moment. She absently set down her yarn, tucked her fluorescent hair behind her ear, then added, “I don’t mean to be rude or anything, but… I’ve always had a hard time with Christianity. The whole thing just seems so—” she paused, looking for the right word and clearly trying not to offend.
“Hypocritical?” I offered. I knew the word well. My mind flashed over the countless times I had been let down and even hurt by people claiming to represent God.
She blinked, shocked I used that word. “Yeah. That’s part of it.”
I nodded, leaning back slightly. “I get it. I’ve met plenty of Christians who make me cringe, too. In fact, that’s what kept me away from religion for 30 years. I’d love to hear more about why you feel that way, though. What’s your experience been?”
She studied me for a second, as if trying to decide whether I was genuinely curious or just gearing up for a debate. Finally, she sighed and took a chance. “I guess it’s just that I see so many people use Christianity to justify being judgmental or hateful. Or to control people. They talk about love, but then turn around and condemn anyone who’s different. And honestly, some of the biggest fights and divisions I’ve ever seen have been between Christians themselves.”
I nodded again, letting her words settle. “Yeah… that breaks my heart too.”
She looked a little surprised at my agreement. “Really?”
“Of course. Jesus said people would know His followers by their love. When we fail at that, we’re straying from how He told us to live. But I’m curious—when you say people shouldn’t be judgmental or hateful, what are you basing that on?”
She frowned slightly. “What do you mean?”
I met her gaze with compassion. She was around the same age as my oldest kid. And I’ve been right where she is, too. I decided to take a chance myself and push the conversation deeper. “I mean, you care about kindness and fairness. So do I. But why do you think those things matter? Why should people be good to each other?”
She shrugged. “Because it’s the right thing to do. I mean, it’s just basic human decency, isn’t it?”
I smiled reassuringly. “Sure. But let’s go a little deeper. Some people claim humans are just highly evolved animals. Life is just about survival. So why should we value kindness over cruelty? Why not just do whatever helps us get ahead?”
She let out a short laugh. “Wow, that’s kind of a dark view of things.”
I chuckled. “Yeah, I don’t believe that. But if there’s no deeper reason for morality—no standard beyond human opinion—then right and wrong are just things we make up. And if that’s the case, then calling something ‘hateful’ or ‘wrong’ is really just saying you don’t like it.“
She was quiet for a moment, chewing on that thought. Did I go too far? I let my words hang in the air for a moment. I was already so far down the path, I decided to take one more step.
“But I think you and I both believe something more than that,” I continued gently. “We believe some things are really wrong—no matter what a society says. Things like racism, abuse, or oppression. Justice isn’t just a personal preference. It’s something real.“
She nodded slowly. “Yeah… I’d agree with that.” I couldn’t read her…was she following my thought or had I pushed too far? Her hands absentmindedly examined her crochet need and yarn.
“If it’s real,” I said gently, “then it has to come from somewhere. It can’t just be a human invention, or else it’s subjective…changeable. But if morality is objective—if things are truly right or wrong beyond personal opinion—then there’s a moral law in the universe. And laws don’t just exist by themselves. They have to be given by someone with authority. I call that our ‘source of should’ because it’s where the morality buck ultimately stops.”
She folded her arms, watching me. “So… you’re saying that someone is God? Can’t it be like the laws of science? They’re just kind of there.”
“Well, let’s think about it this way,” I said. “If you and I have a disagreement about something, we could appeal to the police or to a court. In society there’s a higher authority than you or I…there are the people we’ve entrusted to make and enforce laws. That can only go so high in any society, though. But should our highest human be above the law? If anyone were, it would be unjust. We wouldn’t have anyone to appeal to if that person wronged us. So where do we turn? It can’t be an impersonal force or a vague concept of right and wrong. Those are powerless. It has to be a ‘who’ that we appeal to. Someone personal, perfect, and powerful. Someone outside of humanity who isn’t just a collection of opinions, but who actually is the standard of good. And if that ‘who’ exists, then He must be just, intelligent, and unchanging.”
She exhaled, shaking her head slightly. “I’ve never thought about it that way before.” She was getting it. And she was beginning to relax.
I smiled. “Most of us haven’t. But it’s a pretty important question, isn’t it?”
The nurse called my name. I started rolling up my sleeve as I stood up and made my way to the window.
“Anyway,” I added, “it’s something to think about. Because if there is a moral lawgiver, then the next step of our journey is figuring out exactly who He is.”
She gave me a long, thoughtful look before nodding. “Yeah… maybe it is.”
As I walked toward the nurse, I let out another long, slow breath and said a quick prayer for her. My mind went back to the cracks in my own worldview that ended up leading me to God. Perhaps a door had been opened for her in this happenstance moment as well.