How a TV Show, Apologetics, and a Thought Experiment Collided
Back in 2011, my daughters and I discovered the medical drama House, M.D.—and we loved it. Dr. Gregory House, portrayed brilliantly by Hugh Laurie, was captivating: sharp, cruel, brilliant, and deeply wounded. He solved medical mysteries while pushing away anyone who cared about him. House was a paradox—an addict, a genius, a man tormented by physical and emotional pain. And I couldn’t stop thinking about him.
As a fun writing exercise (and maybe as a spiritual provocation), I imagined what it would be like to engage House in a series of conversations about faith, truth, pain, and God. I was studying presuppositional apologetics at the time, and this became a kind of thought experiment: Could a guy like House ever entertain the gospel?
I published a few posts about it online. People responded. One former football parent even emailed me, concerned about the "doctor who was giving me a hard time"—not realizing it was fiction!
So now, over a decade later, I’ve gone back and revised those entries into one cohesive story. If you watched House, it’ll make more sense. If not—imagine Sherlock Holmes with a limp and Vicodin addiction, but instead of solving crimes, he diagnoses rare diseases while insulting everyone in the room.
This isn’t theology. It’s not even entirely fiction. It’s a portrait of how real pain, skepticism, and faith can intersect in powerful, uncomfortable ways.
About the show: House, M.D. was a medical drama that aired on FOX from 2004 to 2012, starring Hugh Laurie as the brilliant but abrasive Dr. Gregory House. Set at the fictional Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital in New Jersey, the show followed House and his diagnostic team as they unraveled complex medical mysteries.
What set the show apart wasn’t just the cases—but House himself. An atheist, drug-addicted misanthrope with a cane, a Vicodin addiction, and zero tolerance for small talk, House embodied a brutal kind of honesty. His motto, "Everybody lies," shaped his worldview and his approach to medicine—and to people.
Despite his arrogance and cynicism, audiences were drawn to House’s pain, brilliance, and occasional glimpses of vulnerability. He was Sherlock Holmes with a stethoscope—and often just as emotionally detached. The show combined razor-sharp dialogue, philosophical tension, and moral complexity, making it one of the most compelling character studies on TV.
I hope you enjoy it.
🩺 “Meeting House”: The Story
I don’t know how long it took before Dr. Gregory House finally acknowledged me. I had long since decided he never would—and, frankly, I didn’t expect him to.
I didn’t feel worthy of the conversation. I was a Bible teacher and football coach—not a theologian. I wasn’t fasting or praying like I should’ve been. And yet… House responded.
Of course, I wasn’t even sure it was him. Could be a prank. Could be bait for humiliation. Or maybe—just maybe—he was curious.
My iPhone buzzed:
"Your persistence has annoyed me long enough. How do I press CANCEL?"
That was it. After months of texts with no reply—there he was.
📨 The Outreach
Here’s what I had sent him (various versions over time):
“Dr. House, I’m a football coach and Bible teacher. I’ve admired your work from afar. You’ve articulated a strong view that God doesn’t exist. I’d love a short, private window of time to challenge that worldview—no agenda, no publicity, and I don’t expect to persuade you. But I’d like a friendly back and forth. I’m your ally, not your enemy.”
No reply. Not even a “Stop.” So I kept trying—once in a while, a new message, a sincere tone.
🔍 A Strange Clue
One week, I noticed a spike in blog visits—especially to my apologetics posts. The source was a .edu domain.
Then came the text.
I replied:
“Thanks for responding. All you have to do is say STOP and I’m gone. But maybe, if you give me one conversation, you can decide whether this exercise is even worth continuing.”
☎️ The Game Begins
At 2:00 a.m. one night, my phone rang.
“Did I wake you?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Say ‘niiiiice whiiite riiice’ with a southern drawl.”
I said it.
“Already disappointed. But you’ve annoyed me enough that I want to play now. I’ll call you from time to time. No pleasantries. I ask, you answer. We’ll continue until I’m bored, you give up, or I convince you there is no God.”
Click.
📵 A Pattern of Calls
That was the start of a strange rhythm. Random calls—mostly in the middle of the night. He’d throw out classic apologetics challenges:
“If God is good and God is God, why are children dying?”
“Are gay people going to hell?”
“Do you believe in evolution?”
I’d start to answer… and he’d hang up. Sometimes right before the answer got rolling. Other times mid-sentence.
One time he told me:
“You have no passion. Your answers are polished, safe, and ultimately worthless.”
That one stung. Not because I believed it—but because I wondered if he was right.
✈️ The Invitation
Then came the unexpected:
“You’re flying to Princeton. Five days. You’ll stay at the Nassau Inn. I’m paying. Someone from the hospital will arrange the travel. See you Thursday.”
What had I gotten into?
🏨 Princeton, New Jersey
I arrived exhausted and uncertain. What was this? A trap? A prank?
House met me at the hotel lobby—taller than I imagined. He limped in, leaned on his cane, and said:
“Let’s take a walk.”
I walked. He rode a Segway. He narrated campus history like a tour guide on autopilot. Albert Einstein, Presbyterian roots, academic accolades.
Finally, coffee. He paid.
“You wanted to be here. GO.”
I tried to speak thoughtfully. He snapped:
“No, go. Don’t hedge. Don’t do that southern soft shoe. No bush-beating. Say what you came to say.”
I stumbled out a few honest words about caring, about mystery, about not knowing my own motives. Something in that broke through.
He nodded. And then he told me:
“I’ve read everything you’ve posted. You are genuine—but needy. You want validation. You think I’m famous, and if I approve of you, then you matter more.”
I pushed back: “So does that make my faith false?”
He paused.
“Your faith is delusional. Harmful. I believe in the transcendental argument for the non-existence of God.”
I laughed. “You’re not the first.”
“So why are you here?” he asked. “You won’t change me.”
“I came to let you see. See the pain. See the questions. See the darkness. And maybe see that the light holds.”
We sat there for a long time. Coffee cooled. Our eyes met.
“Then let’s try to turn on all the light,” I said.
And we both laughed.
✝️ Why It Still Matters
This story didn’t “convert” House. It’s not really about that. What it did was force me to confront my own motivations—my own heart. It reminded me that faith isn’t a debate to win, but a light to hold up in dark places.
Some people need answers. Others need empathy. And some, like House, need a fellow limping soul to walk beside them—even for just a few steps.
“Life is too short and the gospel is too good to spend time living as a poser.” – Rev. David Filson
