My walk in the scientific/evangelical world – Who am I?

First, a little history. While I was working towards my doctorate in Bioengineering at the University of Washington, my husband and I attended a Presbyterian church in Seattle. Young and newly married, we chose to help in Sunday School, and found our niche teaching second graders there for almost 10 years. During that time I was very involved in the scientific world and surrounded by a university community that had a real appreciation for science. Wrapped up as I was in the lab, focusing on my dissertation, and living in a climate of serious inquiry and study, I was unaware of any significant disconnections between science and faith. Science was actively integrated with faith from the pulpit of our church, and in turn, we always loved to bring little bits of science into our lessons—even to the point of using sediment deposits in the Black Sea as evidence of a regionally-based ‘flood’ event thousands of years ago during our lessons about Noah’s ark. No one complained.

As I loved research, I continued to work in a lab at UW once I finished my PhD. But I also had two babies while completing my dissertation, and eventually found it challenging to balance work and family. When my husband was relocated to San Diego, I took that difficult uprooting as an opportunity to step back from labwork and spend more time with preschoolers. Leaving life at a fast-paced urban research university for the relaxed and resort-like coastal suburbs of San Diego County was another kind of culture shock, compounded by the fact that we found looking for a new church to be particularly hard. After some consultation with friends of friends, we stepped out of our Mainstream Protestant comfort zone and visited a Calvary Chapel.

There was certainly an adjustment period (eventually we stopped doing a double-take every time we saw the board shorts and flip-flops on Sunday morning – even on the stage!), but over time we were able to plug into a dynamic evangelical community. We found the vibrant, Christ-centered church to be a great place to make deep and lasting connections with the people, both through small groups and by serving in Children’s Ministry. Making a personally quite revolutionary decision to fully step away from the busy life of a researcher, I found a new calling when I took on a part time job leading the church’s 2nd and 3rd Grade program.

A surprising disconnect in the faith community

I now find myself spending my weekends with over a hundred kids and volunteers, and it has been a great adventure. However, it has also been through this ministry that I discovered first hand the uncomfortable disconnect between science and the evangelical church. At first it was just a few throw-away comments from fellow believers in church: dismissal of museum exhibits, eye-rolling at the ancient geology of the Grand Canyon, etc. Of course, I had heard rumors of such thinking, but I was a little surprised to find it to be so common in the Evangelical community. Many people I knew were rejecting large swathes of science outright. Sometimes I give out prizes to the kids in my class—trinkets and other insignificant plastic things that kids love—and some of the items I had in our “prize box” were “dino eggs with dino facts.” To my amazement, these items brought on complaints from parents because of their reference to the age of the dinosaurs some 65 million years ago.

Meanwhile, my husband—an environmental engineer with a background in Geology—was serving at the church with older kids. In his class he often heard that favorite question from Christian kids, “How do the dinosaurs fit into the creation story?” But the only answer he’d ever heard in response was the explanation that dinosaurs were obviously on the ark, and somehow became extinct after the flood. He is the most easy-going person ever, but he was taken aback by this wholesale dismissal of geologic history and by the lack of a more nuanced discussion of Scripture. At that point we began to ask around, and learned that, yes, this is a common way of thinking in evangelical circles.

These attitudes about science and the Bible seemed especially prevalent among the many home schooling families in our community. More than half of my church coworkers homeschool or send their kids to Christian schools. Several of these wonderful folks were homeschooled themselves, and very few attended secular universities. Many of the children and families that I minister to each week are also homeschooling families, and for the first time I became troubled by what they were learning about science and the natural world. I attended public school and secular universities both for undergraduate and graduate studies, and (after much thought and discussion) we chose to send our own kids to public schools, not least because we want them to have great training in science and math. While we are fortunate enough to live in a community with challenging public schools well equipped to prepare kids in those areas, I want the same for homeschooled kids, as well. All Christian young people should be able to both excel in science and grow in their understanding of the God of Scripture, whether they’re taught in institutional settings or at home. I only wish I could better trust available homeschooling science curriculum materials to achieve that end.

Is there cause for concern? Does it really matter?

One can correctly argue that Jesus’ incarnation and resurrection are the central beliefs and values of the Christian faith. In the end, does it matter what we teach our kids about origins or the age of the Universe? What harm is there in these black and white beliefs held by good people doing good things?

