These are tough days for optimists and humanists. For optimists, it's tough to stay positive because of all the junk going on in the world: there's trouble in the Middle East, our economy continues to teeter precariously, the Gulf oil disaster is out of control, and Al and Tipper Gore are separating after 40 years of marriage. If this can happen, is there any hope for the rest of us?

For the humanist, it's discouraging for many of the same reasons, but the frustration comes not so much from the problems in the world as it does from our inability to solve them. The worse things seem to get, the more it seems we are not in control, and that just frustrates the heck out of anyone who puts their trust in humankind.

Even our technology, which is supposed to be the savior of the world (okay, maybe only Steve Jobs thinks that, but you get the idea), has us spooked. Nevermind that we can't fix the Gulf oil leak. What about Facebook? Talk about losing control. Even though Facebook has tried to assure its nearly half a billion users that they have nothing to fear, a lot of people are concerned that the social media giant knows way too much about us. "People actually use Facebook like it's crack," said one 24-year old social-media savvy user. "So I don't see what the next step is aside from world domination."

Ever wonder how to start a conversation about God with someone who, you know, doesn't believe? It used to be known as "witnessing" or "sharing your faith." These activities seem so 20th century, so Campus Crusade-ish. Nowadays most Christians prefer to talk about God in a way that is more about water cool conversation than door-to-door proselytizing.

We're fine with that. In fact, we think it's a much better way to go. Sure worked for Jesus. When people like Nicodemus, the woman at the well, and the rich young ruler asked him questions, Jesus didn't twist any arms. He conversed, asked questions, left them wanting more.

The thing with this preferred method is to find those cultural touch points that most people can identify with or at least know about, and then develop the art of asking really good questions with the intention of engaging in conversations about the bigger spiritual issues at stake.

The love of a man for a woman (or a woman for a man) can be of the noblest sort, and to those two people it may be the greatest thing of all. But what about the love of a man for a dog, a car, or a sandwich? Are those noble loves? Of course not. Those are what C.S. Lewis describes as "Need-loves," as in "I don't have any friends, so I need a dog," or "I need to be seen in this car," or "Right now I need a sandwich."

There's nothing wrong with loving something you need. Most close relationships are based on Need-love. We need the companionship, the warmth, and the love of other people, so we reach out in love. "Our whole being by its very nature is one of vast need," Lewis writes. Even our love for God is based on our need to be connected with the Creator of the universe, who himself is love.

We will be the first to admit that we don't have some kind of special insight into the mind of God and know why he allows evil and suffering. We just believe that as a holy, loving, all-powerful, all-good, all-knowing God, he does have his reasons for allowing evil--both human and natural evil--to exist in our world and inflict the suffering it does. Here are some possible purposes God may have for allowing evil and the suffering it produces. See if you identify with one of more of these.

Suffering Can Make Us Stronger

You've no doubt heard the expression, "No pain, no gain." We're not trying to trivialize the nature of pain and suffering, but there's truth in that slogan. Something about hardship, difficulty and pain can sometimes strengthen us. Suffering and setbacks can also bring us closer as families, friend and communities. Dare we say, in the wake of the earthquake in Haite and its horrible aftermath, the global community has come together in extraordianary ways to provide relief on a massive scale. There's an incredible amount of work yet to do, but there is hope that Haiti and its people will one day be stronger.

If you believe in an immortal and immaterial being beyond our ability to measure, it's not such a stretch to believe there is such a thing as immortaity.  To put it another way, if you have good reasons to believe that an immortal God exists, then you also have good reasons to believe that immortality exists.

The arguments from God's existence (which we considered in our last column) are great if you already believe in God.  But what if you don't buy into Christian theism?  Or what if you just have doubts about an eternal life with God in heaven beyond this mortal life?  Is there any empirical evidence for such a belief?

In their book, Beyond Death, J.P. Moreland and Gary Habermas consider several pieces of evidence, moving from experiential to philosophical to empirical evidence.  In the category of experiential evidence for immortality, Moreland and Habermas cite documented cases of near death experiences (NDEs), such as the vivid description offered by Don Piper in his book, 90 Minutes in Heaven.  Honestly, we're not big fans of this category of evidence because it's based on the experience of the person having the NDE.

Immortality is in the news this week with the release of Dinesh D'Souza's newest book, Life After Death: The Evidence.  Everyone from Rick Warren to Dallas Willard is endorsing the book, which attempts to build a case on empirical grounds for life after death.  Even the atheist Christopher Hitchens, who has debated D'Souza, calls him a "formidable opponent." 

D'Souza directs his arguments to the skeptic, who generally has trouble believing that God exists.  Discounting the existence of God pretty much gets you off the hook in terms of immortality, because if God doesn't exist, then there's no such things as life after death.

But if immortality doesn't exist, then why do we think about it so much?  Why do even the most skeptical people like to think there's a heaven, especially when someone they love bites the dust?  Christians have a fairly straightforward explanation for this preoccupation, and it's found in the book of Ecclesiastes:  "I have seen the burden God has laid on men," the writer of Ecclesiastes observes.  "He has made everything beautiful in its time.  He has also set eternity in the hearts of men" (Eccl. 3:10-11).

One the saddest verses in the Bible concerns the strongest man in the Bible:  "But he didn't realize the Lord had left him" (Judges 16:20).  In our pursuit of the abundant/full/enjoyable/overflowing life Jesus promises us (John 10:10), we often run full speed along the wrong path, choosing to rely on our own strength and abiltities--like Samson did--rather than the Lord's.

You'll remember that when Samson was captured by the Philistines, he was tied up, his eyes were gouged out, and he was put to work grinding grain.  In other words, he lost his power, he lost his vision, and life for him was a grind.  Samson's condition describes how many of us feel as rely on our own power rather than the Lord's.  We stumble around, searching for the abundant life that seems to elude us.  We have no spiritual power, we have no spiritual vision, and our life is a grind.

Many Christians see nothing wrong with being the captain of their own ship, charting a course in search of meaning and purpose. Whether it takes 40 days or 40 years, we know for certain that a life of substance exists because Jesus himself promised it to us: 

"Yes, I am the gate. Those who come in through me will be saved. They will come and go freely and will find good pastures. The thief’s purpose is to steal and kill and destroy. My purpose is to give them a rich and satisfying life" (John 10:9-10, NLT).

For purposes of clarification, a "rich and satisfying life" does not imply riches (despite how proponents of the prosperity gospel might interpret this verse).  Christ did not come to earth to make us financially wealthy (sorry, Joel Osteen).  Neither did he come to make sure we were comfortable and safe.  Just ask any of the first-century Christians.  Oh, wait--you can't ask them because they're dead, having been tortured to death because of their allegiance to Christ.  They took that whole "take up your cross and follow me" directive seriously.  

It seems like a lot of people are dying these days.  In fact, the death rate is pretty constant, about 150,000 people per day worldwide.  But it does seem like an unusual number of famous people are dying, including one whose televised memorial service attracted an audience of around a billion people.  

What do you think about when you think about the death of someone you know, whether a personal acquaintance or a public person?  Probably a variety of things.  You think about death itself, which usually brings out sorrow because the person you know or admire is no longer here.  But you also think about life and all of the good things the person did.  This is where sorrow gives way to joy.

If you're like most people, you also think about life after death, also known as immortality.  Even people with no formalized belief system have this nagging suspicion that there's something beyond this life.  Others are confident that immortality is a given.  But does anyone really know?  How can you possibly prove something that is immaterial and beyond our ability to measure?  To put it another way, is it possible to find evidence for immortality?  Actually, it is. Maybe not hard evidence, but evidence nonetheless.