Despite this usage, most of us know that randomness has something to do with probability, and that it often implies a lack of conscious intentionality. But what do mathematicians and scientists mean when they say something is random? Can a random process lead to an ordered, even predictable outcome? Is there evidence that God makes use of random processes to fulfill his creative purposes?

These are big questions, and we won’t address them all today. But I think randomness is an important topic to cover for two reasons: 1) it is integral to many processes in biology (and math, physics, chemistry, etc.), and 2) it is commonly misunderstood to be incompatible with Christianity.

As I said above, most of us know that randomness has something to do with probability. If you pick a card “at random” from a shuffled deck, you have a small probability of drawing an ace (4 out of 52, or a 7.7% chance). If you flip a coin, you have an equal probability of getting heads or tails.

Randomness also seems to imply a lack of intentionality or purposefulness. After all, you might hope for an ace when you draw a card, but you can’t choose one on purpose. You might call heads when you flip a coin, but you can’t know beforehand what the outcome will be. Thus the outcome is indeterminate, but is it purposeless? Not necessarily. Indeterminacy simply means the result cannot be predicted from the outset.

It should be noted that indeterminacy does not imply that God does not have foreknowledge of future events. Christians ought not to be uncomfortable with the idea of God interacting with his creation through chance. We often describe a seemingly-random (i.e. unplanned by us) sequence of events as being “providential,” or planned by God.

In biology, it is very hard or impossible to calculate precise probabilities for most processes, so when we say a process is random, we typically mean it is extremely unpredictable. Eventually we will discuss randomness within biological evolution, but first we must consider some simpler processes, like the self-assembly of a virus.

Viruses are remarkably efficient entities. Coiled tightly within a protein-based shell is a small amount of DNA needed for self-replication. The shell, called a capsid, is made of many repeating protein subunits and is therefore highly symmetrical (see figure). Important biomedical insights have certainly been gleaned from structural studies of viruses, but viruses also teach us about the emergence of order from non-order.

The virus life cycle has four main steps: 1) enter a host cell, 2) hijack the cell’s replication and translation machinery to make many copies of itself, 3) assemble into many virus particles, and 4) exit the cell to invade another host.

When I first learned about this process, I found it very hard to believe it just “happens.” The idea that a bunch of molecules bumping into each other inside a crowded cell could spontaneously assembly into a fully-functional virus seemed a bit far-fetched. Many viral capsids have over 100 protein subunits that must interact with each other in just the right way, or it won’t work. Surely there must be something driving this process, right?

There is! Random motion. I had to see it to believe it. I distinctly remember sitting in class during my first year of graduate school when the professor demonstrated self-assembly of a virus using a 3D model as shown in the following video. In less than 30 seconds, you can watch a jumbled heap of proteins become a beautifully ordered structure.

As the narrator explains, sub-assemblies form and break apart en route to the most stable structure, the full capsid. As the sub-assemblies begin to form, further associations with free subunits become more favorable and as a result occur rapidly, while the final steps may take considerably longer. While the subunits in the model are rigid, in reality the proteins take on multiple conformations, allowing the capsid to “breathe.”

Amazing as it is, the system we just considered—one virus capsid in a jar—is pretty simple. One wonders how self-assembly can happen in a crowded cell, where there are countless other molecules diffusing around, potentially getting in the way. We can’t directly see how it happens in a cell, but we can reconstitute the process in a test tube using different combinations of constituent molecules.

Consider two viruses, where each protein subunit in one virus is the mirror image of the corresponding subunit in the other. Putting the two viruses together by hand would be pretty tricky, because the constituent parts look so similar. But random motion can do the job in short order:

From this model, we can see clearly, in real-time, how distinct complex structures can arise from their parts randomly interacting with one another. Many large viruses also use special scaffolding proteins to assist in the assembly process, and some even use their own genomes as a scaffold. In addition, two closely-related viruses that happen to infect the same cell can exchange parts to create a new virus. This is one way viruses can evolve quickly to evade the host’s immune system.

Here we have seen how viruses demonstrate a principle inherent in God’s world—that order can emerge out of chaos from random processes. In my next post, we will look at some other biological processes that make use of—rather, depend on—randomness. This will set the stage for us to see that such processes can not only assemble a structure within seconds or minutes, but also generate complex, information-bearing molecules over billions of years. Even though the freedom inherent in nature sometimes produces unintelligently-designed structures (like viruses, which can kill us), we see that God has made, and continues to oversee by his providence, a good creation that, at least in part, is capable of creating itself.

Next weekend, we’ll continue this series about randomness and God’s divine will. Up next: how God created the body to heal itself, and how can random mutations can be both harmful and benign.

“This is 2,300 year old wisdom from the Book of Ecclesiastes that seems to very concisely understand the water cycle. That water evaporates from the ocean, gets stored in the atmosphere via clouds, comes down as snow or rain, and when it comes down on the mountain it’s often stored there, as snow is gathered via groundwater, streams, and rivers, and then through the river, returns to the ocean, again. What a beautiful, complex, interdependent, wonderfully mysterious way of providing water, life to the land … But what does this beautiful system teach us, Father, Son and Holy Spirit, about who we are? What is your word, God, about this river, that runs through the center of where we live?”

In this sermon, Pastor Jon Van Sloten of New Hope Church in Calgary, Alberta, describes how he set out to learn where the water from the Bow River, near their home in the Rocky Mountains, actually comes from. He interviewed scientists who study hydrology and have learned a curious truth about how this particular river keeps a steady flow the full year round. This modulating geophysical “safeguard,” which allows the Rocky Mountains to hold water and let it out at a slow trickle rather than a deluge during the annual snowmelt, speaks to Van Sloten of God’s grace at work in the world—grace we can’t see with the naked eye, but is there all the same.

Suppose a man falls among thieves, or wild beasts; is shipwrecked at sea by a sudden gale; is killed by a falling house or tree. Suppose another man wandering through the desert finds help in his straits; having been tossed by the waves, reaches harbor; miraculously escapes death by a finger’s breadth. Carnal reason ascribes all such happenings, whether prosperous or adverse, to fortune. But anyone who has been taught by Christ’s lips that all the hairs if his head are numbered [Matt. 10:30] will look further afield for a cause, and will consider that all events are governed by God’s secret plan.

In this passage, Calvin presents belief in “fortune” as evidence of carnal reasoning, and statements like this one have contributed to a widely-held notion that modern scientific understandings of the role that randomness plays in nature is inconsistent with belief in divine providence. In other words, if “randomness” equals blind and capricious “fortune,” then how can God be said to be working all things to his ends?

But Calvin could not have known of the very different understanding of randomness held by today’s scholars. Physical scientists, mathematicians, and statisticians have not yet agreed on a single unambiguous definition of the term “randomness,” but among these scientists, the term consistently refers to a family of related concepts focusing on unpredictability of the outcomes of single events and the absence of pattern in sequences of outcomes. I like this statement by John Polkinghorne, “Chance doesn't mean meaningless randomness, but historical contingency. This happens rather than that, and that's the way that novelty, new things, come about.” In Polkinghorne’s view, chance is an agent of creativity and can be perceived as being purposeful.

In fact, there are abundant examples of phenomena in nature in which randomness plays a role one could understand as being purposeful. For example, osmosis is a marvelous mechanism that enables all 10 trillion cells in our bodies to be nourished – it depends on the random motion of molecules. The human immune system is able to defend the body against attacks from millions of different microorganisms using a relatively small number of building blocks and random combinations of these to fashion defenses specific to each adversary. We never take a breath and find it to be all nitrogen or carbon dioxide – random motion of molecules keeps oxygen close to uniformly distributed throughout the atmosphere.

In 2007, a British statistician, David Bartholomew published God, Chance, and Purpose in which he argues that God “can have it both ways”—that he can use low level randomness to accomplish divine purposes while simultaneously maintaining order at a higher level. Of course, we cannot prove that God ordained these random processes to achieve divine purposes in the world. But to a person of faith, such an interpretation in both consistent with the observations we make in science and with the Scriptural notion of God’s providential care for the world.

Considerations like these led the John Templeton Foundation to provide a generous grant of $1.69 million to support a new research initiative on the theme of Randomness and Divine providence. Beginning this past summer, the program has the purpose of providing support for solid theoretical exploration of the kinds of ideas and possibilities expressed above—involving theology, philosophy, natural science, mathematics, and statistics. The grant will support individual scholars and teams of scholars who are willing to devote a significant amount of time between March of 2013 and June of 2015 to such work, and the project’s request for proposals suggests the following as questions researchers might pursue:

• How might God work providentially through indeterminate processes? Can recent advances in understanding the nature of randomness offered by algorithmic information theory, physics, biology, and other sciences provide insight into this question?
• Can we bring clarity to the concept of "randomness"? Philosophers and scientists have tried on occasion to give precise definitions of when a process is random, but more work needs to be done on the question. How do (or should) conceptions of randomness vary across academic disciplines?
• What are some possible implications of randomness for hiding or unfolding divine creativity and purpose in the world? Could God use randomness to (1) generate creativity, (2) hide divine actions, or (3) unfold information? Why might God do so?
• How might we identify and come to understand a significant collection of nondeterministic processes in which agents could intentionally employ randomness to bring about purposeful results?
• How might we mathematically and physically model random processes in ways that help us understand how divine providence could be exercised in a "chance-governed" world?
• How do "laws and orders" in nature interplay with "chance and randomness" in bringing about results that can be interpreted as aspects of divine providence?
• Might randomness be evidence of limitations in human knowledge but nothing more? Or might it be evidence of ontological indeterminism? Might this be tested?
• What implications does randomness have for aspects of God’s relationship with the physical world such as God’s relationship to time and God’s role in causation? How might randomness be reconciled with God’s foreknowledge?
• How might an understanding of providence based on an extended Molinism and/or open theology incorporate randomness? For example, could an extended Molinism provide a plausible account of the relationship between quantum mechanics and divine providence?
• What are some theodical implications of randomness, particularly for the issue of natural evil?
• How have the theological traditions of Augustine, Maimonides, Aquinas, Luther, and Calvin addressed chance and fortune? In what ways might they incorporate ontological randomness?
• How do or could religions other than the Judeo/Christian tradition understand and incorporate randomness?
• How is the concept of randomness understood by advocates of secularism, naturalism, and new atheism? What are the strengths and weaknesses of these usages?
• How might an understanding of randomness in the world alter our conceptions of divinity, especially our understanding of divine providence?

Despite the range of issues mentioned above, research is by no means restricted only to these topics. In fact, the structure of the program is designed to foster collaboration and build community between scholars, with the end of expanding the range and integration of their work: two conferences will be held to bring scholars together with each other and then with members of the public—one at Calvin College in 2013 and the other at Fuller Theological Seminary in 2015. To get more information and to learn how to submit a proposal, see the project website; then join us in exploring the truth that all creation glorifies God—even randomness!

In my previous essay, I discussed “Darwin’s finches” and how surprisingly little Charles Darwin himself had to say about them. In fact, it was actually the British ornithologist David Lack (1910-1973) who conducted the critical research that immortalized the finches in biology textbooks and popular lore. In 1973, the eminent German zoologist Ernst Mayr wrote:

Already well known among professional ornithologists, his work on the Galapagos finches gave David Lack world fame… There is no modern textbook of zoology, evolution or ecology which does not include an account of his work.¹

Ernst W. Mayr

Decades have passed since Mayr wrote these words, and David Lack’s name has largely faded from public discourse. On the other hand, the Galapagos finches have become one of the most recognized symbols of evolution in the world today. Does it really matter whether Lack or Darwin gets credit for describing the evolution of these remarkable birds?

Insofar as evolutionary theory contrasted with religious belief, it makes a big difference. In a culture that is eager to equate evolution with atheism, it should come as no surprise that these birds are only known as “Darwin’s finches”. Darwin’s personal struggles and ultimate rejection of Christianity are well documented, and people are eager to link his loss of faith to his evolutionary theory. David Lack, on the other hand, began his scientific career as an agnostic, but shortly after publishing his famous book on the evolution of Galápagos finches, he converted to Christianity! ²

A Christian at the forefront of evolutionary biology

Lack’s Christian conversion did not mark the end of his scientific achievements, either. In fact, he continued as a prolific researcher until just weeks before he died. Among his many achievements, he was Director of the Edward Grey Institute of Field Ornithology (1945-1973), Fellow of the Royal Society, and President of both the International Ornithological Congress (1962-66) and the British Ecological Society (1964-65). His fellow scientists held him in great esteem:

He was described as one of the most outstanding among world ornithologists; he was certainly this, but he was also one of the world’s leading evolutionists. All the time one saw developing his use of birds as material for the study of wider, deeper, biological problems.³

David Lack at the International Ornithological Congress, 1962.

Clearly David Lack was an outstanding scientist, and his commitment to Christianity did not tarnish, hinder, or undermine his research on evolution. But we might also ask, what was Lack like as a Christian? Did he keep his faith hidden from view, afraid that it might compromise his reputation as a scientist? Ernst Mayr, who interacted with David Lack professionally and personally for nearly 40 years, had this to say:

I have known only few people with such deep moral convictions as David Lack. He applied very high standards to his own work and was not inclined to condone shoddiness, superficiality and lack of sincerity in others. This did not always go well with those who preferred to compromise in favour of temporary expediency. David had been raised in an environment in which great stress was layed on moral principles and this attitude was later reinforced by his Christian faith. This explains his extraordinary unselfishness and modesty, and his great devotion to his family, to his students, to his friends, and to all the things that he lived for. The equanimity, indeed serenity, with which he faced death after his terminal cancer had been diagnosed is further evidence of the strength which his faith gave him.⁴

Like Asa Gray⁵ before him, and Francis Collins⁶ after, David Lack was an sincere, devout Christian, as well as a leading scientist who employed evolutionary theory to make brilliant discoveries about the natural world. Though Lack did not see any conflict between his scientific and Christian beliefs, he was sympathetic to the concerns of his fellow Christians. Therefore, ten years after publishing his masterpiece on Darwin’s Finches, Lack wrote another book entitled Evolutionary Theory and Christian Belief: The Unresolved Conflict.

