On human purpose.
This chapter could have been titled C. S Lewis and nothing would have been lost.
It starts by the story of a woman, Jennifer Fulwiler, who had grown up atheist and when she had her first baby, she, in her own words,
I looked down and thought: What is this baby? And I thought, well, from a pure atheist, materialist perspective he is a randomly evolved collection of chemical reactions. And I realized if that’s true then all the love that I feel for him is nothing more than chemical reactions in our brain. And I looked down at him and I thought: that’s not true. It’s not the truth.
It is possible that there are people who look at life this way. They see a beautiful painting and say what is this but random brush strokes on a fabric on and on, which would be one correct way of looking at the painting or the baby in this case. But the baby or even painting, can be looked at as a labour of love.
I said the alternate title of this chapter is C.S Lewis because Justin can’t help himself from referring to him in almost every page. Lewis’ conversion to Christianity and his works in defense of that faith such mere Christianity are quoted as evidence that without god, our lives have no purpose, no meaning no value.
Justin tells us life only has meaning if you believe in Jesus. We will get to the question of Jesus later. For our purposes, I will just say it seems there are billions in the world whose lives have no meaning because they are not Christians.