He Doesn’t Want to Believe

“Well, I just don’t believe it!” With that, Mickey ended the conversation.

Yet, Mickey did not seem confident in his arguments. He kept offering one challenge after another. It sounded as if he was trying to convince himself as well as me. Meanwhile, the Holy Spirit was steadying me, keeping me from being trapped in a defensive posture.

Finally he asked, “But if Jesus was the Messiah, why haven’t the majority of people accepted Him?” This question was no mere strategic device in a debate. I could tell it sprang straight from the heart. “How could my people, my ancestors, whom I’ve been taught to respect, have been so wrong?” he was saying. “How could they have refused to see the truth?”

“How often,” I thought, “have people blinded themselves from acknowledging the truth because of prejudice?”

“Belief is very much a matter of the will,” I explained to Mickey. “Evidence that comes in contact with a closed mind can’t enter the door.”

“You mean they didn’t believe because they didn’t WANT to?” At least for that moment, Mickey had recognized his own responsibility in considering Christ.

More arguments followed, but I pray that this perception would be brought to mind as Mickey considers those last words he spoke as he turned and walked away.


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