Then. The only other customers in the place are two girls a little older than me, chatting expansively as they down comfort food. In spite of myself, I tune in as they discuss politics, overpopulation, reproductive freedom. When they start in on the topic of God, I continue to listen.

The God of the Bible is monstrous, they’re saying, and his morality is absurd and suffocating. The girls take issue with contradictory biblical commandments and the slaughter of innocents. Heavy stuff.

Go talk to them.

Crap.

On a side note, one of the reasons I’m sure I serve a living God is that sometimes he asks me to do uncomfortable, unreasonable things that I could not have cooked up on my own. The command is unmistakable now, and the resumption of study impossible. I squeeze my eyes tight in a nano-prayer, rise from my booth, and stroll over with attempted nonchalance.

“Hi. I’m sorry, but I couldn’t help overhearing your conversation and it was really interesting. I happen to be a Christian and I was wondering…do you have any hardballs you want to throw at me?”

The girl who’d done most of the talking, says she doesn’t, but invites me to sit down. Our conversation meanders. I’d recently read atheist writer Christopher Hitchens’s book, God is not Great, after having the privilege of interviewing him over the phone last semester, so I’m familiar with all these counter-arguments to Christianity.

Like Hitchens, these girls are intellectually honest, admitting there is only one truth, not many, and eschewing the agnostic wishy-washyness that frustrates serious intellectual pursuit.

“I want to believe in something more. I want so much for there to be a heaven and hell, but I can’t bring my reason to accept it,” she says.

So close. I think that God loves it when people say things like that.

I contribute little for the rest of the conversation, just listening mostly, and asking an occasional question. But minutes before the two stand to leave, the hardball question I’ve been waiting for comes.

“Let me ask you this—if God is omniscient, why did he create me, knowing I’d reject him?”

My answer is not complete—if it was, I’d be wiser than the greatest theologians of all time. But I believe it with everything I am.

“God is a person—with real, unchanging characteristics and qualities. He makes Himself known to us in different ways, but I think that everyone has a chance in their lifetimes to see him as He truly is, in a way they understand. If you are truly open, I think He’ll find you.”

And that’s how we leave it. Somehow, I’m satisfied. As the two of them stand up and settle their bill, I hope that they are not.