The Importance of Reading Atheists

I’ve made a habit, over many years now, of reading people who care deeply about the question of God but do not believe in Him. Some are angry, some curious, some wounded, some simply unconvinced. I sit with their arguments the way one sits with a meal of food they’ve never tasted — not to reject it, but to discover other parts of the world.

I do this because I want to hear how others make sense of life. Their perspectives don’t threaten my faith; they refine it. They force me to think, to stretch, to consider the edges of belief where certainty thins and mystery begins. They sharpen the questions I carry about life.

What remains constant in me is the reality of my own encounters with God. I can hear someone describe the universe as empty and recognize that they have not lived what I have lived. But I also know I haven’t lived what they have. I need to hear their story. I need to walk beside their questions, their disappointments, their conclusions.

My hope is that, in coming to some understanding, my faith becomes more grounded, more compassionate, and more honest. I don’t want my faith to become a fence. Reading atheists helps prevent that. It keeps me open, listening, curious. But what anchors me is not the strength of my arguments — it is the reality of encounter.

Dostoevsky understood this. Alyosha’s theophany in The Brothers Karamazov is not a proof of God; it is a moment of being met. And in my own life, I have known that — not an idea, but a presence. Not a concept, but a Person.

So when someone is deeply curious about the question of God, I recognize that what is missing is not information but encounter. My experience is not an idea or an argument. It was a moment I could not doubt because there was no reason for it other than being in the presence of someone else. And it is because of that encounter that I follow Jesus, because he makes the most sense of what it means to be in God’s presence always.

I know a man who rejected my experience, saying, “I’ve never had that.” I realize that’s true, but it doesn’t diminish that I did. And it leaves me open to recognize the experience he has had. Some people who don’t believe in God harden and get angry, become toughened, or at minimum stand at arm’s length. They reject it because they don’t want it. Some can’t imagine there is that kind of comfort or hope in the world, so why chance it? Just turn away. But some have had experiences that they don’t recognize as God being near. The man I know, I have seen his heart. He is close but doesn't see.

I am like the woman in Jesus’ life who faced death by stoning — a woman whom Jesus saw as guilty in the same way her accusers claimed, yet he challenged them to bring down judgment on her only if judgment should not fall on them as well. Her encounter was not absolution but rescue. She was lifted out of a grave that had no strength to hold her. And I find myself standing in that same light, with a resolve to enjoy the depth of living. What I realized is that there were those who dropped their stones and walked away, but who wondered and changed in the way they lived, even though they didn't start to follow.

For me, like that woman, it’s no longer an ideology or a debate. It has become a conversation about what’s next. How do I join in creating life in any way I can? How do I participate in the world with the same mercy that lifted me?

So, I read atheists to remember where I came from, to learn where hypocrisy can creep in, to grow in my understanding of life’s realities, and to prepare for the adventure that awaits. Their questions keep me honest. Their doubts keep me humble. Their stories keep me human. And all of it — the listening, the learning, the encounter — keeps me open to the God who continues to meet me.