Let’s try another analogy. I’m trapped on the tenth floor of a burning building. The elevator has melted, the stairs have collapsed, and my only escape is to jump out the window into a blanket held by a group of volunteer firemen. The blanket looks thin. Some of the firemen have been celebrating at Octoberfest. Would it be rational to say, “I’m not jumping; at best I give them a 10 percent chance of catching me; I may die up here, but I won’t jump out the window and risk looking naive”? Standing in the burning building, I am intensely aware that I am not in the probability calculating game; I am in the survival game. What makes jumping out the window rational is that it is the best shot I have at achieving my purpose, which is to survive. The question of faith is never just a question of calculating the odds of God’s existence. We are not just probability calculators. We live in a burning building. It’s called a body. The clock is ticking.

Faith and Doubt by John Ortberg