Originally published in 1957, this book deals with the very same science and faith questions that Christians struggle with today— topics like randomness and chance, death in nature, miracles, and evolutionary ethics. While it would be unreasonable to expect anyone to completely resolve these matters, Lack offered numerous insights both as a devout Christian and one of the world’s leading biologists.

Let’s take a brief look at how Lack addressed some of these questions.

Blind Chance or Divine Plan?

Evolutionary theory does not invoke supernatural forces in explaining the history of life on Earth; instead, it relies on naturally-occurring processes to account for the vast diversity of life. Additionally, it explains animal behavior largely in terms of survival and reproduction, without appealing to any higher purpose of life. Taken together, does this imply that God is absent, and that our lives are ultimately meaningless?

David Lack responded,

Behind the criticism that Darwinism means that evolution is either random or rigidly determined lies the fear that evolution proceeds blindly, and not in accordance with a divine plan. This is another problem that really lies outside the terms of reference of biology. It is true that biologists have inferred that, because evolution occurs by natural selection, there is no divine plan; but they are being as illogical as those theologians whom they rightly criticize for inferring that, because there is a divine plan, evolution cannot be the result of natural selection.⁷

When rendering judgment on the ultimate meaning of life, biologists are speaking from their person beliefs, not from scientific authority. Moreover, Lack pointed out that many science enthusiasts have employed the concept of “randomness” in ambiguous and misleading ways:

Mutations are random in relation to the needs of the animal, but natural selection is not. Selection, as the word implies, is the reverse of chance.⁸

In support of his view, Lack pointed out that convergent evolution has produced uncanny resemblances between distantly-related species across the world, notably among marsupials in Australia. Different evolutionary trajectories can lead to very similar results.⁹

Death in Nature

After addressing concerns about the seeming “randomness” of evolution, Lack turned to another great concern, the role of death in natural selection:

Various writers–some Christian and others agnostic–have been troubled about natural selection not only because it seems too random, but also because it is so unpleasant.¹⁰

Image courtesy John Marsh Photography via Flikr

Genetic mutations are generally harmful, and for evolution by natural selection to produce new forms of life, an awful lot of organisms must die. For many Christians, it is inconceivable that a loving and merciful God would allow death on such a vast scale.

But Lack also pointed out that rejecting evolutionary theory doesn’t actually get rid of the problem of death. Regardless of what we think about evolution, the brute fact of mass extinction remains. Fossils of innumerable animals, plants, and microorganisms clearly demonstrate that the vast majority of species that have ever lived are now dead. It may be quite troubling for us to observe that our planet is a giant graveyard of natural history, but rejecting evolution will not change this fact.

Some Christians conclude that death could not have been part of the divine plan; instead, it must be the work of the devil, or the result of human sin. But this interpretation contains an implicit assumption that death is always evil. Is this really true? David Lack offered two intriguing insights:

Blue-cheeked Bee-eater (Merops persicus) pair in
courtship, seen in Basai, Gurgaon, India.
Image courtesy Koshy Koshy.

1. For a population to maintain a stable size, all births must be balanced by a corresponding number of deaths. A world in which no animals die is a world in which no animals are born. That means no reproduction, no courtship, and by implication, no singing birds—much to the dismay of ornithologists and people in love!

2. Some people, taking cues from Isaiah 11:6-7, suppose that in a perfect world, animals only eat plants. But in fact, plants themselves depend on the bacterial decay of dead organisms. If animals didn't die, then essential nutrients would disappear from the ground, and plants could not continue to grow. Eventually, there would be nothing left for animals to eat, and all life would cease.¹¹

Miracles

Many Christians are uncomfortable with evolutionary theory because it denies a miraculous, supernatural origin of life. They fear that if those miracles are denied, it might lead people to reject the possibility of miracles altogether, including the central feature of the Christian faith—the resurrection of Jesus from the dead.

As a devout Christian, David Lack certainly affirmed the fundamental tenets of the gospel. But at the same time, he explained to his readers that invoking miracles to account for unusual features of the natural world is not particularly helpful when trying to deepen our understanding of God’s great multitude of creatures:

[The biologist's] research depends on repeated observations. It need not, as popularly supposed, consist solely, or even mainly of measurements and experiments, but unless events are repeated, they cannot be assessed by science. Hence truly unique events come outside the domain of science, though biologists are not usually convinced when told they must, therefore, leave such problems as miracles to others. For one of the chief ways in which research has advanced is through the discovery of apparent exceptions to the known rules, and if further study shows the exceptions to be replicable, new regularities are revealed from which modified rules can be propounded. This method has been so successful that the biologist tends to doubt whether there are any types of irregularity, or seeming irregularity, that will not yield to it.¹²

But just because a scientist cannot repeat a particular event doesn’t mean it didn’t happen. Both natural history and human history contain unique events that only happened once. As we peer into the past, the difficulty of discerning fact from fiction inspires us to further investigate the mysteries that surround us.

Conclusion

David Lack’s book Evolutionary Theory and Christian Belief was quite insightful, but his enduring achievements took place in evolutionary biology, a place where many Christians are afraid to tread. While it is significant that he himself found no contradiction between his faith and his science, perhaps the greatest testament to the compatibility between Christian faith and evolution is the life he led as a believer in both. As we saw in Ernst Mayr’s candid praise, Lack reflected the light of Christ through both his personal and his professional relationships.

Today, many voices in our culture still insist that evolution is incompatible with a sincere faith in Jesus, but a careful look at history demonstrates otherwise. In the future, perhaps more people of faith will have confidence to study biology knowing that one of the most iconic symbols of evolution—the Galapagos finches—owe their fame in large part to a devout Christian named David Lack.

Notes

1. Mayr (1973) “David L. Lack.” Ibis: 433.
2. Larson, E. J. Evolution's Workshop: God and Science on the Galapagos Islands. New York, Basic Books, 2001: 218. See also Lack, David. (1973) “My life as an amateur ornithologist.” Ibis: 431.
3. Alister C. Hardy (1973). "David L. Lack." Ibis: 436.
4. Mayr (1973) “David L. Lack.” Ibis: 433.
5. For more about Asa Gray, see the BioLogos FAQ “How have Christians responded to Darwin’s Origin of Species?”
6. See Francis Collins’ autobiography The Language of God: A Scientist Presents Evidence for his Belief (New York: Free Press, 2007) (book info)
7. Lack, David. Evolutionary Theory and Christian Belief: The Unresolved Conflict. Methuen & Co., 1957: 67.
8. Lack, p65.
9. For more on convergent evolution and the possibility that evolution could be compatible with some form of divine purpose, see the work of Simon Conway Morris, especially The Deep Structure of Biology: Is Convergence Sufficiently Ubiquitous to Give a Directional Signal? Templeton Press, 2008.
10. Lack, p72.
11. Lack, pp75-76.
12. Lack, p82.

For more, be sure to read Randall Pruim's recent series Randomness and God’s Governance, Kathryn Applegate's post That's Random: A Look at Viral Self-Assembly, and our FAQ How Do Randomness and Chance Align with Belief in God's Sovereignty and Purpose?.

Author's Note

I am so thankful that I grew up in a Christian environment, which both kindled and nurtured my relationship with Jesus Christ. The Biblical instruction I received from my parents, pastors, and teachers has been invaluable as I walk out my love for the Lord from day to day. However, there was one specific topic growing up which was not fully addressed, namely evolutionary theory.

Coming from a conservative Christian background, evolution was given little or no thought because of its seeming contradiction to the creation story in Genesis. To me, evolution meant a monkey became a human, and as far as I knew, I had never seen that happen! So, of course, it appeared too improbable to hold any truth. When it was discussed, an inadequate picture of its ideas was often painted, which caused immediate suspicion and rejection of the theory. I don’t think this was intentional, but most Christians have never learned an unbiased, in-depth theory of evolution that is completely detached from societal agendas and philosophical conclusions. Therefore, their explanations of the theory are often misinformed.

My senior year of high school, I took AP Biology, and finally learned the scientific reasoning supporting this theory. I was surprised by how logical and obvious the mechanisms of change (such as mutations, natural selection, genetic drift, and so on) were that gave rise to new species. My subsequent response was, “No wonder people believe evolution occurred.” At that point, I was convinced that microevolution (evolution within a species) existed, but I was still questioning macroevolution.

Now, being at Point Loma Nazarene University as an undergrad in the Biology-Chemistry major and a year-round, student intern at BioLogos, my understanding of evolution has expanded enormously. I have enjoyed critically thinking through the evidence for evolution and reading articles that tackle difficult issues at the interface of science and Christian faith. Ultimately, I know that God has created all things, but the processes he used surpass my small understanding.

My personal wrestling with evolution and quest for truth has led to times of prayer and studying God’s Word, which has deepened my love for him in ways I cannot express. The first chapters of Genesis, in particular, have come alive. My whole life, the creation story was a straightforward list of facts about the creation of the world; I never searched further. I didn’t even perceive the truths Genesis declared over my very identity and God’s character. The more I study his Word and handiwork, I glimpse the awesomeness and majesty of the Creator, who loves me much more than I know. There is still so much to learn, but I am confident that he will lead me into all truth as I seek him out.

I desire to give others the opportunity to see evolution accurately and to distinguish it from the traditional, philosophical, and personal conclusions that too often cloud the scientific theory. I believe these conclusions alienate Christians from evolution more than the scientific theory itself. Ultimately, I do not mean to convince someone about evolution, but simply to give them the freedom to understand it.

Therefore, my goal for this podcast is two-fold:

• First, to offer a new perspective on randomness within natural processes that removes its negative connotations (especially as it relates to evolution).
• Second, to expose why evolution is powerless to support conclusions beyond the physical realm.

This will hopefully encourage others to study evolutionary theory and draw their own conclusions about its meaning in the framework of their faith.

In part 1 of his sermon “Over and Above Naturalism”, Joseph Barkley explained that science does not reveal the greater purpose to life. He also looked at Naturalism, a philosophy that depends on atheistic assumptions and scientific knowledge, stripping the material world of higher significance. In part 2, Barkley suggests that material creation is not the end of our understanding (as Naturalists think), but a beginning that unveils the majestic and power of a Creator who loves us. Exploring the grand dimensions of the Milky Way galaxy as well as our unique solar system, he points to the greatness of God and smallness of humanity. However, the most profound truth is God’s incomprehensible love for each person that leads us into a divine relationship with him.

Barkley first suggests that all scientific discoveries, rather than confirming the absence of a God and divine purpose, affirm the presence of an intelligent God with a plan for his creation. Each new fact about nature is just another “clue,” he says, to God’s splendor. This is clearly taught in Psalm 19: 1-2 (NIV): “The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of his hands. Day after day they pour forth speech; night after night they reveal knowledge.” Though some argue that Bible does not accurately describe the natural world, Barkley affirms the infallibility of Scripture in revealing truth about God and the purpose of his creation.

Barkley demonstrates his point by recounting stunning details about the Milky Way, just one of billions of beautiful galaxies. Within it, stars are birthed and others die, planets are pulled toward stars with great gravitational force, and other celestial bodies are also always in motion. He focuses on the mind-blowing detail of the galaxy’s length, which is so vast that it requires the measurement to be in light years. It is 100,000 light years wide, and each light year represents 5.88 trillion miles. What is more, the Milky Way is only a middle-sized galaxy! God rightly declares through the prophet Isaiah, “‘So—who is like me? Who holds a candle to me?’ says The Holy One. Look at the night skies: Who do you think made all this?” (Isaiah 40:25, The Message translation). As Barkley puts it, “that is the question the creation is presenting to us today—who could have possibly made all this?”

Not only does creation reveal God’s grandeur, but it also speaks of how “unimaginably small” we are in comparison. In fact, when the Voyager space probe produced sixty separate pictures to capture our solar system from 4 billion miles away, planet Earth appeared as “a little mote of dust suspended in a sunbeam,” (Figure 1) according to Carl Sagan. If our entire planet—holding the entirety of human life—appears as a speck of dust, then how much more inconsequential does humankind itself appear? This comparison helps to “right-size” humanity in relationship to God. We are infinitely small and God is endlessly vast, and yet he deeply loves us in the midst of our weakness.

Finally, creation stirs the human heart with longing to know the “who” behind the “what” in this world. For thousands of years, God revealed himself to Israel through the Law and the prophets, but when God decided to present the clearest, most perfect picture of himelf, he sent his beloved Son, Jesus Christ (Figure 2). Colossians 1: 15-17 confirms this truth of Jesus Christ: “He is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn of all creation. For by Him all things were created, both in the heavens and on earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or dominions or rulers or authorities— all things have been created through Him and for Him. He is before all things, and in Him all things hold together.” With this, Barkley addresses the question of greater significance. A scientific mindset might lead us to search for worth in our function, but Barkley says this is a mistake. In reality, he says, we were created not just for a function, but for a person. That person is Jesus Christ, the perfect image of the Triune God. Ultimately, Barkley affirms that one could fathom all scientific knowledge and still not discover his or her own purpose, which flows only from a relationship with God through Jesus Christ.

Many of the games I enjoyed playing involve a combination of strategy and randomness: card games of various sorts, backgammon, and board games like Monopoly and Parcheesi. Some games that rely exclusively on chance (like War and Candy Land) or too heavily on chance (like Sorry) quickly became uninteresting to me. In fact, for Sorry, War, and several other games, I introduced additional rules to change the balance of strategy and luck—for example, by allowing each player to hold a hand of cards rather than merely flip a card and follow its bidding.

