God's Not Dead 2 (18 page)

THE STEPS OF THE COURTHOUSE
are littered with protesters like a backyard covered with yellow and red and brown leaves on a late-fall morning. Amy can tell the ages all vary, from students to retired folks. Some carry signs. As she passes by them, searching for Marlene and Brooke, she sees statements like
We Love You, Grace
and
Standing with God
. Across from them on the other side of the steps, like two teams on a soccer field, are men and women carrying signs that say
God Is a Lie
,
Hands Off Our Children’s Minds
and
School, Not Sunday School
.

A trim and perky TV reporter stands in the middle of the crowd on the steps, speaking into a camera.

“This morning, Grace Wesley’s counsel is expected to begin defense of her controversial classroom comments. . . .”

Amy spots Marlene near the front of the group. Brooke is right next to her.

“Good morning, Brooke,” Amy says, giving her a hug. She does the same to her niece.

“We’ve been here for over an hour,” Marlene says in a voice that sounds like it’s had its morning coffee.

“Hello, Ms. Ryan,” Brooke says.

“Did you come with your parents?” Amy asks.

“Not exactly. We’re not really on speaking terms right now.”

Amy looks at her, surprised. “Why is that?”

“Because I want them to drop this stupid lawsuit and they won’t, and they want me to stop protesting it, and
I
won’t.”

“I see,” Amy says. “Sounds complicated.”

“Yeah.”

Amy scans the doors to the courthouse. “Do you know if they’re here?”

“Yes,” Brooke says. “They just arrived.”

Marlene leans in to Amy and whispers, “Awkward.”

For a few moments they make small talk, all while Amy studies the crowd of people. Everyone here is taking the time to make a stand for what they believe in.

And what are you doing here, Amy? Which side are you taking a stand for?

Amy looks at the girl who asked the question and started this set of falling dominoes. Brooke’s cute face is weighted down with worry.

“You know this isn’t your fault,” Amy says.

She nods but doesn’t look up. Amy guesses the girl is trying to hold back tears. Sometimes something just has to be said. Brooke probably hasn’t heard a lot of positive support in the last few days.

“I’m going to go on in. I’ll come back out and let you guys know what’s going on a little while later.”

What she really wants to do is find Brooke’s parents and ask them what they’re thinking and why they’re doing this.

It takes her five minutes to spot the couple. They’re at the top of the stairs leading to the courtroom, standing near the wall discussing something.

“Excuse me, but I’d like to ask you some questions regarding this case.”

Richard Thawley approaches her, stretching out his arm and holding up a hand. “We already told the rest of them outside no comment,” Richard says. “What are you doing in here?”

“I’m not a reporter.”

Which, technically, is true. At least not
that
kind of reporter.

“Then what do you want?”

“I’m a blogger.” She pauses for a moment. “I wrote a blog called
The New Left
.”

“I’ve read that before,” Katherine says, moving around her husband. “You’re the one who likes to make fun of Christian things, right? Are you going to show how ridiculous this court case happens to be?”

Amy smiles and nods. She’s still not lying.

I used to be the one who made fun of Christian things. And I am hopefully going to show how ridiculous this case is, but I’m going to show it for the defense.

“The last thing I told Kane was that we didn’t need a bunch of religious fanatics protesting outside our house,” Katherine says, the muscles in her neck as taut as the dark power suit she wears. “He said it would stay out of the media.”

“I think he was wrong,” Amy says. “Very wrong.”

People start shuffling up the stairs.

“Could you let me know why you decided to move ahead on this case? Without your daughter’s consent?”

Richard answers quickly. “We don’t need Brooke’s consent. Kane stressed that she’s a minor and we’re her guardians. As far as the court’s concerned, she doesn’t have rights. She won’t be going up on that stand to be asked questions.”

“But why? I still don’t understand.”

“After we win, every college application can tell the story of how Brooke was part of a landmark constitutional case concerning separation of church and state. There’s not an Ivy League admissions board that will be able to resist.”

Amy is about to ask Richard another question, but he and his wife excuse themselves and walk into the courtroom.