I believe that it does matter, for several reasons:

1. We have generation of Christian young people who are not trained in scientific principles that will allow them to meaningfully contribute to fields such as cosmology, geology, biology, etc. Our universities especially need an evangelical presence!
2. Thoughtful, scientifically-minded people—both young and old—will be pushed AWAY from the evangelical community. I know that I could not attend a church that dismisses scientific evidence in order to fit nature’s narrative into preconceived ideas, or one where scientists are actively mocked.
3. The faith of homeschooled and other Christian kids can be challenged when they have their first college classes on geology, evolutionary biology, etc. Many will reach a point where they think they have to choose between their faith and what the scientific world tells them about the created order.
4. Simply, evangelicals are in danger of looking a bit ridiculous to reasonable and educated people when they appear so fearful of science, making it easier for non-Christians to dismiss the gospel message.

Exploratory Efforts –Communicating God’s Revelation in Nature

Despite these experiences and concerns, my overall impression of the evangelical community’s perspective on science is that in most areas, everything is fine. But it seems that sensitivity around a few points—particularly origins, the age of the earth and climate change—limits open discussion even of more general scientific issues, and as wonderful as they are, our pastoral staff rarely invokes natural wonders to illustrate doctrine, whether speaking to adults or kids.

As a Christian, a scientist and an educator, I particularly want the kids I work with to know that it is good to wonder about the world around us and say “God Did It – But How?” More than that, I want them to know that they do not have to be afraid of the answers to those questions. So I ask myself, “Is there anything I can do?” As it turns out, I’ve concluded that there are ways that I (like any of us) can help, even if the efforts are incrementally small at first. Our church hosts a tremendous summer camp that teaches kids Bible stories and worship, but also gives children a chance to choose an “elective” and learn more about subjects like art, music, cooking, a sport, or science. Each summer more than 1,000 kids attend this outreach at our church campus, and I was privileged this past summer to be able to “coach” science and write up a fun science curriculum that dovetailed with the various Bible stories the kids were hearing.

The practice of science became a wonderful avenue for sharing God’s love and the Salvation Story whether I pulled ideas for experiments directly from the Bible (such as creating, testing and optimizing sling shots like David) or used the stories more allegorically; extracting DNA from strawberries (always a hit with kids) illustrated our uniqueness in God’s eyes, while creating a solar music box demonstrated the beauty of living in God’s light vs. hiding in the darkness. I found that this was an excellent place in which to bring young Christians (and non-Christians) into an understanding and appreciation of basic scientific principles in conjunction with communicating spiritual truth. My hope is that those lessons will open their eyes to further inquiry as they grow up and move on through junior high, high school, and—for some—beyond.

In the end, I was inspired to write out a preliminary curriculum, combining scriptural lessons with science experiments. This effort led me to co-author Wonders In Our World: Insights From God's Two Books, a book that further explains the complementarities of God’s Two Books – the book of nature and Scripture. While materials like these can be used in church settings such as the summer camp at our Calvary Chapel, my hope is that they will become a resource for Christian families all year long—especially for those homeschoolers I love so much. A full curriculum may still be a ways off (perhaps I’ll have more to share about that in a future post), but in the meantime, I’m honored to be able to draw on both Scripture and science to share my joy in Christ and his creation.

Keeping History Safe

In the cold morning air with the sun not yet over the ridge, the place to begin preparation for summiting Mount Darwin is to ponder the reasonableness of miracles. Many Totalizers would like to ban miracles from university consideration and inquiry. Trouble is: human history is awash with credible people reporting miracles.

Modern academic tradition tends to try and maintain order. For historians it behooves us professionally to avoid accounts of alleged spiritual events. We find comfort in a little logical gymnastics that keeps history safe for us to wander in, a deceptively formulaic avoidance method that helps us avoid what people are telling us about extraordinary events in the past.

David Hume popularly articulated this logical gymnastics in an essay titled “Of Miracles” that was eventually printed in Enquires Concerning Human Understanding (1748). “I flatter myself,” Hume triumphantly proclaimed, “that I have discovered an argument . . . which, if just, will, with the wise and learned, be an everlasting check to all kinds of superstitious delusion, and consequently, will be useful as long as the world endures.”

His everlasting check on superstition begins with a circular argument that because miracles can’t happen, a reasonable person should not even listen to reports of them. Hume taught that though the normal job of a historian was to listen to the testimony that comes down to us from the past, there is a point at which you can close your ears. Hume knew that historical testimony can get wild, so he came up with a way to domesticate the wildness, a way to make history a zoo rather than allow it to be a jungle. His “Of Miracles” has been tremendously influential in the discipline of human history over the last two hundred and fifty years, not because his ideas are strong, but because his ideas are useful. Get rid of “superstitious delusions,” and the discipline of history can be turned from a safari into a form of home economics. Hume’s domestication of history is seductively simple. Instead of following the Aristotelian tradition of linking the credibility of hard-to-believe testimony to the credibility of the testifier, Hume recommended disregarding the testifier and focusing only on the testimony. This effectively removed the persuasive power from hard-to-believe testimony. Miracles need the credibility of an eyewitness in order to have persuasive power. Hume cut the power source from the unwanted testimony.