When my children were young, I played many games with them, especially those involving some amount of chance. I always play to win, so games of pure strategy like chess gave me too great an advantage—at least when they were still young. I still remember the first time I played the German game Mitternachtspartie with my children and some of their cousins. The game uses a die on which the number 5 has been replaced with the image of Hugo the ghost. Each player rolls the die and moves one of his figures the specified number of squares, unless Hugo is rolled, in which case Hugo moves instead.

I quickly worked out the expected distance Hugo would move for each of my turns and the expected number of squares I would get to move my own figures each turn. Using that information, I could strategically place my figures in the opening portion of the game. I fully expected to win this first game, since my young children were going to have to learn from experience what I already knew by the mathematics of probability. I lost—badly. As it turned out, the die had two Hugos on it. So compared to my expectations, Hugo moved twice as often, and my figures moved slightly less far. That combination turned the carefully calculated positioning of my figures into a disaster.

From Fun and Games to Science

I still enjoy playing games, including games that involve chance. But these days I encounter randomness even more often in my profession. I was trained as a mathematician and now work at the intersection of mathematics, statistics, and computer science. Like many scientists, I use randomness on a daily basis as part of our toolkit for modeling and investigating all sorts of phenomena. Models known as stochastic models, which explicitly incorporate random components, often via simulation in computer software, are used to model everything from diffusion to genetics to quantum mechanics. Insurance companies and financial institutions use stochastic models to manage risk. If we include all the applications of statistics, then almost no area of science is untouched by the use of randomness.

Most of the time, scientists and game players alike don’t devote much thought to just what makes randomness tick. But they both know that the better they understand the probabilities, the more successful they are. Nevertheless, if you ask many of them what it means for something to be random, they may struggle to put it into words. I won’t try to give a precise definition either, but it is important that we have some idea what we are talking about, so let’s consider one of the prototypical examples of randomness: the tossing of a fair coin.

If I flip a coin, the result could be heads or tails. Until I flip the coin, I don’t know which it will be. In this sense, the coin toss is unpredictable. If the coin is fair, each result is equally likely, so while I cannot say in advance whether a particular result will be heads or tails, I can say something about a large number of flips: approximately half should be heads and the other half tails.

A little mathematics even allows me to determine a range around 50% in which the percentage will almost surely lie. For example, if I flip a fair coin 1,000 times, the percentage of heads will most likely be between 45% and 55% (where “most likely” means a 99% chance). If the percentage of heads lies outside this range—especially if it is quite far outside this range—I am going to be suspicious that the coin flipping process is not fair. That’s one of the key ideas in statistics: not only can we calculate the frequency with which an event occurs, but we can compare data to a stochastic model to see if they are compatible or incompatible.

There are several interesting things we can learn by considering a coin toss. First, probability calculations rely on assumptions. If the assumptions are incorrect, then the probability calculations will also be incorrect. For example, if the coin is biased (such as one that is heads 60% of the time), but we assume it is fair, then the probability calculations given above will be wrong. Of course, if the assumptions are not too far from correct, the results may still be sufficiently accurate for scientific conclusions. If we have an appropriate way to collect data, then we can test our assumptions by comparing data to projections made based on the assumptions.

Second, “random” does not imply “equally likely.” A fair coin should have equal probabilities of heads or tails, but a biased coin is no less random. It’s just different. It is not as simple to handle arithmetically as a situation in which all outcomes are equally likely, but it is not otherwise special. It is a common mistake to assume random events are equally likely when they are not (or when that assumption is not justified).

Third, randomness is about the process. It is a fun experiment to flip a penny 100 times, then spin a penny 100 times and record the side that is showing when it finally tips over, then to stand the penny on end (this takes a steady hand and a little practice) and record which side is showing after pounding the table. These are three different processes, and they do not yield the same results.

Fourth, random processes produce patterns. I sometimes ask my students to mentally flip a coin and record the results as a sequence of letters (e.g., “HTTHHTHT”). Then I have them actually flip a coin and record the results. If the sequences are long enough, I can almost always tell them which is which. The sequences imagined by the students tend to have too few runs of consecutive heads or tails. The sequences based on real coin flips usually include several heads in a row. People not familiar with randomness are often surprised at the patterns that result and assume that the process must not have been random when they perceive a pattern. Our eyes and minds are drawn to similarities and patterns—even those that are produced purely randomly. This can lead us to draw false conclusions from coincidences of all sorts.

Consider the image in Figure 1. It was constructed using a computer to randomly throw 300 darts at a square board. Every position on the board was equally likely to be hit by a dart. This does not, however, mean that the dots are evenly spaced. There are 100 smaller squares. The average is three dots per square. But your eye is likely drawn to some clusters and voids. My eye also catches a graceful downward swoop in the lower part of the upper left quarter. All of this is exactly what we should expect from this random process. If we repeated this experiment, we should expect similar results. Several of the smaller squares would be empty and some others would have two or three times the average number of dots, but these clusters and voids would appear in different places.

Finally, randomness can be used to produce patterns intentionally. Consider the two pictures in Figure 2. You may think the two pictures are identical, but they are not. However, they were each constructed using the same random process:

1. Start at the lower left corner of the big triangle.
2. Randomly choose one of the three corners of the big triangle.
3. Move half way to that corner, placing a dot at the new location.
4. Repeat steps 2 and 3, 50,000 times.

The first few steps of this process for each image are illustrated in Figure 3. Although the final images look very similar, the route taken to get there is very different. In fact, the only point the two images have in common is the starting point. As the creator of the program that generated these images, I knew full well that the result would resemble a fractal image known to mathematicians as Sierpinski’s Triangle, even though I did not know or exercise any control over how the individual points would be selected.

Despite our familiarity with children’s games and the importance of stochastic models throughout the sciences, many Christians have a reaction to randomness that falls somewhere between uneasy and antagonistic. And yet, those same Christians may well watch the evening news to learn about public opinion polls forecasting upcoming elections, take prescription drugs approved by the FDA based on statistics found in clinical trials, obtain electrical power from a nuclear power plant that uses random fission reactions, and insure their cars with companies that rely on stochastic models to set the rates. The foundation of each of these activities is a thorough understanding of randomness that begins with the simple description above.

So where does the uneasiness come from? Likely it comes from the feeling that taking randomness seriously means not taking God seriously. Or put more strongly, it comes from a fear that believing in randomness means not believing in God. Next week we’ll address that problem by asking the question, “Could God use randomness to achieve his purposes?”

The full sermon can be downloaded from Ecclesia Church's website.

Pastor Joseph Barkley of Ecclesia Church extols the greatness of the God who has brought forth incredible works and engaged humankind in relationship. In the first part of the sermon “Over and Above Naturalism,” Barkley admires the factual knowledge unlocked by science, and yet reminds the Church that those material descriptions fail to answer the question of ultimate significance. There are people who do not believe in the greater meaning of life or a higher being, but rather cling to scientific analysis as the sole source of understanding about the universe. Barkley explains the outcomes of such naturalism, and later (in part 2 of this sermon) suggests that material creation is not an end, but a beginning that speaks of its majestic and powerful Creator who loves us.

Barkley first highlights amazing facts about the human body to demonstrate God’s ingenuity. Human bones, for instance, are five times stronger than a piece of steel with the same density and length. He then focuses on a picture of DNA looking down its long axis from top to bottom. That image reveals order and beauty in an arrangement that looks strikingly similar to a stain-glass window. During a visit to Italy, Barkley surveyed such intricate stain-glass windows in cathedrals, as well as masterful art pieces in museums, and yet, to him, none compare to the incredible structures that were hidden deep within the human body long before we were able to discover them or their beauty.

This age of modern science has unveiled much about our world, answering some of the “biggest questions we have.” However, Barkley affirms (along with most good scientists) that science cannot answer all questions by itself. He offers a simple analogy articulated by writer John Lenox:

Aunt Matilda makes a beautiful cake. It is then sent to the laboratories of a nutrition scientist, a biochemist, a physicist and a mathematician. No doubt one will receive a report of its nutritional value, its composition of molecules, and the behavior of the molecules, but all scientific analysis will never reveal to the investigators why Aunt Matilda made the desert to begin with. She brought it into existence, and alone can answer why.

Just as these experts could not describe why the cake was made, so scientific knowledge does not reveal the point of existence—why there is something rather than nothing. This answer is not inherent within the created thing, but is dependent on its Creator. Therefore, if there is a why, there must also be a who. People have more recently asserted that there is neither why nor who. This is naturalism: the faith that there is no who which could generate significance (a why) beyond sensory observation.

This worldview requires the universe to be the product of countless undirected events with no intent behind them. Furthermore, it requires that humans have no purpose to their existence, and that death is their final end. Such ideas, says Barkley, logically affect people’s behavior: “If nothing happens when we die and there is no grand design and we are not accountable to an absolute morality (as many people tend to think more and more); if we are not ultimately responsible for those things, then what motivation, logically, what motivation do we have to self-sacrifice, to love, to be kind?”

Some posit the idea of a collective consciousness that leads humans to act for the survival of the human species on the earth. According to Barkley, this still implies there is something beyond the physical occurring; that we are not the purely material beings that naturalism declares. He then suggests that naturalism relies just as much on a faith in empirical science as a Christian relies on faith in a creator God. At the conclusion of his argument, Barkley plants a seed of wonder by asserting that all the great scientific discoveries are not just describing a purposeless world, but are rather hinting at the greatness of the One who formed it.

In the 1950s, Cage began using various methods of “casting lots” to determine how elements of his music would be chosen and arranged—principally the Chinese system of I Ching. His controversial program was to distance himself from his own creative process, and he explored many additional strategies to transform the role of “creator” into one of “observer.” Most famous of these was his musical composition, “4.33,” which consisted of a pianist sitting at the instrument doing nothing at all for four minutes and thirty-three seconds, while musician and audience listened to the ambient sounds of the concert hall. Yet contrary to that main thrust of Cage’s work, a description of the activities during the week-long residency at the Mountain Lake Workshop where the New River Watercolor Series were made suggests that choice, constraint, and intention were integral and inescapable tools in putting randomness to work for creative ends.

Here’s art historian and theorist Howard Risatti’s description of Cage’s plan of action for the New River Watercolors, from the website of artist Ray Kass, who runs the Mountain Lake program and was Cage’s collaborator for his work there:

Following upon [a previous (1983) Mountain Lake workshop] “painting experiment,” stones collected from the New River were sorted into three groups according to size, which were separately numbered; numerous and varied brushes were divided into two separately numbered groups; likewise, feathers to paint with, colors and washes, and papers were also divided and numbered. In this way, chance procedures using pages of random numbers that were now generated by a computer program could be used to determine the specific materials utilized for each painting (e.g., which painting instruments, what type of paper and which colors, how many washes, which stones to paint around, where to locate the stones on the paper).

While this list enumerates all the specific variables that Cage and his team submitted to chance, there was an incredible level of personal engagement with the materials: Cage didn’t just show us drawings of where the I Ching said the rocks ought to be, he (or his assistants) placed them on the paper and used them as guides to paint around. Large custom brushes were constructed to lay on washes of color, and even the paints were hand mixed, combined, and diluted according to his desires.

Cage’s use of chance, then, was not a “hands off” process, but neither was it a matter of total control: Cage selected processes to create a space of play between himself and the materials he used: the feather between himself and the paper, for instance, introduced variability of resistance and spring, its ability to hold paint, the width of the line. All of these things were elements of material ‘freedom,’ areas in which Cage asked the stuff he used to make the paintings to take part in the process—to contribute its own identity to the intentional, purposeful, and determined work of creating “based on chance.” This should not be surprising, as all art, all creation that we can observe, happens as a dialectic between materials and the creator, and such engagement and interaction in no way lessons the purpose of making, the end in sight.

Kass’ book The Sight of Silence: John Cage’s Complete Watercolors, gives a much more complete account of the tools, processes, and interpersonal reactions between Cage, Kass, and the team of student assistants who helped at almost every stage of the creation of the works. The book goes to great length to honor Cage’s ideal of being present in but not controlling the outcomes (not least by nearly always putting words like “choice” in quotation marks), but the description of his process makes the centrality of Cage’s personal aesthetic and artistic motives inescapable, even more than his physical engagement. What comes through perhaps even more than the way Cage intended to allow chance to ‘guide the creative process’ is that way Cage, himself, not only set the parameters of the chance he allowed into the system, not only engaged directly with the materials during the process, but also exercised judgment over the results, both in process and at the end:

“Cage decided he didn’t want the images of the stones to overlap or go off the sides of the paper. To guarantee this restriction, he created conditions and rules to limit their possible placements.” (p. 51)

“For this single painting [Series IV, #1, pictured above] Cage chose to confine the images of the rocks to a lower area of the paper that represented the proportion of the “golden rectangle. . .” (p. 57)

“While “choice” established much of the work’s nature, “chance” highlighted the intrinsic nature of the materials to reveal a refreshing presence.” (p. 59)

“[H]e initially decided to remove [the first painting of Series III] from the group, and then, liking it more, changed his mind and returned it to the group that would be signed.” (p. 56)

This last note is particularly interesting in that it highlights the fact that Cage was claiming these paintings, naming himself as their author, and was attentive to which ones he approved of enough to call his own. There is no way around the fact that Cage was subjectively as well as objectively the maker of these works: the author of the procedures by which they came to be, but well as the judge (and sometimes redeemer) of the results. For Cage, randomness was a tool, no different than the brushes or rocks or paints is that its specific parameters were chosen at the outset, and always used within the context of his over-arching vision. Perhaps we may likewise think of God’s use of chance—constrained by and tuned to the material conditions he established at the birth of the cosmos—as a way to both engage with and allow freedom for the creation itself.

