I like crime shows, especially the ones that keep viewers in suspense by presenting the evidence one piece at a time. As the case unfolds, the evidence seems to accumulate–first in favor of guilt, then in favor of innocence, and sometimes back again–until the verdict is finally revealed.
What always strikes me about these cases is how often there is substantial evidence pointing in two completely opposite directions. And whenever I watch them, I can’t help drawing a parallel to the debate over the resurrection of Christ.
We like things to be black and white. We want evidence to point decisively in one direction or the other. But that simply isn’t how things always work in real life. Sometimes the evidence points both ways, even in situations where we desperately want it to be conclusive–such as when a child has been murdered.
Consider, for example, the JonBenét Ramsey case. More than two decades later, the case remains unsolved, and the evidence can be marshaled both for and against the involvement of the Ramsey family. Consider just a few examples.
NOT GUILTY
On the night JonBenét was killed, two windows had been left slightly open to accommodate electrical cords for the outdoor Christmas lights. There was also a broken basement window and an unlocked door. All of these circumstances provided an opportunity for an intruder.
GUILTY
On the other hand, the steel grate covering the basement window had undisturbed cobwebs, and the foliage surrounding it appeared undisturbed. There were also cobwebs in the tracks of various windows, along with dust and debris on some windowsills. This evidence seems difficult to reconcile with an intruder entering through one of those windows.
NOT GUILTY
In 2003, trace DNA recovered from JonBenét’s clothing was determined to belong to an unknown male. The DNA did not match any of the Ramsey family members.
GUILTY
Forensic pathologist Michael Baden, however, pointed out that trace DNA can be transferred to clothing or other surfaces through entirely innocent means and argued that it did not establish that the murder was committed by a stranger.
NOT GUILTY
A federal court ruled that it was highly unlikely Patsy Ramsey had written the ransom note, citing the conclusions of six certified handwriting experts.
GUILTY
Yet the ransom note contained information known to the Ramsey family, including the precise amount of John Ramsey’s Christmas bonus from the previous year. It was also written on stationery from the Ramsey home. This raises the obvious question of why an intruder would have used the family’s stationery and incorporated such specific information into the note.
NOT GUILTY
Then again, if the Ramseys themselves had written the note, why would they have included information that could potentially implicate them?
In 2008, the Boulder District Attorney’s Office announced that, based on newly developed DNA testing, the Ramsey family members had been excluded as suspects, and District Attorney Mary Lacy publicly exonerated them.
GUILTY—OR AT LEAST NOT NECESSARILY INNOCENT
But even that conclusion has been disputed. Gordon Coombes, a former investigator for the Boulder County District Attorney’s Office, later questioned whether the DNA evidence alone was sufficient to completely absolve the family. As he noted, people shed DNA constantly, and the crime scene had not been secured properly from the beginning.
NOT GUILTY
There was no known history of child abuse involving the Ramseys, nor was there established evidence that they had ever abused their children.
GUILTY
On the other hand, neighbor Melody Stanton reported hearing what she believed was a child’s scream shortly after midnight coming from the direction of the Ramsey residence. If the Ramseys were innocent, one might reasonably ask why they apparently did not hear the scream and come to JonBenét’s aid.
Retired FBI profiler Gregg McCrary has also stated that, statistically, a family member or caregiver is far more likely to be involved in the homicide of a child than a stranger.
Investigators found no clear evidence of forced entry, while they did find indications that the crime scene may have been staged, including the elaborate ransom note. The Ramseys’ interactions with investigators have also been the subject of criticism and debate.
So there you have it: evidence pointing in opposite directions. Evidence that can be used to construct a case for guilt and evidence that can be used to construct a case for innocence.
And yet, of course, JonBenét was either killed by someone inside the family or she wasn’t. Both possibilities cannot ultimately be true.
That brings me to the resurrection.
I am not interested here in rehashing the evidence for or against the resurrection. That is not the purpose of this post. My point is more fundamental:
The existence of compelling evidence for the resurrection of Jesus does not, by itself, prove that the resurrection happened. Likewise, the existence of compelling evidence against it does not, by itself, prove that it did not happen.
