It is true that you can't prove a negative. However, the

Hear the words of Ray Comfort, who declared with clarity and conviction: “It is true that you can't prove a negative. However, the existence of God is provable in the same way a building is positive proof that there was a builder.” In this utterance, he speaks of the eternal debate between faith and doubt, belief and skepticism. He reminds us that while absence cannot be proven, presence testifies of itself. Just as a structure rising upon the earth is undeniable witness to the hand that shaped it, so too is the universe itself a testament to its Creator.

The origin of this saying rests in Comfort’s work as a Christian apologist, often engaging with those who deny the divine. To the skeptic who demands evidence, he points not to abstractions, but to the most concrete of analogies: a building cannot spring into being without a builder, nor a painting without a painter, nor a song without a singer. If such truths are obvious in small things, how much more in the great expanse of the cosmos? His argument draws from the ancient reasoning of philosophers and theologians, who for centuries have argued that design reveals a Designer.

History itself offers luminous examples. Consider Sir Isaac Newton, who peered into the mysteries of gravity and motion, unlocking secrets of the universe. For Newton, the intricate laws he uncovered were not evidence against God, but proof of His hand. He once said, “In the absence of any other proof, the thumb alone would convince me of God’s existence.” Newton, like Comfort, understood that complexity, order, and beauty cry out that they were made, not by accident, but by intention. The building testifies to the builder.

The meaning of Comfort’s words goes beyond argument; it is a call to perception. Too often, we walk amidst wonders yet see nothing. We marvel at towers of steel and give credit to engineers, yet gaze upon the stars and call them chance. We admire the artistry of a cathedral yet ignore the artistry of a tree, the symmetry of a flower, the mystery of the human heart. His words call us back to reverence, to see in the world not randomness but design, not emptiness but purpose.

Yet he also speaks to the limits of human reason. “You can’t prove a negative,” he admits. To demand proof that something does not exist is folly, for absence cannot leave evidence. The wise instead look to presence: to the things that are, to the voices of creation, to the marks of intelligence upon the fabric of life. This is not blind faith, but faith awakened by observation, the same kind of reason that makes us certain a castle did not rise from sand by accident.

The lesson is clear: open your eyes, and let humility guide you. Do not dismiss the signs written across the heavens and the earth. Look at creation with the same honesty you would give to human works. If you believe the small requires a maker, do not shrink from the conclusion that the great requires One greater still. Skepticism may sharpen the mind, but awe enlarges the soul.

Practically, this means living with awareness. When you rise each morning, look at the world not as chaos, but as gift. When you see beauty, let gratitude stir. When you see order, let reverence awaken. And whether you are certain or doubting, allow yourself to ask—not only how does this exist, but why. In such questions, the heart begins to encounter the Builder behind the building.

So let us hold fast to Comfort’s analogy: “The existence of God is provable in the same way a building is positive proof that there was a builder.” The stone proclaims the mason, the song proclaims the composer, the world itself proclaims its Maker. Let us walk not as blind wanderers through creation, but as children awakened to its meaning, and in so doing, find strength, purpose, and peace in the One whose fingerprints cover all that is.