With any work of art it is reasonable to ask, “Is it beautiful?” or more tellingly, “Would I hang this on my wall?” Seeing Cage’s watercolors for first time without any knowledge of the process or the relative fame of Cage himself, some might be intrigued by the structure of the work (the proportions of the golden rectangle, the overlapping stone shapes, the colors of the paint) while others would be completely uninterested, perhaps even after hearing about how they were made and seeing them in the context of the rest of the New River Watercolor series. But if you had been there in the shop as an assistant, or even observer, if you had been party to the relationships that developed even over the few days Cage spent at the Mountain Lake Workshop, your sense of the beauty of these paintings (and perhaps even scraps of paper Cage used to try out brushes or washes), would take on a different meaning, in much the way we treasure the crayon drawings of our children not because they are spectacular art, but because they are tokens of our relationship.

I make that observation to emphasize one other aspect of Cage’s creative process: that Cage was the instigator first and foremost of relationships of creation. His process created not only paintings but the fellowship that developed as the work was being done. That social, interpersonal dimension is what gives the objects a depth of meaning beyond their material composition, and suggests the particular roles humanity has been given by God. One role is to join into the creative process as lesser, but not unimportant co-creators with him; the other is to observe, recognize and celebrate his activity in the world. Where some will see randomness as evidence of an absent God, our knowledge of this most personal and participatory aspect of creation points us to the God who is with us.

With God’s creation as with human art, we may (or may not) marvel at any one particular “work,” or even think the specifics of how it was made are interesting or attractive; but knowledge of and fellowship with the artist transforms our appreciation of the process as well as its results. When we know the maker, we come to recognize and treasure even the most “random” bits of his handiwork, and name them as his, nonetheless.

For Further Reading:

Ray Kass. The Sight of Silence: John Cage’s Complete Watercolors, 2011.

Website for John Cage Centennial Festival, Washington, DC. September 2012.



]]> Sun, 13 May 12 12:53:04 -0700 Mark Sprinkle http://biologos.org/blog/fearful-symmetries?utm_source=RSS_Feed&utm_medium=RSS&utm_campaign=RSS_Syndication http://biologos.org/blog/fearful-symmetries?utm_source=RSS_Feed&utm_medium=RSS&utm_campaign=RSS_Syndication Perusing the writings of atheistic scientists and philosophers like Daniel Dennett, one could easily get the impression that arriving at a simpler explanation for something equates to a revelation that things are “lower, cruder, and more trivial.” In his essay Fearful Symmetries, published in the October 2010 issue of the journal First Things, physicist Stephen Barr offered a critique of the modern tendency to make the investigative strategy of reductionism into a “metaphysical prejudice.” It is a mistake, he says, to take the extraordinary success of the scientific practice of looking at things in smaller and simpler parts as proof that “the further we push toward a more basic understanding of things, the more we are immersed in meaningless, brutish bits of matter.”

Perusing the writings of atheistic scientists and philosophers like Daniel Dennett, one could easily get the impression that arriving at a simpler explanation for something equates to a revelation that things are “lower, cruder, and more trivial.” But at the heart of Barr’s critique is the observation that in fundamental physics and advanced mathematics, “simpler” does not mean more chaotic and inchoate, but rather more elegant and beautiful. Those who hold to a philosophical reductionism “overlook the hidden forces and principles” that govern the processes of cosmic evolution.

Barr’s article lays out the way that the work of scientists and mathematicians exploring the fundamental principles of physics (from Kepler to Einstein to those currently running the Large Hadron Collider in Switzerland) actually suggests “that order does not really emerge from chaos, as we might naively assume; it always emerges from greater and more impressive order already present at a deeper level.” This excerpt gives his first example, the starting point from which he guides us into strangely beautiful world of particle physics, and towards the discovery that “matter, although mindless itself, is the product of a Mind of infinite profundity and infinite simplicity.”

Fearful Symmetries

“Let’s start with a simple but instructive example of how order can appear to emerge spontaneously from mere chaos through the operation of natural forces. Imagine a large number of identical marbles rolling around randomly in a shoe box. If the box is tilted, all the marbles will roll down into a corner and arrange themselves into what is called the “hexagonal closest packing” pattern. (This is the same pattern one sees in oranges stacked on a fruit stand or in cells in a beehive.) This orderly structure emerges as the result of blind physical forces and mathematical laws. There is no hand arranging it. Physics requires the marbles to lower their gravitational potential energy as much as possible by squeezing down into the corner, which leads to the geometry of hexagonal packing.

At this point it seems as though order has indeed sprung from mere chaos. To see why this is wrong, however, consider a genuinely chaotic situation: a typical teenager’s bedroom. Imagine a huge jack tilting the bedroom so that everything in it slides into a corner. The result would not be an orderly pattern but instead a jumbled heap of lamps, furniture, books, clothing, and what have you.

Why the difference? Part of the answer is that, unlike the objects in the bedroom, the marbles in the box all have the same size and shape. But there’s more to it. Put a number of spoons of the same size and shape into a box and tilt it, and the result will be a jumbled heap. Marbles differ from spoons because their shape is spherical. When spoons tumble into a corner, they end up pointing every which way, but marbles don’t point every which way, because no matter which way a sphere is turned it looks exactly the same.

These two crucial features of the marbles—having the same shape and having a spherical shape—should be understood as principles of order that are already present in the supposedly chaotic situation before the box was tilted. In fact, the more we reduce to deeper explanations, the higher we go. This is because, in a sense that can be made mathematically precise, the preexisting order inherent in the marbles is greater than the order that emerges after the marbles arrange themselves. This requires some explanation.

Both the preexisting order and the order that emerges involve symmetry, a concept of central importance in modern physics, as we’ll see. Mathematicians and physicists have a peculiar way of thinking about symmetry: A symmetry is something that is done. For example, if one rotates a square by 90 degrees, it looks the same, so rotating by 90 degrees is said to be a symmetry of the square. So is rotating by 180 degrees, 270 degrees, or a full 360 degrees. A square thus has exactly four symmetries.

Not surprisingly, the hexagonal pattern the marbles form has six symmetries (rotating by any multiple of 60 degrees: 60, 120, 180, 240, 300, and 360 degrees). A sphere, on the other hand, has an infinite number of symmetries—doubly infinite, in fact, since rotating a sphere by any angle about any axis leaves it looking the same. And, what’s more, the symmetries of a sphere include all the symmetries of a hexagon.

If we think this way about symmetry, careful analysis shows that, when marbles arrange themselves into the hexagonal pattern, just six of the infinite number of symmetries in the shape of the marbles are ex-pressed or manifested in their final arrangement. The rest of the symmetries are said, in the jargon of physics, to be spontaneously broken. So, in the simple example of marbles in a tilted box, we can see that symmetry isn’t popping out of nowhere. It is being distilled out of a greater symmetry already present within the spherical shape of the marbles.”

In the full essay, Barr gives a richer description of how this most basic kind of symmetry is just one sort of order, and how even this form points to other much more complex kinds of symmetry whose properties may be described only through the tools of complex mathematics. As he says, “the symmetries that characterize the deepest laws of physics are mathematically richer and stranger than the ones we encounter in everyday life.” But even more important than the fact that such mathematical concepts exist and are beautiful, more important even than the way such esoteric mathematical symmetries have suggested imminently practical experimental projects, is the way they point to a universe that is anything but brutish and trivial, though its elegance may be hard to see:

“It is true that the cosmos was at one point a swirling mass of gas and dust out of which has come the extraordinary complexity of life as we experience it. Yet, at every moment in this process of development, a greater and more impressive order operates within—an order that did not develop but was there from the beginning. In the upper world, mind, thought, and ideas make their appearance as fruit on the topmost branches of an evolutionary tree. Below the surface, we see the taproots of reality, the fundamental laws of physics that shimmer with ideas of profound simplicity.”

This essay appears with the permission of First Things. To read Barr’s complete essay, please click here.

Today's sermon is from Richard Dahlstrom, senior pastor of Bethany Community Church in Seattle, Washington. The full sermon can be found here.

Is Genesis 1 describing material creation or functional creation? Pastor Richard Dahlstrom of Bethany Community Church beautifully articulates the insights he has received through John Walton’s book The Lost World of Genesis One and probes deep into the Biblical text with us . In his sermon “Gloriously Functional,” he highlights key Hebrew words that are often misunderstood by post-Enlightenment thinkers in order to generate a proper framework through which to grasp the original meaning of the text. He then examines each day of creation, explaining the function of the various created elements such as light, water, plants, animals, and people, according to the account. This enriching exercise brings the question of “Why has God made this very good, functional creation to begin with?” Dahlstrom affirms along with Walton that Genesis 1 is indeed about God making a temple to dwell in with His people, who he has ordained as priests, stewards over all creation. This is most clearly seen in the striking parallels between the creation narrative and the building of the earthly temple of God in the ancient Hebrew culture.

In addition to this clip from Dahlstrom’s sermon , there is a brief commentary by John Walton himself, which speaks about the functionality rather than materiality of Genesis 1. He states that the creation story is not one of material origins. If this is so, he explains there is no need to defend a Biblical account against an evolutionary account; the two are compatible with each other. What the creation story does offer, however, is a theology on the physical existence of what God has made; it reveals the divine purpose of God for his masterpiece, the universe.

Today's video is courtesy of filmmaker Ryan Pettey, director/editor of Satellite Pictures and features physicist Ard Louis.

In today's video, Oxford physicist Ard Louis discusses the famous debate between renowned evolutionary biologists Stephen Jay Gould and Simon Conway Morris. Gould believed (and wrote in his book Wonderful Life) that if the "tape" of evolution were rerun, the chance that anything like human intelligence would emerge is essentially zero. In other words, humanity is here through random accident. Gould pointed to the work of Morris and fellow scientists in their research of the Burgess Shale as evidence for this view.

However, Morris himself disagrees, pointing to what is called evolutionary convergence. As Morris notes, there are numerous examples of identical features evolving multiple times throughout the history of life independently. Morris believes that if the tape of life were replayed, we would see something like humans emerge. A Christian might say, it looks like we were planned.

Some Christians might find Simon Conway Morris' viewpoint, with its implicit teleology, more attractive. Others, perhaps motivated by a high view of providence, may find Gould's emphasis on contingency equally congenial to their faith. What do you think?

Today's sermon is from Richard Dahlstrom, senior pastor of Bethany Community Church in Seattle, Washington. The full sermon can be found here.

In this sermon, Pastor Richard Dahlstrom of Bethany Community Church in Seattle Washington disbands the warfare mentality surrounding science and faith as he explains that God’s truth is seen both in his written Word and his creation. Throughout, he provides clarification about proper Biblical interpretation, background on the history of science and scripture, and finally the context in which the Biblical creation story took form.

The beautiful creation story in Genesis one and two captivates the heart and mind, providing revelation of God’s character and his divine relationship to all creation, especially humans. Although it is an ancient writing from a culture with limited knowledge of the world and its place in the cosmos, many Christians have used these passages to scientifically describe the birth of the universe. While the passages do reveal the origin of all created things—God—they do not necessarily reveal the natural mechanisms used by God to accomplish his will. This is where the work of the scientific community has come into play. Studying God’s handiwork always offers a deeper understanding of God himself, but the Church, unfortunately, has not always accepted its findings.

At the beginning, Dahlstrom opens with a challenging quote from the famous church father Saint Augustine. He believed that Christians should not be found ignorant on scientific matters, and so appear darkened in understanding to the outside pagan world. The pastor too affirms that Christians should not use God’s Word to challenge scientific matters and so turn a non-believer away from faith in Jesus Christ since it unnecessarily draws a line between faith and reason, pitting one against the other. Dahlstrom explains that the idea that science and scripture conflict stems from a view of Genesis one and two as a scientific description. Talking about Biblical interpretation, he affirms that plain reading of the text is best in most cases. Still, there are instances where the Bible speaks in metaphors. For example, in the gospel according to John, Jesus identifies himself as the door. Immediately one discerns that Jesus is not describing himself as a literal door made of wood, but rather is describing himself as the only Way to God the Father. When it comes to the creation story, then, is a literal or metaphorical reading the best method of interpretation for the passages? In light of certain details that appear physically contradictory—such as morning and evening existing before the creation of the sun on the fourth “day” although the earth’s rotation around the sun creates day and night— it seems logical that Genesis is portraying something other than the physical processes of creation.

As Dahlstrom continues, he makes a profound point: in Genesis two, God calls humankind to know and study the surrounding world. The scriptures say that Adam took on the God-given task of naming the animals, which is, in fact, science: the exploration of the natural world. It is a wonderful gift to men and women to study the surrounding world and so discover more about the God who is its Creator. Unfortunately, the Church has not always accepted the ideas formulated through scientific discovery. This was clearly seen in the Church’s rejection of a heliocentric or sun-centered solar system as postulated by both Copernicus and Galileo. The following five hundred years, however, softened this tension, and acceptance of a heliocentric system was welcomed. Currently, the issue among Christians revolves around young versus old earth creationism and instantaneous creation versus evolution. Indeed, there are Christians in both camps. Pastor Dahlstrom affirms here that it is possible to view God as the master Creator and sustainer while still accepting evolutionary theory. This perspective acknowledges that science is not man’s truth contradicting God’s truth; there is no distinction, but all truth belongs to our Lord.

The sermon goes on to place the creation narrative in the context of the story of Gods’ people. Dahlstrom explains that Israel is about to enter the Promised Land where they will be surrounded by pagan cultures with their own gods and circulating creation myths. It is in this time that Moses writes down the true account of creation as revealed by the God of Israel. The story of Yahweh creating the heavens and the earth clearly contrasts the other Mesopotamian versions at the time, and demonstrates the uniqueness of Israel’s God. The story in Genesis resonates with the deepest longing of the human heart, proclaiming that humans were made for beauty, stewardship of creation, and relationship rather than slavery, war and suffering. This displays and speaks of the love and goodness of the one true God.

