The Watchmaker’s Wager

Blaise Pascal was a Renaissance man—among other things, he was a philosopher, mathematician, physicist, and theologian. Today, however, he is remembered best as the author of a philosophical argument simply called, “Pascal’s Wager.” Maybe you’ve heard of it?

While not a fully developed proof for the existence of God,—not in the formal, philosophical sense, that is—“Pascal’s Wager” is nonetheless just that—a wager. Indeed, “Pascal’s Wager” is less a strict argument for the existence of God and more an argument for why, even in the midst of uncertainty, belief in God is an infinitely better bet than the alternative. Nor is “Pascal’s Wager” an argument for the God of the Bible, per se, but rather an interesting thought experiment for the existence of a God in general.

It goes a little something like this.

To believe in God and live a life in accordance with what you believe to be His will (denying self, suffering for righteousness’ sake, giving generously, loving God and others above yourself) is an infinitely safe wager because of the infinite stakes involved, even if you should die only to discover that God does not exist. Indeed, you will have lost nothing in the end, for nothing is what you will slip into. At the very worst, you will have lived a life more joyful and fulfilling than most, albeit one that does not ultimately count for anything in the grand scheme of a rapidly expanding and woefully disinterested material universe. However, should God exist, your “wager” or “bet” on His existence will be of eternal and infinite value. God will have been proven to be true and your faith will not have been in vain—infinitely far from it!

On the other hand, one can live a life of fleeting pleasure under the assumption that God does not exist, and if they are correct, they will have lived a life of comfort and experience no eternal consequences for this kind of life because, just like everyone else both good and bad, they will simply slip off into the void, completely and utterly unnoticed. However, should God exist, the unbeliever who lived selfishly and wickedly (or apathetically) will have made the infinite gamble, and as such, suffer infinite loss under eternal judgement in Hell for denying their Creator and spurning His lordship, love, and grace.

Once again, “Pascal’s Wager” is not an airtight philosophical argument for the existence of the God of the Bible, nor was it ever intended to be. It is, nonetheless, a starting place, particularly for unbelievers, wherein one can “count the cost” of their respective worldviews and deeply-seated beliefs in light of eternity. “Count the cost,” Pascal says, “and weigh in the scales between infinite loss and infinite gain, or else not an iota of either.” A powerful proposition. I, however, would like to introduce to you another wager, one that I find far more compelling—The Watchmaker’s Wager.

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The story goes that a woman once approached George Whitefield after one of his sermons and said something to the tune of, “Now, I enjoy your sermons as much as the next person, but why must you always keep on saying, ‘Ye must be born again!’?” Without skipping a beat, Whitefield looked the woman in the eyes and thundered: “Because ye must be born again!”

Like countless Christians throughout history, Whitefield rightly believed and preached that spiritual regeneration—being born again by the power of the Holy Spirit—was at the beating heart of the Gospel. In the words of our Lord, “Truly, truly, I say to you, unless one is born again he cannot see the kingdom of God” (John 3:3). Apart from the new birth, a man or woman cannot even see the Kingdom of God resounding all around them, let alone enter into it. If the Spirit has not done this work in a person’s heart, all their seemingly good works and outward religiosity are nothing but lipstick applied to a pig—and a dead one at that. Outside of Christ, we were all dead men walking; our greatest need wasn’t more self-esteem or motivation or even religion—we needed to be raised from the dead. We needed a new heart. Such was the dreadful state of each and every one of us before God gave us new life and washed us with the precious blood of His Son.

Whitefield understood this truth well, and so did my father. This would explain why, well over a decade ago now, he came home from work one evening and relayed an interaction he had with an elderly customer of his—an interaction that went on to change more lives than one.

My father was a watchmaker by trade. It was a dying trade appreciated and patronized primarily by those who had already done most of the living they were going to do here below. Perhaps these elderly customers of my father’s, now that they too were advanced in years, admired the workmanship of timepieces, harkening them back to a simpler time when aesthetics and function went hand in hand; or, perhaps, they simply had a timepiece in their possession that needed fixing and my father was the only one nearby who could make heads or tails of the work that was required. Who knows.

