What Do We Hope to Accomplish with “The Language of Science and Faith”?

Today's entry was written by Karl Giberson. You can read more about what BioLogos believes here.

Few books are written with just one purpose. Some books are written because authors believe passionately in the message of the book; some are written to entertain; some are written to make money (although most of those authors end up deeply disappointed!); some are written because authors were paid to write them. And some books should never have been written.

The Language of Science and Faith: Straight Answers to Genuine Questions has several purposes but a friend asked me what I might suggest was the primary purpose. After thinking about this a bit, I would put it like this: the most desired outcome or effect of this book is a reduction of the tension and hostility between science and religion. There is a real sense in which I wish—perhaps unrealistically—that this book and the entire BioLogos project would be so successful that BioLogos could shut down and no more books on this topic would have to be written.

The most discouraging aspect of the discussion in this book and at BioLogos is that it is, for the most part, between fellow Christians—a sort of civil war pitting brother against brother, and sister against sister. If Christians of all stripes were united against poverty or sickness, that would be a glorious war, as they set aside their small—and even large—differences to do battle with and ultimately defeat a genuine enemy. There was something grand in that. But there is something sad when Christians at Answers in Genesis and Al Mohler’s seminary, at the Discovery Institute, and even at BioLogos attack each other over the topic of origins. And, although nobody loses their lives in this war, there are real casualties, like Bruce Waltke, who lost his job last year for suggesting that evangelicals needed to take evolution seriously, or the faculty members at Calvin College on the hot seat now for their publications about Adam.

Intramural quarreling is a great embarrassment to Christianity. The clearest marker of the Christian, according to Jesus, who should know, is supposed to be love: “By this all men shall know you are my disciples,” said Jesus in John 13:35, “if you have love for one another.” Unfortunately, our love for each other is often set aside as we quarrel about evolution. I have been uncharitably maligned by Ken Ham, Al Mohler, William Dembski and other fellow Christians—all of whom I could easily imagine joining for a service project to Haiti, or communion in any local church. I would love to say that I have consistently responded to them with only the most gracious love but, given that another Christian virtue is honesty, I dare not put such an obvious falsehood in print. I, like them, am only too eager to leap into the fray and use whatever weapons I have at my disposal against my fellow Christians when I disagree with them. It would be nice to say that I do this because I am young and foolish and will eventually grow out of it. But, alas, my youth has long since departed without taking my foolishness with it.

Intramural quarreling among “family members” is often incredibly heated. In the most literal sense, we are more likely to get into heated arguments with our brothers and sisters, or spouses, than we are with our friends. And we are less likely still to get into heated arguments with people we barely know. Anyone who has heard pre-school siblings engaged in a border dispute about their respective “sides” in the back seat of a car understands that there is something innate about our need to protect our point of view—not matter how trivial—against those closest to us.

In a 1917 paper, Sigmund Freud coined a phrase now in common usage --“the narcissism of small differences" -- to describe our tendency to react so strongly -- with aggression, vitriol, even hatred -- to those that resemble us the most. In Freud's view, those with whom we have nothing in common cannot truly threaten us, for they are wholly "other." They can be rejected. They can even be destroyed in physical conflict for they are not us. In contrast to those we readily demonize as the “other” are those who share many but not all of our views. They can threaten us, precisely because they embody the possibility that we might be wrong. Baptist Christians argue far more aggressively with other evangelicals than they do, for example, with Moslems. Wesleyans argue with Calvinists, not Buddhists.

Christians in the conversation about origins are invested in their positions, of course, and rightly perceive that much is at stake for their faith. But there is much more that is not at stake for their faith. No belief about the actual teachings of Jesus is threatened, and certainly not his most important command that we should be known by our love. If that central Christian idea received the emphasis it deserves, perhaps the scientific ideas about origins would seem far less threatening.

In my teaching, I have the pleasure of engaging regularly with college-aged Christians. This rising generation of Christians approaches faith differently than previous generations and countless books are appearing trying to understand what is going on. The most consistent message these young people bring is that they are tired of intramural squabbling among fellow Christians. Almost none of these young people are enthusiastic about their own denominational traditions. They want to be known simply as “followers of Jesus.” They are far more concerned about the plight of Haitians than the age of the earth. They want to talk about social justice, not the parameters of biblical inspiration.

Last year at the BioLogos conference at Gordon College I had the pleasure of meeting one of the rising voices of this new generation of Christians, Rachel Held Evans. Her book Evolving in Monkey Town: How a Girl Who Knew All the Answers Learned to Ask the Questions reflects her frustrations as a young Christian growing up in Dayton, Tennessee (known as “Monkey Town” after the famous Scopes trial) and being taught everything about Christianity except the centrality of love and compassion. Like the students in my classes, Rachel is eager for Christians to put aside differences and celebrate what we share.

Francis and I were thus delighted when Rachel agreed to write the following blurb for our book. If you read between the lines you can see that she shares our vision for the purpose of The Language of Science and Faith—namely to bring Christians to the point where they can accept modern science and stop arguing over whether that science threatens their faith.

"For too long, followers of Jesus have been told they have to make a choice--between science and Christianity, reason and belief, their intellectual integrity and their faith. The Language of Science and Faith is a readable and comprehensive resource for the thoughtful Christian who refuses to choose. Giberson and Collins tackle difficult topics with charity, accessibility and integrity, moving the origins conversation forward in a way that honors God and builds up the church. This is a must-read for those who want to love the Lord with their heart, soul, mind and strength."