In his concluding thoughts, Dahlstrom brings the discussion back around to three particular points. First, he identifies the idea that “God is other than his creation.” In other words, God brought the world into being, but he is the uncreated One, and therefore, different than all finite things. Next, there is the theme of separation in the creation account. For example, light is separated from darkness, the land from the sea, and animal life from human life. Although they consist of the same materials, there are different forms. This speaks to the profound unity in the midst of diversity established by God. Finally, it presents the nature of humanity. It speaks of our calling to steward the earth, our failure in fulfilling that calling, and the need for our redemption, which comes through Jesus Christ. All these themes ultimately unite us as believers despite the different interpretations of Genesis one and two.

Today's sermon is from Pastor Mark Swarner of Menlo Park Presbyterian Church in Menlo Park, CA. You can hear the full sermon here.

Of all the blessings to be thankful for on Thanksgiving Day, none of them surpasses the riches of the eternal blessings which the Lord has bestowed on his sons and daughters in Christ Jesus. Pastor Mark Swarner of Menlo Park Presbyterian emphasizes this point as he looks at Psalm 103: 1-4 (NIV):

“Praise the LORD, my soul;
all my inmost being, praise his holy name.
Praise the LORD, my soul,
and forget not all his benefits—
who forgives all your sins
and heals all your diseases,
who redeems your life from the pit
and crowns you with love and compassion…”

The benefits are “life-changing” and “soul transforming.” Unlike most where there are exclusions and various requirements, these are freely given through Christ, and no one is disqualified based on pre-existing conditions. In fact, God desires that people come to him in all their imperfections that he might renew and heal them.

The first benefit deals with the major problem of the human heart: sin. In the Psalm, King David, who knew what it meant to be forgiven for deeply wrongful acts, boldly speaks of the love which God has for his people such that God does not deal with us according to our past actions. Rather, “as far as the east is from the west, so far has he removed our transgressions from us.” Regardless of a person’s past or future mistakes, God’s love is stronger still. We are, above all, forgiven people and with that "we enter his gates with Thanksgiving in our hearts.”

In his second point, Swarner examines the power of God available for healing. The verse is not claiming that one will never become sick, but it does indicate that God has the power to heal. The all-important assurance in this passage is that God will take our brokenness and weakness, and through him, ultimately, we will be whole. We are, above all, a people filled with hope, and with that "we enter his gates with Thanksgiving in our hearts and we come into his courts with praise.”

The third benefit the Psalmist declares is that the Lord “redeems your life from the pit and crowns you with love and compassion.” There is a sense in which we all—like Joseph in Genesis 37—have experienced life’s pit of despair. We, like Joseph, emerge from the pit to a new life crowned with the confidence that we are loved, and with that we, ourselves, become agents of God’s love and channels for God’s compassion. We are, above all, a people redeemed by love, and with that "we enter his gates with Thanksgiving in our hearts and we come into his courts with praise.....This is the day that the Lord has made and we will rejoice for He has made us glad.¹”

1. See Psalm 100:4 and 118:24:

Though some may believe that moving the science/faith dialogue forward is best left to scientists, scholars, and theologians, we at BioLogos recognize that our pastors play an invaluable role in the conversation. Across the globe, pastors are helping their congregations work through difficult issues of science and faith with honesty, insight, and a gentle spirit. To this end we present an ongoing series recognizing sermons (and the pastors who give them) that are helping to promote the harmony of science and faith. Today's sermon comes from Rev. Tim Keller, pastor of Redeemer Presbyterian Church. Click above to hear an excerpt. Below, is a brief summary written by BioLogos editorial staff. The full sermon can be downloaded here.

In tracing the story of the Bible, Dr. Keller’s previous sermons examined the early chapters of Genesis, which relate the events that lead to humanity’s fall from right relationship with God. Currently, he is exploring God’s redemption of the human brokenness in Paul’s epistle to the Romans. This particular message focuses on chapter two where the Apostle Paul exposes the hypocrisy of Law-observing Jews: while they judged Gentiles by the standard of the Law, they themselves failed to fulfill its requirements. He also asserts that outward performance of the Law by no means exempts them from God’s judgment or from the disease of Sin, which entered the human heart at the Fall. Keller affirms, therefore, that all are in need of a “regenerate new heart” through Jesus Christ, who perfectly fulfilled the requirements of the Law and who alone is able to accomplish this transformation through the power of his cross.

Paul’s message first illuminates what Keller identifies as the failure of religion. The church in Rome no doubt consisted of both Gentiles and Jews. With this in mind, Paul speaks to both groups. Up to this point, Paul has been highlighting the idolatry of the Gentiles. He then reorients his focus in Romans 2 to address the Jews, who were likely to stand in judgment of their gentile brothers and sisters because of the Jewish Law. He declares in verse one, “You, therefore, have no excuse, you who pass judgment on someone else, for at whatever point you judge another, you are condemning yourself, because you who pass judgment do the same things.” Keller explains that this statement exposes the hypocrisy of the religious who look to observance of an outward behavioral code for justification rather than to grace through Jesus, which leads to an inward observance of the Law. For example, although Law observers did not bow before physical graven images as the Gentiles did before faith in Christ, idols occupied their hearts. These inner idols, for both the religious Jews and present Christians, could take the form of power, career, achievement, etc. All in all, Paul demonstrates that religion fails since neither the moral nor the immoral person is perfect by God’s standards. Dr. Keller sums up this point nicely with this statement: “I’m not okay, you’re not ok.” There is not one person who measures up to the standard of the Law of God, and not one person, therefore, has a right to pass judgment according to it.

Dr. Keller then discusses why no one can measure up to the terrible beauty of God’s Law “no matter how good” one’s actions may be. Primarily, it is because the standard is not focused on performing the right deeds. Rather, the major sins described by Paul in Romans 1 include greed, insolence, heartlessness, etc. Although actions accompany such characteristics, they begin as inner attitudes of the heart. Often people read God’s ordinances at the behavioral level, as the religious Jewish people did, in an attempt to justify themselves as a moral person, but God’s requirements are much more demanding. This is revealed in Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount, for example, when he examines the Ten Commandments. He says in Matthew 5: 21-22 (NIV), “You have heard that it was said to the people long ago, ‘You shall not murder, and anyone who murders will be subject to judgment.’ But I tell you that…anyone who says to a brother or sister, ‘Raca,’ is answerable to the court.” In using the Hebrew word ‘raca’ meaning ‘nobody,’ Jesus is revealing that the sin of murder is birthed from a heart that devalues another person who is infinitely valuable in God’s eyes. Simply put, the Law of God is after a certain type of person whose right actions flow from a right heart. For example, the Law points to a person so filled with God’s love that they not only refrain from murder, but rather treat others as royalty. Keller continues as he explains the impossibility of such a standard for a human being, yet the Law demands it. What is more, people will demand a similar standard of others. Keller also emphasizes the Day of Judgment. Because God is just, he will hold a person accountable to either the standard of grace or to the standard that one person required of another. No person is perfect, and therefore, none will be able to stand in either God’s judgment or the judgment of their own heart. This creates the need for a transformed heart as Dr. Keller expounds in the final point of this passage.

In the last verses of Romans 2, the Apostle Paul relates the “failure of religion because of the terrible beauty of the Law” to the need for a regenerate heart. This is only possible through the circumcision of the heart in Christ by the Holy Spirit. Keller first explains the significance of circumcision. Circumcision was a physical distinction between the pagan cultures and the Jewish people who were in covenant with the God of Israel. On a deeper level, this act symbolized the consequence of disobedience to the covenant first established between Abraham and God: one would be cut off from the covenantal relationship with God. As Dr. Keller explains, all people have fallen short of the Law. For this reason, God sent Jesus, his son, to fulfill the requirements of the Law. He then died on the cross to receive upon himself the consequence of death that all deserved. Therefore, Paul argues that it is no longer one who receives physical circumcision who is saved, but one who receives the circumcision of the Spirit in Christ. Romans 2:28 (NIV) establishes this point saying, “A person is not a Jew who is one only outwardly, nor is circumcision merely outward and physical. No, a person is a Jew who is one inwardly; and circumcision is circumcision of the heart, by the Spirit, not by the written code.” Finally, Dr. Keller explains the significance of the Old Testament Law: the perfect standard describes not a moral code, but our Savior Jesus Christ. Ultimately, one seeks to obey the beautiful Law which Jesus embodied, yet one receives grace in the times of failure, confident that Christ has indeed paid it all.

The early chapters of Genesis appear to pose scientific problems that challenge our literal, post-Enlightenment lens through which we often read the Word of God. (See this post for a commentary on how this situation came about.) This leads many people to believe that the descriptions in these texts are meant to reveal more than raw scientific fact. Pete Shaw of Crosswalk Community Church highlights the story of Noah and the Ark to explore the possible reasons for adopting a non-literal understanding of this ancient narrative. Shaw first summarizes the story of Upnashatim in the Epic of Gilgamesh, a famous Sumerian flood story that the young and old in Abraham’s day would have known well. Upon comparison, these two accounts—the Genesis flood and the Gilgamesh flood—are incredibly similar. Furthermore, Shaw exposes the various practical problems that arise if one takes every word of the Noah story to be a precise truth. For example, he wonders how Noah could have fed and maintained every living land creature in a small boat for ten months. He also explains how a primitive understanding of the universe is heavily reflected in this text. In light of these points, he concludes that whether or not this story is portraying actual historical events, it is presenting rich truths about God, and that should be the focus of the believer.

Transcript

“The first eleven chapters of Genesis are what scholars call pre-history. In other words, they can’t really date what was going on very well in those first elven chapters. After that, twelfth chapter on, it is a lot easier to date, and the stories have a different feel, a different structure… but those first eleven have caused a lot of debate over the years. In fact, the next slide is going to kind of give you the line of where I am going to take you today. You might not be aware of this, but there is a Noah controversy. You and I, when we hear the story of a great flood, the first thing that comes to our mind—when we think of the whopper of all whoppers—we think of Noah and the Ark, but if we lived in Abraham’s time or especially before, the name Noah probably would not have come up. In fact, if we grew up with Abraham, the story we would have most likely known about was the story—I am going to butcher this name—of Utnapishtim.

You are familiar with Utnapishtim aren’t you? And you are familiar with the god Enlil. I am sure you are familiar with Enlil. And you would have been very aware of a storybook that was read by children and adults alike called the Epic of Gilgamesh. And in the eleventh tablet of the Epic of Gilgamesh, we have the story of Utnapishtim and the god Enlil. And just so that you would know about that story a little bit, knowing that that would have been the predominant story that you would have understood anytime you thought about a flood, this is how the story went down. So, this god Enlil was the god of thunder and rain and all that and he was not a happy camper (kind of temperamental) as thunder gods can be. And for no clear reason, except to mess around with some of the other gods in his discontent, he made the decision that he was going to wipe out the earth with a great flood. And one of the other gods, a goddess in fact, did not like that this was going to happen and thought that it was unfair, unjust, and so she sent a message to Utnapishtim that this flood was going to come at the hand and the wrath of Enlil. And so Utnapishtim got to work, and he built a vessel (a strange vessel), a cube, but he used some of the similar materials that we saw in the Ark, and he made this massive structure (if in fact you do the math, it is probably at least twice, if not much larger, than the actual Ark) this massive cube that he made hoping that it would float, and he got it done on time.

The rain didn’t come down for forty days, it came down just for seven, but it flooded everything out, and the only survivor was Utnapishtim. And when Enlil came around and saw that some human beings had survived, he was very upset because he intended to wipe out everybody to show his wrath and his anger to the world and to show that he was upset to all the gods in heaven. Well, Utnapishtim obviously saved his own life, the life of his family, the life of his personal animals because those are the animals that he saved—not the rest of the animals of the world. And he took some carpenters along because he didn’t know how to build stuff and once you are starting over you have got to build stuff, and so he brought some carpenters along. In honor of his faithfulness (in light of this word from the goddess) he was given divinity. And so, he became a god, he became one of the gods, he got to reside in heaven, if you will, because of his faithfulness…interesting story.

If you grew up in Sumer, which is present day Iraq, and you grew up with Abraham in what is present day Baghdad that would have been the story that you would have known very, very well. It is because that story exists and other cultures have their own flood stories as well that some scholars look at the story of Noah and the Ark, and they think, ‘well, gee, how should we really interpret this thing? You know, our Enlightenment and post-Enlightenment perspective says it is in black and white, and if it says that is what happened, then that is exactly what happened. There is no way around it.’ Well, what if the first people who shared this story with each other and what if the early writers of this word, what if when they approached the Bible, they didn’t approach it the way we do? What if they didn’t approach the Bible, the Word of God, as a literal, this is exactly how it happened book that our post- Enlightenment eyes are framed to do? How would that change us? And also, some of the things that some of the challengers of this story are bringing out are some of the issues with the story like ok is this really a big enough boat to handle all of the creatures of creation…can they really, really fit?

Some have really tried to make a case that there weren’t as many animals back then as there are now because they got together and hooked up, and now, we have all kinds of varieties and that kind of thing. And so that is kind of there, but you are talking ten months of time! How do you feed all the animals of the world? How do you store all the food? Did they eat fish, because the fish didn’t die? The fish lived on just fine. How do you do that? And what about—it is kind of unpleasant—but all the excrement? What are you going to do with all that ‘bleep?’ Are you going to throw it out the eighteen inch window at the top? Did they have a conveyor belt system? How did it work? And so they look at that and think, ‘I am just not sure about that.’ Would you really take that literally? Is that how we should take it? Is that how they took it around their campfires and around their dinner tables? Did they think about it that way?