That may sound strange at first, particularly to Christians. But competing lines of evidence are hardly unique to the resurrection. They appear throughout historical investigation–in criminal cases, political controversies, alleged miracles, paranormal claims, UFO reports, and countless other disputed events.
Sometimes we have to reach a conclusion even though substantial evidence remains on the other side.
Consider the Ramsey case. If I conclude that the Ramseys were innocent, I have to construct a scenario in which an intruder entered their home without being detected, left little or no physical evidence of doing so, obtained their stationery and a pen, wrote a bizarre ransom note containing information known to the family, murdered JonBenét rather than kidnapping her, and then disappeared without ever being identified.
That is difficult to believe.
But if I conclude that the Ramseys were guilty, I have to believe that two apparently respectable parents with no established history of child abuse murdered their daughter and then constructed an elaborate scenario to make it appear that an intruder had committed the crime.
That, too, is difficult to believe.
This is the inconvenient nature of evidence: sometimes no interpretation allows us to account comfortably for everything we know.
The Nature of Evidence
I suspect many Christians would be uncomfortable placing the resurrection in the same general category as the Ramsey case—or with other disputed historical claims. And the reason is understandable. Whether we decide the Ramseys were guilty or innocent has no eternal consequences for us. Neither does our conclusion about UFOs, cryptids, ghosts, or other controversial phenomena.
The resurrection is different because so much is believed to be at stake.
But the fact that the stakes are higher does not change the nature of evidence. Evidence does not become more conclusive simply because the proposition under consideration is more important.
An atheist, for example, might examine the historical evidence for the resurrection and even concede that it is substantial. Would that necessarily obligate him to conclude that Jesus was resurrected?
Not necessarily.
He might instead ask a different question: In a world populated by billions of people who believe in an afterlife, expect divine intervention, tell stories about miracles, and naturally seek experiences that confirm their beliefs, how surprising would it really be for a reasonably credible resurrection claim to emerge somewhere in history?
He might conclude that such a claim was almost inevitable. From his perspective, the possibility that people were mistaken, that stories developed over time, or that some individuals sincerely believed something that did not actually happen might seem far more plausible than the possibility that a supernatural being entered history and suspended the ordinary laws of nature.
A Christian, of course, may interpret precisely the same evidence very differently.
And that brings us to the deeper issue.
A Matter of Interpretation
Ultimately, our conclusions about evidence may depend on considerably more than the evidence itself. They may be influenced by our upbringing, experiences, expectations, desires, assumptions about reality, and prior beliefs.
Consider two people examining the Ramsey case. A mother who finds it almost impossible to imagine a parent harming a child might instinctively lean toward the family’s innocence. A police officer who has spent years witnessing human beings at their worst might interpret the same circumstances very differently.
The same phenomenon can occur with the resurrection.
Someone raised within the Christian faith may approach the evidence with the assumption that resurrection is possible and that God has acted decisively in history. Someone raised outside the faith may begin with very different assumptions. The evidence may be identical, but the interpretive framework is not.
In that sense, our conclusions may sometimes tell us as much about our antecedent beliefs as they do about the evidence itself.
Interestingly, this idea is not foreign to Scripture. The Bible does not present faith as merely the result of an impartial examination of evidence followed by a rational decision. Jesus says that no one can come to him unless the Father draws that person (John 6:44). Paul similarly describes faith as a gift of God: “For by grace you are saved through faith, and that not of yourselves; it is the gift of God” (Ephesians 2:8–9).
In other words, Scripture does not necessarily portray belief as something we simply manufacture by examining enough evidence and making the correct intellectual choice.
Perhaps, then, we do not simply believe because we see. Perhaps, in some important sense, we see because we believe.
And that brings me back to my original contention:
The fact that there is compelling evidence for the resurrection of Jesus does not necessarily mean that it happened, and the fact that there is compelling evidence against it does not necessarily mean that it didn’t.
When evidence points in two directions, as it sometimes does, perhaps the wisest response is not absolute certainty but humility. We should examine the evidence honestly, follow the interpretation that seems most reasonable to us, and recognize that we may be wrong. And if there is a God who knows everything—including the limitations, assumptions, experiences, and circumstances that shape the way each of us evaluates evidence—then perhaps we can trust that an omniscient God will understand if we get it wrong.