Sermon: "Keeping Our Faith in Faith" - August 10, 2025

The Ninth Sunday after Pentecost, Genesis 15:1-6; 
Hebrews 11:1-3, 8-16

The Rev'd C. Patrick Perkins, Rector 

Transcript

Have you ever been made to feel foolish for being a person of faith? Has anyone ever called you—or those who believe like you—irrational for believing in God? If so, this sermon is for you. 

In The God Delusion, atheist biologist Richard Dawkins defines faith as “belief without evidence and reason,” which he says “coincidentally [is] also the definition of delusion.” Nothing subtle about his point! 

He continues: “Faith is the great cop-out, the great excuse to evade the need to think and evaluate evidence. Faith is belief in spite of, even perhaps because of, the lack of evidence.” 

Dawkins and others like him view faith as a blind leap—irrational, baseless, and, ultimately, delusional. They argue it’s just wishful thinking, filling gaps with comfortable explanations instead of facts. Dawkins haughtily quips, “Scientific beliefs are supported by evidence, and they get results. Myths and faiths are not and do not.” Really? 

Here’s the irony: while Dawkins dismisses faith as belief without evidence, he and his fellow scientists depend every day on assumptions that can’t be proven. 

Consider three examples: 

1. Biologists date fossils using Carbon-14. But can they prove the rate of radioactive decay has always been constant? No, they assume it. 
2. Physicists create models of the universe assuming the speed of light is constant across space and time. Has that been tested everywhere? No, it can’t be. 
3. Neuroscientists study the mind using—guess what— the mind. They assume that their senses and thought processes are reliable. But can they prove it? Not without circular reasoning! 

Now, to be clear, I’m not disparaging science. I’m no Christian fundamentalist. I simply want to be honest about its limits. Science depends on foundational assumptions: that the universe is orderly, that objective reality exists, and that human reason and perception are generally trust-worthy. Yet none of these can be proven by science without first assuming them. 

With apologies to Professor Dawkins, science itself rests on a foundation of faith. 

This isn’t a flaw—it’s just how human knowing works. All knowledge rests on presuppositions. And that brings us to an important point: The Christian faith works exactly the same way. 

Like science, the Christian faith rests on assumptions that can’t be proven conclusively, but they are reasonable and practically necessary. Faith isn’t blind as Dawkins suggests—it’s reasoned trust based on sufficient evidence, even when absolute proof is lacking. It, likewise, rests on confidence in our intellectual faculties and the coherence of the universe. In this way, faith—like science—is built on justified belief, not absolute certainty. 

This kind of trust—rooted in presuppositions, coherence, and probability—isn’t foreign to Christian belief. It’s woven into the very fabric of our faith. And the biblical texts before us this morning affirm this. They don’t ask us to turn off our minds. Instead, they invite us to think carefully about what justifies trust. Faith is presented not as a leap into the void, but as a rational commitment based on what can be reasonably known. 

In Genesis 15:1–6, we’ll see faith presented as a reasoned trust grounded in sufficient evidence—enough evidence to justify a costly, life-changing commitment, even without full understanding. 

In Hebrews 11:1–3, faith is described as “the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.” This is exactly how we live every day—acting on what we can reasonably expect to be true, even when we can’t fully prove it. Scientists call this a working hypothesis. 

In Hebrews 11:8–16, we see this sort of “experimental faith” played out in Abraham’s life. What begins as a reasonable step becomes, in time, a dependable pattern. His experience becomes part of the evidence. 

We’ll take those three passages in order. Then we’ll turn to our Gospel reading, where Jesus invites us to treat faith as a kind of practical experiment—an invitation to test God’s promises by living as though they are true. 

Let’s launch into our first point. 

Exposition: 

1. Reasoned Trust Grounded in Sufficient Evidence 

Something happened in Genesis 12:1—something powerful enough to compel Abram to leave behind his homeland, his family, his culture, and his inherited religion. A voice called him, promising land, blessing, and a future. Somehow, that voice carried enough clarity, authority, and weight that Abram obeyed. That obedience was not a leap into the void. It was a rational step, grounded in a compelling experience—an encounter sufficient to justify a total reorient-ation of his life. 

This kind of pivot isn’t foreign to the world of science. In 1905, Albert Einstein proposed what would become his theory of special relativity, built on the idea that the speed of light is constant in all frames of reference. At the time, the experimental evidence was extremely limited. But the insight was so compelling—so logically coherent—that it shifted the direction of modern physics. Einstein didn’t have all the answers, but he had seen enough to justify a major step. 

That’s how faith worked for Abram. By the time we reach Genesis 15, God’s promise of progeny remains unfulfilled. Abram is still waiting. When he raises the concern, God responds not with proof but with a sign: “Look toward heaven and count the stars… so shall your descendants be.” And Abram believes this. 

