There’s a phrase that philosophers like to use. It’s called Ockham’s razor. Although originally developed by a monk in the middle ages, the phrase, Ockham’s razor is actually embraced today by skeptics as a method for rational thinking. The rule says, “We must not multiply entities beyond necessity.” Now that I’ve impressed you with my worthless, intellectual rhetoric, I’ll explain what that means in English. “Do not attribute to God, something that can be explained by ordinary means.”

For example, let’s say you know a Christian brother or sister with a cold. They ask for prayer and then a few days later, they say, “Praise God. He healed me of the cold.”

One might answer back, “Wait a minute. You were going to get over that cold anyway. We all get over colds after a few days. What you attribute to God, I attribute to antibodies.”

A few years ago, I had a Christian book table set up at The University of Washington in Seattle. A philosophy student stopped by and asked me if I had ever heard of Ockham’s Razor. I told him I had and quickly paraphrased its principle. The student seemed taken back. He may have been under the impression that Christians do not know how to study anything but the Bible and I believe he was genuinely surprised that I knew something about philosophy.

The example of prayer for the cold was brought up. “This is why I do not believe in miracles or answers to prayer,” he told me. “They can all be explained away by other means.”

“When we’re talking about a cold, I agree with you,” I said. “But let me tell you a story about something I attributed to God and you tell me if there was a better, more logical explanation.”

“OK,” he said. And then, with patience and considerable interest, he listened to my story.

Here is the story: When I was a college student, I knew everything. I’m in my fifties now and I don’t know nearly as much as I knew thirty years ago. At the very top of my arsenal of knowledge, I knew that the church I attended had major problems. For one thing, it was filled with hypocrites who did not walk with God nearly as close, as, well, me for instance. It was a large Baptist church, a beautiful building with a rotating stage, a fountain in the narthex and the best sound system in the city. People used to nickname it “Disneyland Baptist.” Only one problem: The congregation decided to build this structure before they could afford it. Loans were given out in the form of trust funds. As people got older and needed to withdraw their trust funds, the church sank into financial quicksand. As a result, the pastor’s messages began to change. (When your pastor starts to preach from Haggai or any of the other prophets associated with the rebuilding of the ancient temple, watch out). Almost every week he spoke about money and the importance of tithing or giving. People got sick of it. I got sick of it. The straw that broke the camel’s back came under the title, “Faith Pledge.” Do you know what a Faith Pledge is? It’s a guilt trip invented by some Christians to incur action from other Christians.

“We need every member of our church to donate one hundred dollars,” my pastor said one morning. Then a sneaky looking smile formed on his face. “You say you don’t have one hundred dollars? Not a problem. All we ask is that you pray to God and ask Him to give you one- hundred dollars. If He does this, if He answers your prayer and gives you one hundred dollars completely out of the blue, as extra money, not part of your regular income, then can you promise to give this money to the church? That’s all we ask.”

Who can turn down a plea like that? It’s like The Godfather, giving us an offer we can’t refuse.

I generally can’t sit still when I pray. I’m too restless. I go into my backyard, look up at the sky, pace and talk to God. That’s what I did that after noon. And while, praying I was reminded of my pastor’s request for one hundred dollars.

“Well, God, “ I said. “Those hypocrites were talking about money again.”

And then something very unusual happened. I felt like I was instantly hearing from God. No, I did not hear an audible voice. God can communicate that way if He wishes but more often then that, God places thoughts in our minds, made possible by His indwelling Holy Spirit. The reason I thought this was happening now is that my thoughts changed. And the new thoughts were much more mature than my usual thoughts. I had to consider the possibility it was God speaking and it seemed as though our conversation went something like this:

“True, Bob. They do talk about money too much in that church but it really wouldn’t hurt you to stretch your faith a little, would it?”

“Yeah, but God, I don’t have one hundred dollars.”

“That isn’t the point. The point is that if I provide one hundred dollars for you in an unexpected way, unrelated to your regular paycheck, you will give it to the church.”

I’ll be honest. I made the deal with God but it was only out of guilt. There was nothing loving, unselfish or altruistic about my attitude. I just wanted to appease my conscience and get God off my back if; indeed, these thoughts were really coming from Him.

“OK, God. If you really give me one hundred dollars, out of the blue, completely unexpected, not part of my regular paycheck, well then fine, I’ll give the money to the church. But it has to be exactly one -hundred dollars or I won’t believe the money came from you. I’m not convinced you want anything to do with those hypocrites so you need to convince me by making it exactly one-hundred dollars, no more, no less. If you give me ninety-nine dollars and ninety-nine cents, I will spend it.”

Two days later, I got a letter from my friend John. I had not seen John in six months. He did not attend my church and he knew nothing of their one hundred dollars drive. Neither did he know anything about the prayer I had made. I am quoting his brief note word for word.

Dear Bob.

God recently blessed me with a large sum of money and He laid it on my heart to give you this amount.

John

Inside was a check for exactly one hundred dollars.

So I spent it…No…. I gave it to the church lest lightening strike me from the sky.

Flash forward now in time, to my conversation with the philosophy student at the University of Washington.

“OK, “ I said to him. “Ockahm’s Razor: Don’t attribute to God what can be explained another way. The most logical explanation is the explanation we must accept. “

“ Explanation One: There is not God. When I was in the back yard, I thought I was talking to God but I was really talking to myself. Nobody heard me besides the neighbor’s dog and he wouldn’t have understood. And then, two days later, by an amazing coincidence, according to complete randomness and chance, the very one hundred dollars I asked for, I received.”

“Or, Explanation Two: There is a God. The reason I got one-hundred dollars is because I asked God for one hundred dollars and He heard me and He answered my prayer.”

The student’s mouth was wide open. “That’s the most incredible story I’ve ever heard!” he said. “If something like that happened to me, I’d become a Christian!”

Let us not view logic as an enemy of Christianity. Oftentimes, explaining things according to the handiwork of God, is far more logical than the alternate explanation: fluke coincidence.

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