And there are other issues too that academics look at, and they challenge somewhat. Like they know that forty days and forty nights is a proverbial statement in Jewish culture. It was like saying (and you see it in many accounts in the Bible), forty days and forty nights was saying a long time, but it probably was not meant to be taken literally. It is just a long time. It is how they thought about things. Then, there is the issue of the rain itself, and how it all came down. Now, the New Living Translation and most modern translations, just simply talk about it as--there is the sky and the rain came down from the sky and you are good to go. But there is another word that is used. If you go to the New King James Bible, for instance, and they talk about the firmament—that the rain came down from the firmament. And so, when we think about firmament, we think, ‘well they are talking about sky or they are talking about the starry host and all that stuff,’ but if we go back to the original word, which the New American Standard version got right (it is one of the most academic and precise versions that is out there), both in the creation story and in the Noah account, they use a different word for sky: they use the word dome.

Now, I am going to butcher this a little bit, but broad stroke version is that the way the ancient people saw the world was that we kind of lived in this bubble, you know sort of like a snow globe, and there was water--not all inside, but outside, surrounding us. There was water below and there was water above, and above us was this massive dome called the firmament or called the sky. And then when it rained it was because God was opening up the floodgates of heaven. That is how they thought back then. They didn’t know any better. And so, kind of what these questions are asking us now is how we make sense of this and do we have to believe like they did in order to believe the story. How many of you believe that the sun revolves around the earth? None! Nobody does. Do you get mad at, do any of you hold a grudge against the earliest people in the Bible, actually, all the people in the Bible, do you hold them accountable and are you angry at them that they believed with everything in them that the sun revolved around the earth and not the other way around?... no, of course not. Do you get angry at them because they believed we lived in a dome and that God opened up the gates of heaven and there you go? No, you don’t hold it against them because you understand that it is the best that they could do given their time.

But we live in the age of Doppler radar, right? We know within minutes, you know, when rain is going to hit Napa and when it is going to move on to Valeo, and so on and so forth. I mean it is that precise, and we know when it is coming hundreds of miles off shore and we can look thousands of miles because of satellite stuff and our ability to understand temperatures and all that. We know how the whole thing is brewing. We know that hurricanes are lining up one after the other in hurricane season because we have cameras up there that are seeing them start to form, and we can gauge temperature in the water and so forth—we do not live back then. So, it would be inappropriate for us to become primitive in the sense of looking at the world the same way they did in that kind of a literalness because we know different, you know what I mean? We know different. And so really the bottom line is that the literalness of the story really isn’t the most important thing to begin with anyway.”

A few editorial reflective thoughts by Darrel Falk: The sermon continues, of course, and you can download it at the above link. What is "the most important thing" to which Pastor Shaw refers as the audio clip draws to a close? Regardless of whether you think it is historical or not, what is the message that God wants to communicate to us through this story? Consider reading Genesis 9 right now. What are the parallels in this "recreation"account to the original creation account? What does God want us to see in making those parallels? What about the rainbow? What does it symbolize for you? Can you sense God's love for all of creation (not just humankind) as this story draws to a close? Why does the story of Noah himself, however, not have a happier ending? Have we seen the theme of nakedness and the need to cover up nakedness in an earlier scriptural passage? Why do you think the story of Noah draws us back to this point (nakedness and shame), just like the story Adam and Eve does? What brought on shame for them? What brings on shame for us? Do you see that God is wanting us to think deeply about this story and its meaning? What is another example of the need to cover up? (Hint: think Moses.) What difference does the coming of Jesus make to all of this? (Hint: see II Corinthians 3:12-18.) Do you see the rainbow?]]> Sat, 12 Nov 11 04:00:15 -0800 Pete Shaw http://biologos.org/blog/saturday-sermon-science-the-enlightenment-and-god?utm_source=RSS_Feed&utm_medium=RSS&utm_campaign=RSS_Syndication http://biologos.org/blog/saturday-sermon-science-the-enlightenment-and-god?utm_source=RSS_Feed&utm_medium=RSS&utm_campaign=RSS_Syndication Pete Shaw, the senior pastor of Crosswalk Community Church in Napa California, offers a brief history of the interactions between science and faith in the first segment of his sermon.

Though some may believe that moving the science/faith dialogue forward is best left to scientists, scholars, and theologians, we at BioLogos recognize that our pastors play an invaluable role in the conversation. Across the globe, pastors are helping their congregations work through difficult issues of science and faith with honesty, insight, and a gentle spirit. To this end we present an ongoing series recognizing sermons (and the pastors who give them) that are helping to promote the harmony of science and faith.

Pete Shaw, who is the senior pastor of Crosswalk Community Church in Napa California, offers a brief history of the interactions between science and faith in the first segment of his sermon “The Flood. ” In this excerpt, he explains how the Church adopted Enlightenment thinking and advocated the scientific method as a way to verify God’s created order in nature. However, as science became more sophisticated, scientists began to question whether or not God intertwined with the natural world or even existed. In other words, they were asking the Church, ‘How can you prove God scientifically?’ Although the Church identified God as the first cause that led to all other causes in creation, scientists remained skeptical. At this, “the Church retreated, not recognizing that maybe they needed to change their perspective or widen their understanding of how we define what is true and what isn’t--beyond the scope of science.” Pastor Shaw appropriately concludes with this challenge: be willing to acknowledge the lens through which you see the world and be willing to be grown by God. The full sermon can be downloaded here. Finally, if you know a sermon or podcast related to science and faith that has especially spoken to you, please let us know.

One of the primary things that I am trying to bring to your attention is that in our present day, we have a certain proclivity toward how we approach the Bible, and it is a post-Enlightenment perspective, which means that when we look at just about anything in our world, when we read anything in our world, we read it as if it was literal historical fact: ‘it is true if it is verifiable.’ And we adopted that mindset—you didn’t vote on this—but our forefathers in the church adopted this mindset in the 17th century when Enlightenment started to come into play. The Church initially saw Enlightenment as a wonderful ‘brother in crime,’ so to speak, because Enlightenment was starting to come up with great scientific discoveries which were pointing to organization in the created world, and things developed in a very orderly way. Things could be proven that they turned out a certain way, and immediately, the Church Fathers looked at that and said, ‘that’s great news for the Church because science is proving that God exists.’ So, for 150 years, 125 years, we rode in that cart together, but science is indiscriminate in terms of how it approaches whatever its subject is—it doesn’t care about what subject it addresses.

So, when it came to God, science was starting to wonder if we need God at all, and was curious since they were figuring out so much about the created order and how things worked together and the explanation of so many things—they were taking mythology out of a lot of things, and so they were asking the Church: ‘how can you prove God?’ By this time, the Church had already adopted the scientific method saying, ‘It’s only true if you can prove it.’ And so, they were left with this question of how do you prove God scientifically? And the best thing that they could come up with was what is called the first cause, which simply means that science can identify that something happened to get this whole creation thing going, and the Church rallied and said ‘Yes! That something is God—God is the first cause that started all the other causes since, and he has been involved in the process.’ But science came back and said, ‘you know, just the fact that we don’t really know that doesn’t prove that you are right.’ So, the Church retreated, not recognizing that maybe they needed to change their perspective or widen their understanding of how we define what is true and what isn’t--beyond the scope of science. We held to our guns, and that has been the predominant voice in American Christian culture for the last 200 years or so—so strong, in fact, that a lot of what I have been sharing with you in last couple weeks seems incredibly new and disturbing. You may be wondering, ‘Where did this guy come up with this stuff?’ Well, the fact is that I am not really giving you anything new, I am giving you stuff that is very, very old. Because what I have recognized (because I have researched this stuff) is that the greats of our faith who lived centuries ago, when they looked at this book [the Bible], they looked at it very, very differently than we do, and they have something to say. So greats in the early Church like Origen, you know…names that you kind of remember from history class…St. Augustine, these kinds. Some of the Catholic greats that we know of through history, they had something to say, and all of what they said happened long before the Enlightenment when the Church decided to define what is true extremely narrowly.

So, my challenge to you is: can you, in a way, come to grips with the fact that your worldview, your vision, has been shaped significantly by the time you’ve grown up in and by the world in which we live? I am telling you it has, and I am also stating with great confidence that until we identify how the lens has been crafted through which we see everything, we are trapped and bound by it. In fact, we are shackled by it. Until we can see ourselves for who we are, understand our biases and how they shape everything we think about, those things keep us where we are, and we literally will not be able to hear anything new because it just won’t fit—that is a real problem when it comes to walking with God because God is continually wanting to grow us and stretch us in new directions, and if we don’t have room for that, we really don’t have room for God.”

Introduction

Today BioLogos begins a series that we think ought to have significant impact on evangelical churches far beyond the local congregation in Arlington, Massachusetts where it was first delivered. A recent editorial in Christianity Today stated that many Christians likely face another "Galileo moment." In that earlier era, finding that the earth moved around the sun--and not the other way around--caused the Church to reorient its understanding of certain scriptural passages. Today, interconnecting strands of evidence all of which lie at the heart of biology, geology, physics and astronomy require segments of the Church to carefully evaluate its magnificent creation narrative--it needs to be certain it is hearing God's message in the way that God intends for it to be understood. It is healthy for the conservative wing of Christianity to be carefully examining the genre of the creation narrative. It has had to do this once before and, it is appropriate to prayerfully seek clarity once again. Christians are truth-seekers and God's Spirit will guide the process as we sincerely seek that wisdom which is from above.

Oratory, at its best, has long been an important key in opening the door to new and dramatically important insights. Pastor David Swaim of Highrock Church in the Boston suburb of Arlington illustrates this poignantly. In fact his sermon is so significant, we've asked permission to post it in serial form so that each of us can deeply reflect on his words in a protracted fashion. We encourage you to let others who are conflicted over this issue know about the series so that they can follow it. Indeed, we believe It will be a great series for small group discussions--we need to lovingly support each other as we seek God's guidance in coming to understand God's truths.

In this sermon, Swaim discusses our belief in God as creator, or “Maker of heaven and earth”, as the Apostle’s Creeds so poetically states. To begin, he reminds us that some passages in the Bible, like the parable of the prodigal son, convey deep truths even though they are not historical accounts. Asking “the wrong questions”—questions that focus on arbitrary details—about such stories can cause us to miss out on their intended message. In a similar way, he says, it is possible that we might be asking the “wrong questions” about the opening chapters of Genesis. In recent years, conflict has erupted because a literal reading of Genesis seems to contradict the findings of science. Swaim suggests, however, that accepting scientific evidence about things like evolution and the age of the earth need not rule out faith in Scripture.

If you wish to jump ahead and hear the sermon in its entirety, you may do so here.

Introduction written by the BioLogos editorial team.

"Maker of Heaven and Earth" (transcript)

One of my favorite parables is that of the lost son. There’s a lot to it. Basically, it’s a story that Jesus told about a young man who insulted his father by demanding his share of the inheritance early, then ran off to spend that money on wild living, and found himself destitute when the money was gone. In desperation, he returned to his father, asking to work as a servant. But instead of being angry, his father joyfully embraced his lost son and threw a huge feast to celebrate his return. It is a great story that Jesus tells to help us understand God’s amazing grace.

How many of you know this story? Raise your hand, if you would. Okay. Now I want to make sure I’m clear…that’s a lot of you…I don’t mean just like, you know it because I just told it to you. I mean you know it because you’ve heard a sermon on this before, or maybe you’ve read it on your own. Raise your hand high if that’s true of you. Wow, still a lot of you. That’s perfect because I actually have a couple of questions maybe you can help me with. You see, it says that the father saw the son while he was still a long way off. Can anybody tell me how far off was the son at that point? Anybody know that? Because, you know, they didn’t have glasses back then, and the father was really old, so how far could he really see? It just doesn’t really add up for me. Can anybody tell me about that? Nobody? Okay. Well I have another question. Maybe this one’s easier. What town did that family live in? Does anybody know that? No? Nobody? What town they lived in? People, this is one of the greatest stories of all time! This is a story that has changed thousands of lives, including many of yours! How can you say that you know this story, that you understand this story, if you don’t even understand these basic facts? Okay, well maybe this is easier. Speaking of family, the Bible’s into family values, so I want to know—where’s the mother? Can anybody tell me? Is this family not intact? What’s wrong? Did they get a divorce maybe? And how come the father ended up with the custody of the sons? And why did they only have two? Families back then had much bigger families. Maybe they just got divorced too early? But I mean he seems so nice—why do you think she left? Anybody know these things? I mean I just don’t get it. You all tell me you know this story, and yet you don’t understand just these simple things about it.

Obviously, my questions miss the whole point of the story. There was no mother, or for that matter, no father or son either. This never actually happened. It’s just a parable. It’s one of the many marvelous stories that Jesus told in order to help us understand something that was hard to see. Now does that make it so that this story isn’t true? No, it is true. This story communicates some of the most important truths in the universe—about God’s nature, and the way that we relate to him. There are many passages in scripture that promise God’s love, or praise God’s love, or even try to explain God’s love. But this passage helps us grasp that truth in a way that’s much more effectively communicated than just through direct reporting. This way helps us feel it. This event never happened, but it’s one of the truest stories in the world. And what a shame for someone to dismiss it as irrelevant because it’s not literal history, or miss the point by asking the wrong kinds of questions.

Now I bring this up because just like my questions miss the point of the lost son parable, so, I fear, many of us ask the wrong questions about the beginning of the book of Genesis, which we read from just a few minutes ago. Not only does this generate needless confusion and division, it also makes us miss the point, miss the life-changing truths that we could see if we asked the right questions. Right now we’re in a sermon series studying the Apostle’s Creed, an ancient declaration of faith in the God of the Bible. And today, we’re considering the word “creator.” So, Genesis seemed like the right place to go.

Like the story of the lost son, most of you know the basic outline: God created the universe in six days and then napped on the seventh (so those of you who nap through my sermons every Sunday, you’re in good company!). But by adding up all the names of the people mentioned in Genesis, and throughout the rest of the Bible, seventeenth century Bishop Ussher determined that the creation of Adam and Eve, and everything else, happened in 4,004 BC—about 6,000 years ago. And that’s great. But you’re probably also aware that this creates some tension with contemporary scientists who suggest a different timeline. Considering the evidence offered by the size and expansion rate of the universe, plate tectonics, fossil evidence, and genetics, their best guess is that the universe was created by a big bang about 13 billion years ago, the earth appeared about 4.5 billion years ago, and the earliest humans existed about 200,000 years ago. In the past 300 years, this has become a very heated debate. Apparently, we need to choose whether we believe in science or in scripture. At least that’s the claim made by the most strident voices on each side, so the general population seems to have accepted that if you believe in God you can’t believe in evolution, and if you believe in evolution then you can’t believe in God.