They think this is going to benefit Brooke’s college career and future.

There’s something admirable in this. The two of them are together, walking hand in hand into the courtroom. They care about their daughter’s well-being.

That’s more than Amy can say about her mother.

More people are arriving and heading into the courtroom. Couples and businesspeople and families, and all Amy has with her is a notebook and a mind full of questions and doubts.

There’s strength in numbers, which is why it seems Amy always feels weak when she’s by herself.

I FEEL A BIT LIKE
I did before I took my bar exam. Actually that’s not true. It’s more like that sinking feeling I had before getting up in front of everyone in the church and delivering the eulogy for my mother.

Peter Kane is sitting at the other table, decked out in a three-piece suit. I bet the tie costs more than my entire wardrobe. Grace looks a thousand times more serene than I am.

Stand and breathe and put up a good calm front.

I do exactly that.

“Your Honor, may I come forward?” I call out.

“Counsel may approach the bench.”

Judge Stennis appears a bit friendlier this morning. Well,
friendly
isn’t quite the term. He seems less offended by the sound
of my voice. I walk toward the figure towering over me like I’m Frodo staring up at Mount Doom. Next to me stands Gollum. A very well-dressed Gollum with that creepy smile of his.

“I would like to add two witnesses, Your Honor.”

“Really?” Kane asks before the judge can make any kind of response.

“Lee Strobel and James Warner Wallace.”

Words I would bet a thousand dollars I don’t have are about to come.
One . . . two . . . three . . .

“Objection, Your Honor. These witnesses weren’t on the discovery list.”

“Your Honor,” I begin in my most nonchalant Bob Marley “One Love” sort of tone, “these are both effectively rebuttal witnesses who, I might add, have traveled great distances at considerable expense to be here.”

And thank you very much, Roger, for momentarily picking those costs up.

“And what will they be testifying to?” Judge Stennis asks.

This morning I’d have wagered I had a 75 percent shot at the witnesses being admitted. Maybe 65 percent. I don’t know. Looking at the judge’s face now, I’m guessing I have about a 40 percent chance.

“Evidence concerning the existence of the historical figure Jesus the Christ.”

It’s not accidental that I added the
the
. There’s something about that title that makes it sound more official. It reminds me of Alexander the Great, another historical figure.

Kane has a smile that resembles the Joker’s. “You’re looking to prove Jesus Christ actually existed? This is ridiculous.”

“Yes.” I’m not any kind of good Christian, but even I don’t find it hard to believe in the historical Jesus.

“Is this some sort of game?” Judge Stennis asks.

“No, Your Honor. In his opening statement, plaintiff’s counsel referred to the ‘alleged’ existence of a certain Jesus. If you check the record, I believe you’ll find him charging my client with ‘reciting words
alleged
to be attributable to this religious figure, who
allegedly
existed some two thousand years ago.’ My witnesses are here to dispute the ‘alleged’ nature of these facts.”

“I don’t believe I have to check the record to know what’s in it,” the judge says. “Mr. Kane, do you dispute the accuracy of Mr. Endler’s claim?”

“No, Your Honor, but
 
—”

“The objection is overruled. You made a material assertion, meaning the defendant has the opportunity to refute it.”

The great thing about judges, especially when they’re doing their job, is that they don’t play favorites and they can always pull the rug out on either of the sides being represented. I glance over at Kane and relish the glare on his face and the silence on his lips.

How about you object to that?

“The defense calls Lee Strobel,” I say a bit more loudly than necessary.

I can see the disdain on Kane’s face as we walk back to our tables. It’s directed at Grace.

The first of my two surprise witnesses walks past us and stands beside the bailiff. The sixty-something-year-old has a friendly face and an easygoing way about him. He looks trustworthy and simply
nice
. Always a good thing for a witness.

“Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?” the bailiff asks.

“So help me God. I do.”

Nice touch with the added “so help me God.”

If anybody is going to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, it’s going to be an author specializing in apologetics.

I walk up to Lee and give him a smile of greeting. “Can you state your name and occupation for the court?”