Whatever the case, one such customer strolled into my father’s cramped little shop the day of this particular interaction. Later that evening when my father relayed the conversation, he simply said that he and an older gentleman got to talking about Christianity and the Gospel. My father had asked if the customer was a Christian, to which the man replied, “Yes, I’ve been going to church my whole life.” At this point in the story, I like to imagine that my father adopted a similar posture to Whitefield’s when he responded with, “But have you been born again?”

I can almost see my father’s eyes looking out over the rim of his glasses as they slipped down his nose somewhat, his forehead inclined forward, allowing the question to sit in the stillness for a moment (he adopted this posture with me many times, particularly when waiting for my response to something he asked). If there was anything more to the conversation between my father and this man, I wasn’t aware of it at the time—except that the man seemed to indicate that my father had given him a good deal to think over before his next visit.

Not long after this encounter, my father was diagnosed with Stage 4 cancer. And not long after that, he went home to be with the One whom he loved very much; home to the embrace of the Savior who loved him far, far more. The sheer swiftness of my father’s cancer was a shock to us all, perhaps to him most of all—and yet, his faith remained true and strong to the very end. Indeed, because my father had been born twice, he needed only to die once when the time came for it.

Shortly after his funeral, my mother said that a woman who knew our dad was going to stop by with a meal she had made. In the moment, I must have missed what exactly the connection was—something about her father or father-in-law and how he was a customer of Tata’s. What I do remember is that my mother had asked if she would stay for dinner with us and that the meal she made was delicious. After we ate, the two made conversation in the kitchen while my sisters and I congregated in the living room. That evening was nearly a decade ago—and until only recently, it had faded from all memory.

Indeed, in a world governed by a sovereign God, there really are no such things as coincidences. Last summer I had the opportunity to serve at my church’s Vacation Bible School for the week. I was running the “Science and Memory Verse” section (my background is in English Literature and Law, so this was naturally a good fit for me). After one of my sessions I got to talking with another helper who I’d seen around church throughout the week. She and I exchanged names and, not entirely to my surprise, she recognized the last name Budimlic (I come from a rather large extended family, with something like 75+ first-cousins alone, 11 of which hail from a single family). Almost anytime someone recognizes my last name, whether be it at church, through work, or an old school teacher on the first day of the semester, my reply is usually the same at this point in my life: “No, no, I’m from the other, smaller Budimlic family—those are my cousins.”

However, a handful of my older cousins weren’t the only Budimlics that this woman recognized. After some back and forth, and upon discovering that my father was indeed a watchmaker (not many of those around), the pieces began to fall into place for both of us—“I think that my grandfather was a customer of your dad’s,” she said. “Actually, your dad played a part in my grandfather coming to faith.”

The more her and I talked, the more it became clear that the mysterious watchmaker who talked to her grandfather about the Lord all those years ago was none other than my father. Suddenly, conversations and details from long ago, seemingly a lifetime ago, began to draw into sharp focus. Throughout these many memories, hitherto entirely unconnected in my mind,—my father sharing the Gospel with an elderly customer, the unknown woman who came by for dinner after his funeral—was a single question that seemed to thread together the entire tapestry of events: “Have you been born again?”

A few days later the woman I met at VBS sent me a message confirming that it was indeed her mother who came by to our home with a meal shortly after my father passed. And, it was indeed her grandfather, the father-in-law of the woman who brought the meal, who visited a humble watchmaker many years ago with a broken timepiece, ultimately leaving with far more than he bargained for.

