If you are determined to avoid becoming a Christian, there are certain questions it may be safer not to ask.

Don’t ask why anything exists at all.

Don’t ask why you instinctively believe some things are really good and others really evil.

Don’t ask why, in a universe supposedly indifferent to your existence, you cannot stop wondering whether your life has meaning.

And whatever you do, don’t investigate too carefully what happened in Jerusalem nearly two thousand years ago.

Because Christianity does not begin by asking you to become religious.

It begins with claims about reality.

And if those claims are true, eventually they become claims on you.

There is something rather than nothing.

That fact is so ordinary that we rarely stop to consider how extraordinary it is.

The universe exists. Matter exists. Time exists. Laws of nature exist. And somehow, within that universe, creatures exist who can look back at it and ask why.

You can answer that question without Christianity. You can say the universe simply exists and there is no explanation beyond itself.

But that is still an answer.

The Christian claim is different: reality ultimately exists because Someone exists.

Christianity says the universe is not an accident that somehow developed meaning. It was created by a God who already possessed purpose, intelligence, will, and love.

If that is true, then your existence is not accidental either.

And that creates another uncomfortable question.

Human beings have an unusual problem: survival is not enough for us.

We want our lives to matter.

We want love to be real. We want injustice corrected. We want our sacrifices to mean something. We want to know that the people we love do not simply disappear into nothingness.

And we are haunted by the possibility of wasting our lives.

But why?

If human beings are merely temporary arrangements of matter produced by an unguided universe, there is no obvious reason your life should possess an ultimate purpose.

You can invent a purpose. You can choose goals. You can make life meaningful to yourself.

But that is different from discovering that your life actually has meaning.

Christianity makes the much larger claim that you were created intentionally.

You are not merely alive.

You were made for Someone.

Most of us say morality is complicated.

And it is.

But almost nobody lives as though morality is completely imaginary.

We do not merely dislike cruelty. We believe some acts ought not happen.

A child being tortured for amusement is not wrong because fifty-one percent of society voted against it. Genocide would not suddenly become good if enough people approved of it.

We instinctively appeal to something higher than preference.

We say things such as:

That is unjust.

That person should not have been treated that way.

They had no right to do that.

But words such as ought, should, and right raise a question.

Where does moral obligation come from?

Christianity answers that goodness is not an arbitrary rule invented by religion. It is rooted in the character of God.

Human beings possess dignity because they bear His image.

And that explanation creates another problem.

Because once we acknowledge that there really is such a thing as right and wrong, the question eventually turns toward us.

It is easy to discuss evil when evil belongs to someone else.

The harder question is whether we ourselves are good.

Most of us compare ourselves favorably with people worse than we are.

But try another standard.

Have you always told the truth?

Have you always treated people as they deserved to be treated?

Have you never acted selfishly when you knew better?

Have you never harbored hatred, envy, lust, bitterness, or pride?

Have you perfectly lived even according to your own moral standards?

The problem Christianity calls sin becomes much less abstract at that point.

Christianity’s diagnosis is not merely that humanity needs more education, better politics, greater prosperity, or improved self-esteem.

Something is wrong inside us.

We have rebelled against the God for whom we were made.

And if that is true, self-improvement cannot solve the deepest problem.

We would need rescue.

This may be the most dangerous question of all.

Jesus is easy to admire from a distance.

He can be a moral teacher. A symbol of compassion. A religious reformer. Someone who told people to love one another.

But the Jesus found in the Gospels refuses to remain safely in those categories.

He forgives sins.

He speaks as though people’s eternal destinies depend upon their response to Him.

That is an astonishing claim.

Jesus does not merely say, “I know the way.”

He says, “I am the way.”

He does not merely teach truth.

He claims to be the truth.

And then He asks His disciples perhaps the most important question anyone can face:

Notice what He does not ask.

He does not ask whether Christianity has disappointed you.

He does not ask whether Christians have behaved badly.

They have.

He does not ask whether churches have sometimes been hypocritical.

They have.

The question is about Him.

Who is Jesus?

Christianity makes itself unusually vulnerable at this point.

It claims that something actually happened in history.

Jesus of Nazareth was crucified.

He died.

And His followers proclaimed that He rose bodily from the dead.

Paul understood exactly how much Christianity depends upon that claim.

That is remarkable.