“My name is Lee Strobel. I’m a professor of Christian Thought at Houston Baptist University and the author of more than twenty books about Christianity, including The Case for Christ.”

I haven’t studied the jury too much this morning, but as the professor shares his title, I glance over and notice one of them looking a bit . . . pale.

The pastor.

Uh-oh.

“Can you help me prove the existence of Jesus Christ?” I ask.

“Absolutely,” Lee says with full confidence. “Beyond any reasonable doubt.”

“How so?”

“Actually, this court already affirmed it when we were called into session and the date was given. Our calendar has been split between BC and AD based on the birth of Jesus. Which is quite a feat if he never existed.”

Lee isn’t acting superior in his wisdom or smug in his confidence. He’s talking more like a reporter sharing news from the field with an anchorperson.

“Beyond that, historian Gary Habermas lists thirty-nine ancient sources for Jesus, from which he enumerates more than one hundred reported facts about his life, teachings, crucifixion and resurrection. In fact, the historical evidence for Jesus’ execution is so strong that one of the most famous New Testament scholars in the world
 
—Gerd Lüdemann of Germany
 
—said Jesus’ death as a consequence of
crucifixion is indisputable. Now, there are very few facts in ancient history that a critical historian like Gerd Lüdemann will say are indisputable. One of them is the execution of Jesus Christ.”

I remain silent for a moment and let this all sink in since I know it might be a lot for the jurors to process. Lee would be a great teacher to take a course from. He has a no-nonsense, believable manner about him. In another life he might have been a sports commentator.

“Forgive me, but you’re a believer, right?” I ask. “A Bible-believing Christian?”

Lee nods at me with a comfortable grin coming over his face. He puts up his hands as if surrendering.

“Guilty as charged.”

“So . . . wouldn’t this tend to
inflate
your estimation of the probability of Jesus’ existence?”

“No,” he says.

“Really? Why not?”

“Because we don’t need to inflate it. We can reconstruct the basic facts about Jesus just from non-Christian sources outside the Bible. And Gerd Lüdemann is an atheist. In other words, we can prove the existence of Jesus solely by using sources that have absolutely no sympathy toward Christianity. As the agnostic historian Bart Ehrman says, Jesus
did
exist, whether we like it or not. I put it this way: denying the existence of Jesus doesn’t make him go away
 
—it merely proves no amount of evidence will convince you.”

“Thank you,” I say. “No further questions, Your Honor.”

“Mr. Kane?” Judge Stennis says.

It’s like waking up the bored jock in the back row of class. Kane looks like he’s been thinking of his stock portfolio the last hour.

“No questions,” he says.

I get the feeling that even Stennis is bored. It’s close enough to
noon for him to make the decision. “We’ll adjourn for lunch and have a recess until 2 p.m.”

The sound of the gavel striking is probably what Kane’s been feeling in his head this morning.

As I watch the jurors leave, I notice Reverend Dave again. He looks sick. Like maybe flu sick or something. Hopefully it’s just some sort of minor bug. I can’t afford to lose him. No way.

“Thank you,” I eventually tell Lee as we exit the room with Grace. “Excellent job up there.”

“This is what I do, Tom.”

I nod. Grace thanks him too.

“Maybe you’ll make him believe,” she says.

Lee looks at Grace. “You mean the judge?”

“No. I mean him.” Grace nods her head in my direction.

“Hey, now, keep that down,” I say with a smile. “I never said I questioned whether or not Jesus
existed
. It’s the other stuff.”

“The other stuff is pretty important,” Lee says.

“So I hear.”

They begin to walk toward the stairs that seem to spill out below us.

“I’d pay attention to the things you hear. God might be speaking to you.”

“Maybe,” I tell the professor.

I peek at Grace and see she’s trying to hide a smile. She’s just not trying hard enough. Part of me wants to say that if God is indeed speaking to me, then I’ll make him a deal. Let me win this case, and I’ll listen to whatever he has to say.

The thing is
 
—I don’t want to make that deal.

It’s terrifying to think of the things God would say if indeed he happened to have a nice chat with me.