Not because he has certainty. Not because the logic is airtight. But because he already knows enough about God to trust him. His trust isn’t a blind wish—it is a reasoned belief grounded in what he has experienced. The evidence isn’t total, but it is sufficient for him to make a rational commitment based on what he has already witnessed. 

1. Faith as a Working Hypothesis 

The writer of Hebrews begins with a definition that’s often quoted but not always understood: “Faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.” It sounds poetic, but it’s profoundly practical. Faith, in this sense, is not blind belief—it’s the kind of confidence we act on when the evidence points clearly in a direction, even if all the answers aren’t in. 

In that way, faith is no different from what scientists call a working hypothesis. Scientific inquiry doesn’t begin with certainty—it begins with a reasoned assumption based on prior knowledge. Scientists don’t wait until every detail is known; they move forward with assurance about the out-comes they hope to observe, based on convictions about things that aren’t yet fully seen or understood. The entire scientific enterprise depends on assumptions: that nature is ordered, that every effect has a cause, that physical laws are stable across time and space. None of these can be proven before the experiment—they must be presupposed in order for the work to begin. 

Christian faith relies on a basic conviction—reasonable and time-tested—that the world we inhabit has a Creator, a mind behind its order and beauty. We may not see that reality directly, but we trust what we have already seen and experienced. Our belief is not built on proof, but on coherence: things fit together. The story makes sense. 

And in this, Christian faith is no more speculative than many of the claims made by modern physics. Consider Stephen Hawking’s now-famous statement: “Because there is a law such as gravity, the universe can and will create itself from nothing.” That’s a bold claim, but it’s also a revealing one. Hawking assumes—without explanation—that physical laws exist independently of the universe itself, somehow present before space, time, and matter came into being. But how can laws exist in the absence of everything they govern? 

That is not a scientific conclusion—it is a metaphysical assumption. And it rests, as surely as any religious belief, on a conviction about things unseen. 

In the end, both science and faith begin with trust. One way or another, we all live by a working hypothesis. 

1. Faith Confirmed by Experience 

Faith often starts with a reasoned trust—but it doesn’t stop there. Over time, it either gains credibility or it doesn’t. It becomes more plausible, more coherent, more compel-ling—or it collapses under the weight of contrary expe-rience. 

Abraham’s life proceeds much like the way a scientific theory matures. An initial promising result invites further investigation; then, repeated, consistent outcomes deepen confidence in the model. Faith, like science, grows through testing. When God’s promises continue to prove trust-worthy through life’s uncertainties, it becomes increasingly reasonable to keep believing. 

Abraham began with compelling but limited evidence—enough to take a bold step of trust. Over time, as he “expe-rimented” with dependence on God, his experience added to that initial evidence. He settled in a foreign land, welcomed descendants, and gained a portion of the promised land. Though the fullness of God’s promises remained unseen, this growing pattern of experience strengthened his faith and made it increasingly reasonable to trust in what was yet to come. 

This is how rational belief develops. We start with limited data but keep gathering more through experience and observation. That accumulating evidence doesn’t produce absolute certainty, but it builds a strong case. 

Conclusion: 

Let me wrap up by shifting our focus from the conceptual to the practical. 

In the Genesis and Hebrews readings, we’ve seen how faith—like science—begins with sufficient evidence, proceeds as reasoned trust, and is strengthened through continued experience. In Luke 12, Jesus presents his disciples with something of a “model experiment” that puts this kind of faith into action. 

When Jesus says, “Do not be afraid… your Father has been pleased to give you the kingdom,” he’s calling his disciples to reasoned trust—based on what they’ve already learned of God’s character and faithfulness. The hypothesis he wants them to begin with is simple: “You needn’t fear the loss of security, because God has promised to give you all you need.” 

Next, he tells them how to test that hypothesis: “Sell your earthly possessions and give what you don’t need to the poor—see whether God really will provide.” He’s not calling them to reckless abandon, but to test God’s promise. If God comes through, then it follows that God is indeed reliable—and that their “treasure” is more secure under heavenly protection than with earthly safeguards. 

But Jesus doesn’t want them to stop there. One positive result could always be a fluke! So he calls them to keep running the experiment, to keep testing. When he tells them to “be dressed and ready for service” and to “keep their lamps burning,” he’s urging them to continue their experiment—watchfully, persistently—testing the promise in various circumstances, and not stopping until the evidence becomes undeniable at his return. 

So let’s return to where we began. Faith in God is no delusion. It is a rational approach to life: a working hypo-thesis grounded in limited but compelling evidence, built on reasonable assumptions about reality, and strengthened by continual testing. It isn’t a cop-out. It’s not blind. It’s a thoughtful, honest, and intelligent way to live. My hope is that what you’ve heard today helps you see why it’s not only okay—but utterly reasonable—to have faith in faith. AMEN.