This topic arouses passions and anxieties in many people, including some in this room. No matter what your perspective is, I’m probably going to say something today that you’ll disagree with, and might even make you angry. There’ll be plenty of time for you to set me straight in the coming weeks. But for the next half hour, in order to allow the possibility that we might hear something new, or even learn from the Holy Spirit, let’s lay aside our defensiveness so that we can at least consider why we are so attached to whatever ideas we have, and evaluate whether our devotion to one truth may be blinding us to others. As scientists have discovered more and more evidence supporting the basic evolutionary theory outlined in Darwin’s Origin of Species, Christians have responded in a variety of ways.

Science has been right about so many things, so some Christians have embraced evolution and felt forced to abandon their trust, not only in the truth of Scripture, but also in the God it describes. Other Christians, including many renowned scientists, have fought back by pointing out the many flaws in evolutionary theory and proposing alternative theories of their own. These include Young Earth Creation, which asserts that the earth was created in six days six thousand years ago, and offers thoughtful explanations to reconcile the findings of science with the words of Genesis 1. Old Earth Creationists do the same thing, but contend that each of the days in Genesis could represent an epoch, or a million years, or whatever amount of time, instead of just a 24-hour day. This is linguistically legitimate—it’s a fine interpretation of the Hebrew word “day” in Genesis—and it recognizes that it’s hard to measure a day before the invention of the sun in day four, anyway. So, Old Earth Creationism opens up many possibilities to reconcile scientific claims about the age of the earth with a literal interpretation of Genesis. Theistic Evolution takes further steps to accommodate evolution while still honoring God as the one who created heaven and earth and everything in them through the evolutionary process. This is attractive because it eliminates the conflict between science and scripture, but it requires a very different way of reading Genesis. They suggest that, like I did with the parable of the prodigal son earlier, perhaps we’re asking the wrong questions about Genesis so that we’re inventing an unnecessary argument, and even worse, we’re also missing what the first chapters of Genesis really are all about.

In the next installment, to be posted tomorrow, Pastor Swaim goes on to discuss the Genesis passage in detail.

]]> Thu, 27 Oct 11 05:00:06 -0700 David Swaim http://biologos.org/blog/art-worship-creation-and-imaginative-engagement?utm_source=RSS_Feed&utm_medium=RSS&utm_campaign=RSS_Syndication http://biologos.org/blog/art-worship-creation-and-imaginative-engagement?utm_source=RSS_Feed&utm_medium=RSS&utm_campaign=RSS_Syndication We should not be ashamed of the fact that our faith integrates spirit and body; our faith calls us to regard the stuff of creation in all of its materiality as good, and thus offers the best starting point for the practice and pleasure of art. In this chapel presentation, given at LaTourneau University in Longview, Texas, Ken Myers, founder of Mars Hill Audio, addresses the importance of art in both our worship and our understanding of creation. While some view the realms of the church and the arts as completely separate, Myers notes that both have suffered from a “diminished appreciation for the meaning of creation”. Creation is not simply a collection of materials for us to manipulate; rather it is a reflection of God’s own creativity. Creation is “an epiphany”.

While some may wonder what a discussion on art and worship has to do with science and faith, we feel Myers’ message is important for all Christians to hear, especially for its thoughts on creation and on our worship of God, the Creator.

Opening Prayer: “Will you join me in prayer as we focus our hearts and our minds on the Lord this morning? Let us pray. Take a minute and just speak to God yourself, and speak to him about your love for him and your thankfulness for his love and grace and mercy in your life—Father you are good and your love endures forever, your faithfulness to all generations. Thank-you for your faithfulness in our lives, thank-you for your grace that is sent to us, especially sent in the form of your son Jesus. Lord help us to continually appropriate that grace, to continually seek after you. Lord we ask that you would take this time to grow us, to spiritual form us. Amen”

Ken Myers: “Morning. I am in east Texas. The original invitation was to give some lectures on the subject of beauty. I am lecturing in Tyler beginning tonight and tomorrow morning, and when an opportunity came up to speak to you all here at Le Tourneau, I suggested that I might want to talk about a related topic, and so my topic this morning is going to be about the arts and worship.”

“I started working at National Public Radio just before I turned twenty-two. I went to work in the arts and performance department, and I was editing interviews with and commentaries about some of the most creative people in the world. Now, during that time I was also attending an evangelical church I had been at since 5th grade, and that meant that I was spending Monday through Friday with people who were intensely involved in the arts, but pretty much indifferent to, if not hostile to, the practice of Christian worship, and on Sunday’s I worshipped with people who often regarded the arts rather nervously, if not with hostility. It was like when worlds collide, and it was my life.

“During this period in my life on Sundays, I spent time with people who believed in creation, while during the week I worked with people who believed in creativity, and often their lives didn’t seem to overlap. My church friends were deeply committed to the first clause of the Nicene Creed: ‘I believe in one God, the Father Almighty, Maker of heaven and earth and of all things visible and invisible.’ These people believed in a creator. They described the world as a creation, but, in general, like most Christians for most of the Church’s history, they were often more eager to defend the fact of creation than they were to explore the consequences of creation’s nature and meaning in their everyday lives.

“My colleagues at NPR, on the other hand, and the people with whom I was pursuing my vocation, were all people who did not believe there was a maker of all things—they believed in nature, but not creation, and certainly not a creator. But they did believe, and sometimes in an almost religious way, in creativity. In fact, some of them were willing to ascribe almost redemptive power to creativity as made evident in the arts. The arts made life worth living. The arts fulfilled meaning in otherwise meaningless lives. In a world that was essentially chaotic, in which everyday life was dominated by bureaucratic, mechanistic institutions, the arts were great refreshment. They were a source of hope and joy and peace and even possibly moral guidance. The arts rendered us human, many of my friends believed, and delivered us from mere bestial or mechanistic existence. Some of them may have gone so far as to say that the arts imparted a spark of divinity into our lives.”

“Now I was used to living between these two worlds—I majored in film studies as an undergraduate, and I didn’t have a lot of colleagues in my department at the University of Maryland who took religion very seriously either. And I dealt with this conflict early on by starting to read as much as I could lay my hands on about Christianity and the arts. In 1975 (when I started at NPR), there wasn’t a lot written—you all are lucky that there is a lot more great stuff to read now on subjects like that—but I was beginning what turned out to be a life time of reading and study and writing and interviewing to try to understand how we had gotten to the point: how was it that the Church had generally allowed its concern with redemption to eclipse the theme in both Old and New Testaments of the goodness and givenness of creation? Why didn’t we attend to the structure and form of creation that much? …and how was it that modern western culture outside the Church had abandoned its belief in a creator, in a creation that was ordered and given meaning by its maker even while it tried to sustain a belief in human dignity and creativity?

“And over the years, as I have studied this and read about it and thought more about it, I came to realize that both the church and the world of the arts suffered from a diminished appreciation for the meaning of creation. Modern Christians often assume that they could relate to God apart from any deliberate relation to the stuff of creation, and modern secularists assume that they can relate to creation without recognizing or honoring the creator in any way. For both sides, creation is just a lot of raw material; creation isn’t inherently meaningful. It is meaningless and awaits our creativity to achieve significance. Modern Christians, moreover, have tended to pursue an understanding of God that was more and more abstract. It focused his attributes, on invisible realities rather than history, and as theology has aspired to be more like a science, it has assumed that we can think about God apart from his relationship with creation.

“ Of course, God’s identity is not determined by creation, but it is through God’s actions in and through creation that we know him. The Psalms make this very clear. He reveals himself through creation and his supreme revelation of himself involved his entering into creation in a sensory and perceivable way. Creation is an epiphany, it is a revealing…it is a revelation. The heavens declare the glory of God, and God’s eternal power and divine nature can be perceived in the things he has made…that is a remarkable statement. Throughout the Scriptures, especially in the wisdom literature and the Psalms, creation is depicted as an active and evident witness to God’s identity, and all of creation bears witness to God in a chorus of worship. In Psalms 89 we read the very heavens shall praise thy wondrous works and thy truth in the congregation of the saints. The heavens and the earth are depicted as testifying to God’s nature and to his coming triumph over evil. In Psalm 96 we read ‘let the heavens be glad, let the earth rejoice, let the sea roar and all that fills it. Let the fields exult and everything in them, then shall all the trees of the forest sing for joy before the Lord for he comes to judge the earth. He will judge the world in righteousness and the peoples in his faithfulness. Creation bears witness that those with ears to hear can hear, but to hear we have to approach creation with a well-ordered imagination.”

“There is a wonderful poem by Gerard Hopkins “God’s Grandeur,” and I mean it is wonderful in the strictness sense. It is full of wonder. He begins by insisting that the world is charged with the grandeur of God, and he goes on to suggest that modern men and women fail to perceive the grandeur of God. They fail to perceive what is revealed there because we are so preoccupied with practical things. All is seared with trade, bleared, smeared with toil, and all wears man’s smudge and shares man’s smell. We are too preoccupied with getting things done to actually attend to the glory present in creation, and as I have suggested, where the Scriptures present creation as an epiphany, a revelation, modern culture and a lot of modern Christians see creation as a lot of raw material resources. It is inert, meaningless stuff awaiting our creativity to become meaningful.

“So, the world is commonly regarded as material to which we do something, and not a source from which we receive something. I think that this attitude toward creation is contrary to how we should pursue the Arts, but also to how we ought to proceed in worship. Our worship should recognize that God the Maker of all things reveals himself in what he has made and that he calls us toward a receptive and grateful posture toward creation, not just toward the redemption he has provided…and that is really the posture of faithful artists. Both worship and the arts serve the function of reorienting our minds, our imaginations, and our practices so that we can properly perceive what creation is and what our position in creation should be. Art is a way of admiring and marveling and wondering at, as well as engaging in, meaningful and wonderful creation. God presents us in creation with materials and forms that artists transform, but they are always tethered to some order that is implicit in creation itself.

“Theologian Peter Lighthart has observed that the artist is always transforming, but this transfiguration is an attempt to get at dimensions of what is really there. It is not an abandonment of what is really there. Even if the artist is aiming at fantasy, art attempts to highlight patterns, correspondences, and dimensions to reality that are usually missed in our everyday experience and to force us to look again at the sunflower or the pipe or the chair. As the Russian formalists say, one of the purposes of art is to de-familiarize the familiar. The reason we do that is so that we can see it for what it is. It has become too familiar for us to recognize what it is. The artist is always responding to the reality of creation in some way—even the most abstract artistic forms—and the best artists are open to receiving something from creation before they can transfigure it. An artist has to sense creation with an exceptional acuity.

“Catholic philosopher Joseph Piper has a little book of essays called “Only the Lover Sings”—art and contemplation—only if you love something do you sing about it. Only if you delight in it, do you rejoice in it, and he is talking about the kind of rejoicing that is evident in works of art. He says there that to contemplate means first of all to see, not to think, and he is advocating a contemplative approach to creation so that we can see what it is, and then express what we have seen…a kind of seeing that is receptive and open, and not just accurate. That is the kind of seeing that is practiced by artists, and it is not unlike the tradition of contemplative prayer in the Christian tradition, and that gives us a link between worship and the arts.

“When I say the artist perceives creation, I don’t just mean trees and birds and colors and sunsets, but I mean all of the components of creation—shapes and sounds and textures—as well as various human activities within creation: the way our bodies inhabit space and time, the way words work with all their intriguing textures and resonances as well as the shape of our inner life—what sorrow feels like or sounds like or looks like. Memory, grief, affection—all of the aspects of nature and human nature have to be attended to lovingly and then reassembled or reconfigured or remixed in some way. Human creativity is not as God’s creativity ex nihilo—creation out of nothing—it is creation out of something, and it is a something that God, the God that we worship, has already blessed with meaning. Creation is meaningful revelation, and its revelation can be perceived as we are imaginatively involved with the stuff of creation. The God we worship, the maker of heaven and earth, has made as creatures whose lives are fulfilled when we engage creation well.”

“I have to confess that I get nervous when I hear Christian artists or other religious artists talk about the relationship between faith and art only as if art is an expression of spirituality or art is a gateway to the transcendent. It may be that, but I think they run the risk of presenting Christianity in disembodied terms. We should not be ashamed of the fact that our faith integrates spirit and body, but our faith calls us to regard the stuff of creation in all of its materiality as good, and thus offers the best starting point for the practice and pleasure of art.

“Christian worship has always been involved imaginatively with the stuff of creation. The poetry of the Psalms was recited by our Lord and his disciples so that he was engaged with the sound of words as well as the meaning of words. Music was a part of Christian worship—at least since choirs of angels greeted the nativity of the incarnate Christ and possibly earlier. Whether Mary sang her wonderful song which we call the Magnifica, a wonderful song inspired by her miraculous pregnancy or whether she simply spoke it we don’t know, but it is still sung week after week in churches around the world. Artful expressions and worship have been present in less obvious ways. It is notable that the communion table contains bread and wine, not wheat and grapes. It is not organic material in its most natural state that serves as a memorial meal that unites us with God, bread and wine are the products of human creativity. They are not simply of the natural blessing of God’s harvest, even grain and grapes require attention and care to bring them to fruition. Wine is an even more artful product and bread demands attentiveness to the details of creation. Bakers and vintners are not people we usually think of as artists, but what they do has a lot in common with what artists do: they take the stuff of creation and transform it into something newly delightful and beautiful. Bread, wine, and art all serve practical purposes, but they often go beyond necessity toward delight.

