"Professor," Josh said, turning to Radisson, "you don't just believe God doesn't exist. You hate Him. But how can you hate something that isn't real?"
Radisson, a man whose sharp suits matched his even sharper intellect, paced at the front of the room. He didn't waste time with introductions. Instead, he handed out a single sheet of paper to every student.
The silence that followed was heavy. Radisson’s composure finally cracked, revealing a deep-seated pain from his past. In that moment, the debate was no longer about logic; it was about the human soul.
Standing alone against a majority to uphold what one believes is true.
"Is there a problem, Mr. Wheaton?" Radisson’s eyes locked onto his.
The sun beat down on the brick walkways of Hadleigh University, but inside the Philosophy 101 lecture hall, the air was chilled. Josh Wheaton adjusted the strap of his backpack, feeling the weight of the "God’s Not Dead" flyer tucked inside. He had heard the rumors about Professor Radisson, but he hadn't expected the man to be so imposing.
"I can't sign this," Josh said, his voice steadier than he felt.