My upbringing and education were secular, with no serious consideration of religion. Although my family was nominally Anglican and my parents felt obliged to take us to Sunday school and have us christened, my mother told us she did not believe in God’s existence. Stories about arks and miracles seemed like fables for children.

As a teenager with a minimal understanding of Scripture, I decided that Christianity was a superstitious and limited worldview, and that a miracle-working god-man could only be nonsense. (It is easy to reject teachings when you know them only at a trivial, superficial level.)

As a young adult, I became interested in philosophies like existentialism, Stoicism, and nihilism, viewing them as possible avenues of finding meaning in life. I was driven to answer the fundamental question of whether our lives have meaning, as opposed to being merely random events that end in death. And for roughly 10 years, I searched for answers in the findings of modern science as well as in a wide range of humankind’s belief systems, both philosophical and religious. Both paths would ultimately converge, leading me to an unlikely faith in Christ.

My study of religious traditions brought me into contact with Daoism, Buddhism, Islam, Hinduism, forms of mysticism and meditation, and various Eastern gurus. Each system offered glimmers of insight, but none felt intellectually satisfying. I wondered whether I would ever find one unified truth about life and the cosmos.

At various points in my research, I encountered references to the “cosmic Christ.” And I decided that a truly objective study would involve familiarizing myself with Christian Scripture, just as I’d done with texts like the Quran. While commuting to teach mathematics at the University of Witwatersrand in Johannesburg, I would listen to recordings of the New Testament, hoping they would validate my quest to discredit the Christian message.

The outcome, however, ...