I don't know if God exists, but it would be better for His reputation if He didn't.
– Jules Renard (1864-1910)
One evening when I was twelve years old, Grandpa and I stood silently on the front lawn of the huge old family farm house in the Central Valley of California, not far from Modesto. It was very quiet, the sort of quiet you only get far from the city, after the work has stopped on the farm, the tractors are silent, and the trucks on the highway have all gone on their way. A few crickets were starting their evening choir. An owl's hoot carried clearly across the forty-acre bean field from the old dairy barn on the south side, where she made her nest.
The subject that held our rapt attention was the sunset, one of those rare magnificent displays that follows a spring storm, when the air is crystal clear over the great Central Valley farmlands. The sun's fading rays illuminated the underside of the high, lingering clouds, making them glow in all colors, from bright orange near the horizon, to brilliant red above us, to a dull purple behind us against the faint outline of the snow-capped Sierra Nevada mountains, all set against a sky so blue and clear it made you dizzy.
As the sunset faded, Grandpa said without turning, "I don't know how you can witness such magnificence and not believe in God."
Without thinking, the twelve-year-old version of me replied, "I don't see the connection, Grandpa. Einstein explained why the sky is blue and the sunset's red. He got a Nobel Prize for it. It's because of the photoelectric effect. You see, the oxygen..."
Grandpa turned and looked at me, and I stopped. Grandpa was an unusual man, a farmer with a degree from the University of California. In fact, my Grandfather was in the very first class at UC Davis in 1929, where I also got my bachelor's degree forty-nine years later. Grandpa knew about science, and a bit about physics, and Grandpa knew I was a science nerd.
There was a moment's silence. "I don't know how I'd survive without God, son. My life has been very hard and full of misery, but I've kept going because I know I'll get my reward when I die. And every now and then, God shows me His glory in a sunset."
I didn't know what to say. Grandpa's life miserable? How could this be?
"Even if you don't believe in God, son, you should take time whenever you can to stop and watch His glorious sunsets. Never forget that."
And I never did. I still think of Grandpa whenever I see a sunset. I know Einstein explained it in 1906, but it's still one of the most beautiful things I've ever seen. Thanks, Grandpa.
But I'll also never forget those sad words, "I don't know how I'd survive without God." Those eight words were a prison for my Grandpa. He used an imaginary reward in heaven to help him accept his misery. Instead of making his life better, he did what men and women have been taught to do for thousands of years: Accept your fate, don't complain, don't question your life, because your reward comes later.
Grandpa taught me more with those eight sad words than anything he could have explained about God's majesty revealed in a sunset. His resignation inspired me to make my life better, to fix the things that are wrong in my life, and to never give up the fight. There is no heaven, and there is no hell. If my life sucks now, I have to make it better now, because there is no second chance.
And my life is good. Thanks for that lesson, too, Grandpa.