“Again, theologian Peter Lighthart has observed that art is a making that imitates the making of God, and it is most God-like when it is purely gratuitous, when it is not meeting a need—creation is gratuitous, it is not something that God needed to do, but we rejoice and give thanks both in worship and in the arts that he chose to do so. In worship, we honor the creator for the gift of creation and of salvation. In works of art we imitate God’s act of delighted and gratuitous making, and in the Lord’s Supper we receive a great feast, a table set for us not because we deserve it or even because we need it. God’s salvation could have been less extravagant, more perfunctory than a feast, just as the wine that Jesus made from water could have been merely passable rather than a really good wine. The wedding guests thought it was any way, and the inspired texts of the gospel seem to remind us of that. The gifts that God has given are given generously as well as gratuitously. Now, when we receive a great gift, we are delighted in the gift, and in the generosity of the giver, and so it is with a reception of a powerful work of art.

“When I hear the thoughtful and attentive performance of a carefully crafted piece of music or when I watch a masterfully constructed film, I often have a sense of gratitude not just to the performers and the composer or the director, but to God! I am grateful to live in a world where such joys are possible. The gratitude felt by the recipients of a gift resonates with the delight known by the giver of the gift. It is win-win, and that is a pattern built into creation since creation is the work of a dynamic three-personed God and the members of the Trinity enjoy an eternal giving and receiving of love among themselves. The doctrine of the Trinity reminds us of the personality and dynamism of God…qualities suggested in the ancient term applied to the Trinity by theologians [is] perichoresis. Perichoresis refers to the mutual indwelling of the persons of the Trinity, and by extension it refers to God’s relationship to the world whereby everything is in him and has its being in him. The ‘chor’ in perichoresis, by the way (if you have studied any Greek), may recognize that it shows up in our word choreography. Perichoresis literally means dancing around. So, the relationship among the persons of the Trinity is a dance—Father, Son and Holy Spirit dancing around each other and the Christian life which involves God in us and we in God is our entry into that dance.”

“What I am trying to do with all this theology is to make a case that artistic and imaginative and creative activity is not simply a pleasant and rewarding ornament that we might use to decorate our worship services or to increase enthusiasm to make them less boring, artistic activity is evidence to us of the kind of creatures we are, the kind of creator that God is, and the kind of world that we live in, a world that he has placed us in to love and serve him and others as we exercise our stewardship over that world. Since worship is in the words of one writer “the school of the Church,” our hearts and our minds are shaped through the experience of worship to properly perceive things as they are, and not only spiritual things, but all aspects of creation. After all, when Jesus commissioned the Church with the task of making disciples, he begins by declaring his authority over heaven and earth, not just their spiritual lives…and when we pray the Lord’s Prayer, we ask that God’s rule over all earthly things would become more and more evident on earth as it is in heaven. And so in worship we learn to perceive and name reality in a Christian way, and works of imagination can assist in those lessons.

“Since I have already mentioned the subject of music briefly, an observation from theologian and musician Jeremy Begby is appropriate here. In his book Resounding Truth: Christian Wisdom in the World of Music, Begby notes that in the western musical tradition guided by the Church quote “we have been placed in a world vibrant with its own God-given integrities and with the opportunity of interacting fruitfully with those integrities and that music is one means we have been given to do just that. When churches order their ministry of music with those kinds of integrities in mind, then music becomes a tool to reshape our imagination and to renew our minds.

“Art provides us with ways of perceiving reality aright. Not all art does this, or very well, and not all of us have allowed our imagination to be encouraged that kind of perception—we are in too big a hurry or it doesn’t seem practical enough; we have other things on our plate. Just as our thinking can be taken captive to worldly conclusions, so our imaginations can become preoccupied with novelty or with the merely interesting or with something that is trivializing or flattering. Just as we can surrender our bodies and the various consequences and configurations of our life in the body to patterns of disobedience, so we have the opportunity to present out bodies and all that we do in our body life in worthy and thoughtful sacrifice to God. The orienting of all aspects of our embodied life to God is the worship that we owe him.

“We learn that from Romans 12. And so, the use of our hands and our eyes and our ears and our voices in creativity activities that resonate with God’s own music in creation is a most suitable offering to bring him. In Romans 12, Paul warns about being conformed to this world and in no matter are we more in danger of worldly conformity than in our posture toward creation. All sorts of intellectual and social pressures suddenly persuade us to ignore the Biblical testimony of God’s identity as creator as well as the nature of our engagement with creation. The rationalism of the Enlightenment, which guides modern science and technology, encourages us to assume a god-like stance over the material world and at the other extreme, modern materialism suggests that we are at the mercy of something utterly different and incomprehensible.

“The Gospel picture of creation is radically different. Theologian Colin Gunton has said that we can know the world, not infallibly, not with a name of a kind of omniscience because we are both a part of it and able to transcend it through our personal powers of perception, imagination, and reason…and perception, imagination, and reason come together most intensely in artistic modes of knowledge and expression. The world is a creation intended for us to inhabit. It is not simply a meaningless, cosmic accident, and thus art can be powerful, it can resonate deeply in our lives, and even people who believe that the world is the product of a cosmic accident often cannot help when they work creatively to behave that way. Imaginative expressions in the visual arts and poetry and music have existential power because at some level, they convey to us something about the various connections and likenesses that God has placed in creation.

“This is especially evident, I think, in poetry where metaphor is involved in the recognition of likenesses, and it is an idea that came up in a conversation that I enjoyed a number of years ago—someone less famous than Johnny Cash—Richard Wilbur, who is probably our greatest living poet. Wilbur and I talked about the centrality of metaphor and poetry, how poetry works by likening one thing to another. In Psalm 1, a righteous person is compared to a tree sustained by its life and fruitfulness in life-giving water. The power of metaphor, Wilbur observed, “puts almost every poet in danger of being religious. If anything can be compared to anything else, if the world can be seen as a linkage of similes and metaphors and figures, then poetry itself comes very close to declaring that all things are co-natural, that they are of one nature and that brings you to the threshold of saying all things have had a maker.” Wilbur went on “I remember ages ago reading the final book of poems by poet Joseph Warren Beach, who claimed to be an atheist, and I took it around to him and he was in Cambridge at that time, and I said Joseph look at these two lines. Don’t you think that they amount to a religious affirmation? He read them and said ‘well, I can see that they do. I must say that I seem simply to have submitted to the spirit of poetry at that moment. It is an awesome thing to submit to the spirit of poetry even if for a moment.’”

“Worship that avoids imaginative expressions runs the risk of reducing our religious experience to mere ideas or mere therapy, when in fact our religious experience is rightly understood as cosmic. The scale of the Christian story incorporates the intensely intimate and the vast incomprehensibles of the cosmos, and we need works of imagination to convey that whole story to us, to refresh our gratitude to God, to reorient our engagement with all that he has made, and to baptize our imaginations. Art that resonates with the order in creation conveys to us a deeper character of our creator and the character of the order he has placed there.

“In Isaiah 45, there is this wonderful passage where we read of God: “For thus says Yahweh, the creator of the heavens, he is God who shaped the earth and made it, who set it firm. He did not create it to be chaos; he formed it to be lived in. I am Yahweh and there is no other. I have not spoken in secret, in some dark corner of the underworld; I did not say offspring of Jacob search for me in chaos. I am Yahweh. I proclaim saving justice; I say what is true.” In closing, I want to comment on that observation from Eugene Peterson in his recent book Christ Plays in Ten Thousand Places. He says at the beginning of that book…and that line by the way “Christ plays in ten thousand places” is from a poem by Gerard Manly Hopkins—I think it is the poem the “King Fisher,” which is about the glory evident in a bird…Peterson writes, ‘it is the task of the Christian community to give witness and guidance in the living of life in a culture that is relentless in reducing, constricting, and enervating life’ [repeated once more].

“I think that with that task in mind the Church and its ministry in discipleship and mission should proceed in three steps. First, we need to identify the ways the culture around us has misshaped or misunderstood how to live life well in God’s creation, how it has sundered what should be united. Second, the church in its teaching and discipling should encourage the convictions and practices necessary to restore a proper wholeness to life, which includes recognition of all the glories and wonders of creation. Third, motivated by the need to love our neighbors, care for widows and orphans in their misery, and having demonstrated to the world the ways in which redeemed humanity is a fulfilled humanity, the church has to find the false gods under whose captivity people are suffering. I am afraid in our time there are a lot of false ideas that penetrate the world of the arts, and part the task of the church is to recognize those false ideas so that we can, in fact, be liberated. This is a problem that should concern the church, and not just those in Christian arts—thank-you very much.”

"Reply the tape a million times ... and I doubt that anything like Homo sapiens would ever evolve again" (Stephen Jay Gould from "Wonderful Life", 1989 p. 289, Harvard University Press.).

With his standard panache, the late Harvard paleontologist Stephen J. Gould argued strenuously that evolution had no inherent directionality. It was a cosmic crapshoot - in no way destined to produce anything complex, self-conscious or human. We are mere accidents; a "tiny twig on an improbable branch of a contingent limb on a fortunate tree" ("Wonderful Life" p. 291). Highly fortunate indeed! Eons ago, a dinosaur-dominated earth held little promise for mammalian ascendancy (let alone primates or humans). Our distant ancestors might have remained little more than scurrying nuisances nipping at the feet of giants if not for a most unlikely calamity - a massive meteor strike which swept away the dinos and forever altered the earth's bio-saga. Who would have guessed?

Evolution's capricious nature seemed to represent a severe stumbling block for the Abrahamaic religious traditions. In their narrative, humans represented the culmination of God's creative work - the very purpose for creation itself. But evolution is an awfully shoddy way of enacting a divine plan. Gould delighted in annoying the faithful by emphasizing this very point:

"Odd arrangements and funny solutions are the proof of evolution - paths that a sensible God would never tread but that a natural process, constrained by history, follows perforce" ("The Panda's Thumb", 1980, pp. 20-1).

Theologians, however, were quick to point out that the chance element in evolution was neither new nor necessarily contrary to the Judeo-Christian view of God. Human history was replete with chance; evolution only extended the theme. Moreover, chance allowed for freedom - a virtue high on God's agenda. However theologically sound these retorts may have been, their force was often lost on the average believer. The accidental nature of human existence provided just another reason to reject evolution altogether in order to preserve God's special concern for humanity.

Gould was a talented science writer, but he overplayed evolution's whimsy. Increasingly, science is showing that the evolutionary process has many built in constraints which limit its possibilities and bias its pathways. Take, for example, the ubiquitous phenomenon of convergence - the tendency for highly diverse species to independently evolve similar adaptive (analogous, not homologous) traits. Most of us are familiar with the saber-toothed tiger, the scourge of our hominin ancestors. Less familiar are a group of South American marsupials called the thylacosmilids who independently evolved similar protruding saber-teeth. Convergence can also be seen in a number of specifically human traits. For example, we share a mode of locomotion, bipedalism, with birds, kangaroos, and some dinos. The lateralized and convoluted structure of our brains can also be found in octopi, this despite the fact that vertebrates and cephalopods diverged from one another over 450 million years ago.

In his book "Life's Solution" (2003, Cambridge Press) Cambridge Palaeobiologist Simon Conway Morris documents scores of examples of convergent evolution from insect body designs to the social systems of dolphins and chimpanzees (both fission-fusion). The important lesson is that there are only a limited number of ways that evolution can solve the adaptive problems posed by the earth's ecosystems. Time and again, evolution stumbles upon the same general design features from which to fashion adaptive traits.

Now add to this the Baldwin effect - an idea originally proposed in 1896 wherein organisms are posited to actively shape their own selective forces. For example, suppose some fairly intelligent primates begin fashioning tools, giving them access to new resources and a competitive advantage over non-tool users. Any genetic predisposition facilitating tool use would also be positively selected.

A severe limitation on Baldwin effects has always been the unpredictability of genetic mutation. For any heritable genetic changes to occur (so the thinking has always been) our tool wielding primate would just have to wait around and hope for a lucky "tool use" mutation to pop up. But maybe not. Two recent books, Jablonka and Lamb's "Evolution in Four Dimensions" (2005 MIT press) and Kirschner and Gerhart's "The Plausibility of Life" (2005, Yale University Press) discuss connections between recent work in genetics and Baldwinian processes. What if the primate's tool use actually raised the probability that a tool-relevant genetic change would take place which could then be passed along to offspring?

Recent genetic research (in a field called epigenetics) shows that experiences occurring over one's lifetime can produce heritable genetic changes. For example, mice exposed to two weeks of environmental enrichment (more social interaction, activity, novel objects to explore) show evidence of enhanced memory function (not surprising). More surprising is that their offspring also show evidence of enhanced memory even though they were never exposed to environmental enrichment (Journal of Neuroscience, 29, p. 1496). Thus, the increased environmental stimulation created a genetic change in the parents that was then transmitted to offspring. This change appears to involved altered patterns of gene regulation (how genes are turned on and off during development). Similar effects have been noted in humans (see European Journal of Human Genetics, 14, p. 159).

Convergence, epigenetic inheritance, and Baldwin effects are only a few of the mechanisms serving as directional constraints on evolution's pathways. In his review of the various factors affecting the evolutionary process, anthropologist Melvin Konner concludes:

"There are no intrinsic driving factors in evolution, but there are intrinsic constraints and canalized paths along which either evolution or development may more easily proceed" ("The Evolution of Childhood," Harvard Press, 2010, p. 59, emphasis in original).

Of course, none of these constraining factors guarantee our arrival on the evolutionary stage. They do, however, raise the odds that in time a complex, rational, self-aware creature capable of entertaining both scientific and religious ideas might emerge.

The more we understand evolution, the less it seems like neither the bogeyman that creationists fear nor the universal God-dissolving acid some atheists crave.