The woman with the meal, as she’s come to be called here, wrote these words detailing how her father-in-law came to faith—or, as she puts it, his “second birthday.” Here is the underside of the tapestry, the side of the story my father, John, never knew about until, perhaps, only recently:

“On Wednesday evening, February 1st, 2012, Terry had had a most interesting telephone conversation with his father. Dad had taken an old watch to a clock repair man in downtown Kitchener who is a real believer, and John had opened the back of the watch and shown Dad what was broken and what it would cost to fix. Then he had noticed the only other Ferguson who was a customer of his was Danielle. We had had some very good conversations about the Lord’s things in times past, and John asked Dad if he knew me. When Dad said he sure did, and that I was his daughter-in-law, they had a little more in common and then John asked Dad if he were a Christian. Dad emphatically replied, ‘I sure am! I’ve gone to church all my life.’ Then John asked Dad if he was born again. Just as strongly, Dad said, ‘No! I've only been born once.’ Then John asked Dad, ‘If you were to die tonight, would you go to Heaven?’ Dad could only say, ‘I hope so.’

Dad relayed this conversation to Terry on Wednesday night. We prayed about how to respond to Dad’s inquiries about what this all could mean. On Saturday afternoon, Terry called his parents to see if we could go over. They were home and so we went with our Bibles and concordance under our arms. After some general conversation, Terry asked his Dad about the conversation with the watchmaker. Then he suggested we look at some verses in the Word of God. Now Dad already believed Jesus is the Son of God and that the Bible is the Word of God, a good starting place. So, when Terry showed him John 3:1-21-36 and we read those verses about the interchange between the Lord and Nicodemus, Dad was really listening. We also found verses that speak of being saved by faith not works, and that the works of an unsaved person are as filthy rags to a holy God. We found the verse in Jeremiah (17:9) about the human heart and how it cannot be trusted. It became clear that Dad had never understood these words before and that the Holy Spirit had prepared his heart to hear them. We were there for most of the afternoon, and Dad did not want us to leave, but we left before their suppertime at the retirement home. Before we left, I invited them to come for lunch after church the next day, as I had made a big pot of fish chowder.

Having spent a sleepless night, Dad got right to the point, saying he had never understood about the need of being born again before and that he had always thought of himself as a righteous man until recently. Terry assured him that if he wanted to get right with God, he could pray right then and there, confessing his sins to God and thanking the Lord Jesus for taking the punishment for his sins and that God would assuredly do His part in causing him to be born again. Dad said he was really ready for this and he prayed a most beautiful and sincere prayer of repentance and faith in the Person and work of the Lord Jesus Christ. What joy in Heaven and on Earth in our living room!

Terry feels very, very thankful to have had the privilege of leading his father to the foot of the cross of Calvary and it has been a big encouragement to him. We are so thankful to now know we will see Dad in Heaven.

The bill for the watch repair was going to be $150.00, and Dad ended up bringing the watch home as it was. Instead, he came to the waters and bought wine and milk without money and without price! (Isaiah 55:1).”

It shouldn’t be a surprise to any believer that God delights to work out extraordinary ends through even the most ordinary of means. Indeed, so often our Gospel witness is exceedingly weak and we ourselves weaker still.

But God. He is exceedingly capable and eager to show Himself strong through our weaknesses and ordinary acts of faithful obedience. Sometimes God makes clear to us the fruits of our labor; oftentimes, however, He does not. Not completely, at least; not here, not now. But of this we can be certain: any act of loving, faithful obedience unto the Lord here below will echo in eternity, no matter how seemingly small, unseen, or insignificant. In God’s universe, there are no private moments and no unseen acts of love.

In the meantime, God is the One who waters and gives the increase. It is our duty to trust and obey, leaving the harvest to His capable hands. He is the Lord of the harvest—some will sow while others reap, building on the foundations set down by others, but God provides any and all blessing to our efforts.

Indeed, we never know what will come about because of our ordinary acts of faithfulness—be it a kind, passing word, a whispered prayer, or even a simple question. Indeed, Pascal had his wager, my father had his—“Have you been born again? If you were to die tonight, would you go to Heaven?”

“The clock of life is wound but once,

And no man has the power

To tell just when the hands will stop

At late or early hour.

To lose one’s wealth is sad indeed,

To lose one’s health is more,

To lose one’s soul is such a loss

That no man can restore.

The present only is our own,

So live, love, toil with a will,

Place no faith in ‘Tomorrow,’

For the Clock may then be still.”

—Robert H. Smith, The Clock of Life

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Photo by Mukund Shyam, Unsplash

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