Christianity does not ultimately ask you merely to believe that Jesus’s teachings are inspiring.

It says that a dead man walked out of a tomb.

So investigate it.

Ask why Jesus’s earliest followers became convinced they had seen Him alive.

Ask why a movement centered upon a crucified Messiah arose in the very place where He had been executed.

Ask what happened to Paul, a persecutor of Christians who became one of Christianity’s greatest missionaries.

You may ultimately reject the evidence.

But do not reject it without looking.

Because if Jesus remained dead, Christianity can be safely ignored.

If He rose, everything changes.

Suppose, just for a moment, that it is true.

Suppose there really is a God.

Suppose you were created by Him.

Suppose good and evil really matter.

Suppose your own sin has separated you from Him.

Suppose Jesus really is who He claimed to be.

Suppose He really died and rose again.

Then Christianity is no longer merely an interesting philosophy.

The question becomes personal:

The Christian message is not that you must become good enough for God.

You cannot.

That is why Christ came.

Jesus lived the life we have failed to live. He died for sinners and rose from the grave, defeating the enemy none of us can defeat for ourselves.

A gift is not earned.

It is received.

Christianity calls you to repent—to turn from ruling your own life—and to place your trust in Jesus Christ.

Not merely to believe that He existed.

Not merely to agree with certain doctrines.

To trust Him.

To follow Him.

When Jesus called Peter and Andrew, He did not ask them merely to reconsider their religious opinions.

He said:

Their response was immediate:

The nets mattered because they represented the life they already had—their work, security, plans, and control over their own future.

Following Jesus required more than believing something about Him.

It required entrusting themselves to Him.

Jesus later made the cost unmistakable:

Becoming a Christian does not mean that you must first make yourself worthy of Christ.

Salvation is a gift of grace. You cannot earn it.

But grace is not an invitation to leave Jesus at the edge of your life.

To repent is to turn.

To believe is to trust.

To follow is to surrender your claim to be your own lord.

The fishermen left their nets.

Matthew left his tax booth.

Paul abandoned the life he had built around persecuting the church.

Your “nets” may look different.

But eventually the question becomes the same:

At some point, investigation has to become a decision.

If you have come to believe that Jesus is who He claimed to be, that your sin separates you from God, and that Christ died and rose again, then the question is no longer merely what you think about Christianity.

It is whether you will trust Him.

There are no magical words that make someone a Christian. A prayer does not replace repentance or faith.

But prayer can be the honest expression of both.

If you prayed those words sincerely, the prayer itself did not save you.

Jesus did.

Your trust is in Him—not in the words you just said.

Following Jesus is not meant to be a private moment that ends when you close this page.

If you have placed your trust in Christ, begin walking with Him.

Read the Bible. A good place to start is the Gospel of John.

Pray honestly. You do not need polished words. Talk to God about your fears, questions, failures, and hopes.

Find a faithful local church that teaches the Bible and keeps Jesus Christ at the center.

Tell another Christian what you have decided.

And when you are ready, talk with a pastor about baptism and what it means to publicly identify with Christ.

You will not understand everything immediately.

You do not need to.

The disciples who left their nets did not know everything that following Jesus would involve.

They simply knew whom they were following.

If you decided to follow Jesus after reading this article—or if you still have questions and are not ready yet—we would like to hear from you.

We will not pressure you or add you to anything you did not request. We simply want to answer questions, encourage you, and help you find a faithful Bible-teaching church if you need one.

Jesus once asked:

You can spend your life building a career.

Making money.

Earning admiration.

Raising a family.

Traveling.

Collecting possessions.

Keeping yourself entertained.

Staying busy enough that you never have to think too deeply about what comes after all of it.

But eventually, every one of those things will be left behind.

So perhaps the safest way to avoid becoming a Christian is simply never to ask the questions.

Never ask why anything exists.

Never ask whether your life has an ultimate purpose.

Never ask where right and wrong come from.

Never examine yourself too closely.

Never ask who Jesus really was.

Never investigate the Resurrection.

And above all, never ask:

Christianity does not ultimately confront you with an institution, a political movement, or a system of rules.

It confronts you with a Person.

And His invitation remains the same:

If this article helped you think more seriously about Jesus, consider sharing it with someone who may be asking the same questions.

The Issachar Watch
Understanding the times through Scripture—and helping Christians live ready for Christ.