That day, I learned

In high school, we had a competition in our speech and debate class where we had to debate the principles in Psalms 23 from both a Christian and an atheist perspective. Then, we switched positions to argue the other side. For those unfamiliar with speech and debate class, it's a class where you learn to deliver oral speeches and prepare for debates on topics assigned by the teacher in an organized format. Debate competitions typically start with the adjudicator reading the debate topic.

The topic was, "Resolved. The Bible Psalms 23 quotes principles that promote a lifestyle. Argue how the principles in Psalms 23 promote either a Christian or an Atheist lifestyle. You have ten minutes to confer with your teammates to prepare your arguments and five minutes each to make your case. You will then have three minutes each to make your rebuttal. After a short break, teams will have five minutes to prepare to make reverse arguments and three minutes to present your counter case. Any questions? The clock starts now."

Although I don't remember all the details, I do recall what our team did to debate the other team. We had five members, so three of us worked on the Christian perspective argument, which we had to present against the other team's atheist perspective. Two of our teammates prepared for the atheist argument for the reversal later. It was amusing that one of those two preparing for the atheist argument was the son of a minister, and we were all curious about how he would handle it.

Two speakers on our team tag-teamed the Christian argument, while I took notes and made the rebuttal. We did quite well, but then came the reversal. The three of us were exhausted because it requires a lot of energy and concentration, so we weren't much help with the reversal arguments. We kept asking Jimmy, the preacher's son, about his arguments. He was a good speaker, but he was obviously nervous, assuring us he had it under control.

When Jimmy got up to speak, he looked incredibly nervous and deflated. We were concerned he might choke and cost us the competition. He closed his eyes, bowed his head, and seemed to pray for what felt like a minute.

Then, suddenly, he shouted in a Southern Baptist minister drawl, "Experience the Freedom of Atheism!" and slammed his fist on the podium. The room fell silent, and even the teacher looked up with a bewildered expression.

He continued, dramatically emphasizing each phrase: "Lie down in green pastures of rationality-ya! Where paths of righteousness are paved by critical thinking-ya!" He gestured to his temple on his head while saying "critical thinking."

He pointed and wagged his finger while saying, "In the shadow of death, find solace in the here... and... now." He pounded his fist for emphasis on the last three words.

Then, he picked up a textbook and declared, "There's no divine table, but a table before me offering the world of knowledge in a plethora of books! " We were all in awe of how he could caress and punctuate each word so eloquently.

He continued, "My cup runs over with the richness of life's experiences, guided by goodness and mercy—human values that unite us all." He spoke the last bit in hushed, reverent tones.

He concluded, "Embrace atheism!" with his arms wide, chin held high, and hands facing up. "And discover a world where your beliefs are rooted in reason and compassion." He slowed down, smiled lovingly, and brought his arms together as if to give everyone a hug, then hugged himself.

After a few awkward moments, the class erupted into applause. Our teacher was grinning and seemed to be rooting for our team as he passed out ballots for our classmates to vote for the winner. I don't remember the exact tally, but we won. Jimmy received many congratulations, and students said he made the best argument, not necessarily for logical reasons, but because they liked how they felt when he spoke.

That day, I learned a valuable lesson about the power of effective communication and how emotions can sway opinions as much as or even more than logic.