Evidence and choice

"Then the other disciple, who had reached the tomb first, also went in, and he saw and believed" (John 20:6-9).

If you skimmed that verse quickly you missed the great philosophical debate of the next two thousand years of Western civilization: what constitutes "evidence"?

Let's have an instant replay of the scene: It's dawn and two men are racing. John outruns Peter (perhaps he is younger) and reaches the crypt first; he does not enter. Peter arrives second and, being Peter, barges in. He takes in the following brute data at a glance: linen cloths lying; Jesus' head-covering apart from the linens, folded up. No body. (A reporter would have scribbled notes, perhaps looked for signs of struggle, foul play, forced entry.)

John crossed the threshold second. We are told he "also went in, and saw and believed."

You might think, "Wait! Wait! John is skipping too many steps! What about this possibility, and that possibility?" And you proffer a dozen theories to explain the missing corpse, and each generation after you generates a dozen more.

When I was on the threshold of becoming a Christian, in the early 70s, pestering Christians with objection after objection, a patient man named John finally said calmly: "You know, Andrée, there comes a point where you have to stop accumulating evidence and decide."

Of making many books there is no end. In the final analysis, there is this: the linen cloth neatly folded, the empty tomb, and your choice.