The Mathematics of Faith: Some Equations Cannot Be Solved....
The Argument
He listened quietly as they argued.
The topic this time was a respected religious leader defending the Head of State.
Voices rose. Someone quoted Scripture. Another quoted the Constitution. Everyone was certain.
He said nothing.
He had spent the entire day Molue-hopping, climbing aboard one bus after another, speaking wherever people would listen. Sometimes for five minutes. Sometimes until the conductor shouted for him to get down.
By evening, he was exhausted.
One Last Stop
There was only one stop left before heading home.
The Amala joint at Iddo.
A plate of hot àmàlà, ẹ̀wẹ̀dú and gbẹ̀gìrì would quiet the hunger in his earthly belly.
He smiled.
He loved this simple life.
No title. No office. No entourage.
Just buses, conversations, strangers… and Christ.
The argument grew louder.
Someone declared that loyalty to authority was the highest Christian virtue. Another insisted that the Church must never criticize the government.
An elderly woman simply shook her head.
He looked up.
"There comes a time to bow out."
A pause.
"Hint: Pope Benedict."
The bus fell silent.
The Mathematics of Truth
"My greatest regret?"
"I spent decades believing I wasn't good enough."
The passengers looked at him.
"I loved mathematics. Beautiful subject. An equation is simply two sides that look different—but are, in fact, the same."
He smiled.
"The venerable pastor has a PhD in Mathematics."
Another pause.
"But here's the thing…
Some equations cannot be solved."
A young man interrupted.
"Why? Because they're too difficult?"
He shook his head.
"No.
Because they were never equations in the first place."
When the Premise Is False
He reached into his bag and unfolded a sheet of paper.
On it was written:
2 cups of white sand + 2 eggs + 2 tablespoons of baking soda + 2 tablespoons of brown sugar = 3 loaves of chocolate bread.
"Now answer this."
"How many eggs do you need to make ten loaves of chocolate bread?"
Nobody spoke.
"You cannot solve it. Not because you're bad at mathematics.
Because the premise is false."
He folded the paper.
"If your recipe can never produce chocolate bread, no amount of algebra will rescue it."
The conductor shouted the next bus stop.
Nobody moved.
The Wrong Equation
"I've spent much of my life watching Christians argue over equations.
Denomination versus denomination.
Tradition versus tradition.
Doctrine versus doctrine."
He sighed.
"And every now and then I discover that the problem isn't that the equation is difficult.
It's that Christ was removed from it long ago."
Silence settled over the bus.
The Unseen Canopy
"Our faith in God is what makes us beautiful in His sight. It is what carries us through adversity.
He will test us—there is no doubt about that.
But His grace is the unseen canopy stretched beneath us, ready to catch us when we stumble… when we slip… when we fall… when we think we've disappointed Him beyond repair."
He looked out of the window.
"It is a love story.
Creation itself is a love story.
Those who most desperately need His mercy often discover that He was closest to them all along.
Not watching from a distance.
Not indifferent.
Cheering.
Waiting.
Calling.
Lifting."
His voice softened.
"One day, those sad eyes of yours—and mine—will finally realize that He never stopped watching over us."
The Only Question That Matters
He laughed quietly.
"Where was I?
Ah… yes.
Some equations cannot be solved.
And some Christian traditions cannot be reconciled with Christ."
He gathered his papers.
"My greatest regret wasn't that I failed.
It was that I believed I wasn't worthy to speak about Christ.
So I chased the foolish desires of my own heart instead."
One last pause.
"Perhaps that's why I no longer worry about winning arguments.
I'm more interested in asking whether the equation itself is true."
Iddo
Then he quoted Friedrich Nietzsche:
"Those who have ideals but fail to reach them live more frivolously than those who have none."
The conductor slapped the side of the bus.
"Iddo!"
He smiled, climbed down, brushed the dust from his trousers, and walked towards the Amala joint.
But his soul...
His soul was full.
#MyFrancisEssays
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