Essentially, Hume adopted the modeling technique that Darwin later used and is best seen in Global Positioning System (GPS) units. Hume recommended gathering testimony from the past and every region to create a general model of what humans generally experience. Using this mass of information, one should generalize standards of common experience. Now if anyone reports a miracle, the alleged event can’t be true because it does not conform to the generalized standards of common experience. (Of course, Hume had already refused to allow that any reports of miracles could be used even to generalize common experience.) It’s tricky. Its logic is circular. But it works to weed out awkward, quirky information. It is as if a domineering GPS unit created a sphere to serve as an abstraction for the earth, then insisted that the earth can’t have wobbling poles and flattening in the upper latitudes because the sphere in the GPS shows it can’t be true. Given a useful and trustworthy GPS, don’t listen to a scientist who might tell you something different than what the GPS tells you.

The circularity of this argument has been noted ever since Hume first proposed it, but Hume was a good writer and said what a lot of people wanted to hear. Miracles are impossible so miracle reports can’t be true. Don’t even listen to reports of them.

Balancing Likelihoods

Also embedded in Hume’s essay is the awkward “rule of logic,” most often called “Balancing Likelihoods.” By combining math and logic in an odd way, Hume’s “Of Miracles “ offered another way for historians to avoid thinking about miracles. Balancing Likelihoods has many names but is probably best stated by David Hackett Fischer, in his Historians’ Fallacies: Toward a Logic of Historical Thought, as “the rule of probability:”

“[A]ll inferences from empirical evidence are probabilistic. It is not, therefore, sufficient to demonstrate merely that A was possibly the case. A historian must determine, as best he can, the probability of A in relation to the probability of alternatives. In the same fashion he cannot disprove A by demonstrating that not-A was possible, but only by demonstrating that not-A was more probable than A. This is the rule of probability.”

This seems to be practical but is impossible. Balancing Likelihoods, in the way described by Fischer, cannot be used by historians in any normal practice. It is a talisman to keep history mentally safe from the wildness that is reported to exist. Logicians, especially mathematicians, have long criticized intellectual constructions like this. The “probability” that Fischer writes about is seemingly mathematical, but the math is simply implied to give a sense of strength to human feelings.

Before Hume wrote “Of Miracles” probabilistic logic had been advancing rapidly and there was a great hope that mathematical analogies would strengthen human thinking—even Christian apologetics. “Pascal’s Wager,” the most famous mathematical apologetic from the seventeenth century, equated eternal salvation with mathematical infinity and then applied it to a gambling formula. Antoine Arnauld, in The Port-Royal Logic (1662), and John Locke, in his Essay Concerning Human Understanding (1690) and Discourse on Miracles (1706), carried probabilistic math and logic into the handling of reported miracles. A half-century later, however, Hume reacted against Arnauld and Locke’s teachings that mathematical analogies could help in the discussion of the credibility of miracles. Hume insisted that to handle a reported miracle, a historian had to create two separate ratios, pro and con, for believability. The ratios were then to be weighed against each other. This is Fischer’s “rule of probability” quoted above. In the language of Hume’s era, this was proclaimed as the “calculus of good sense.”

Lorraine Daston, in Classical Probability in the Enlightenment (1988), offers an excellent study of Hume and the many eighteenth-century mathematicians who wanted to help bring rigorous quantitative thinking to what today would be called the humanities. Daston writes that by the 1840s, mathematicians realized that “the ‘calculus of good sense’ had become antithetical to good sense,” and that today most of what these early probabilists were trying to do is considered “patently absurd.”

In 1901, one of America’s preeminent philosopher-mathematician-logicians, Charles Sanders Peirce, wrote three essays attacking the way historians had adopted Hume’s bad logic: “A Preliminary Chapter, Toward an Examination of Hume’s Argument Against Miracles, in its Logic and in its History,” “Hume’s Arguments Against Miracles, and the Idea of Natural Law,” and “On the Logic of Drawing History from Ancient Documents especially from Testimonies.” Peirce showed that historians are in error when they talk of judging testimony by balancing probabilities because “in a scientific sense, there are no ‘probabilities’ to be judged.”

Probability, Peirce wrote, “is the ratio of the frequency of occurrence of a specific event to a generic event.” A testimony “is neither a specific event, nor a generic event, but an individual event.” Peirce further pointed out that what people were justifying by claiming Balancing Likelihoods was really simply relating “what they prefer to do” to what they don’t prefer. “Likelihood is merely a reflection of our preconceived ideas.”

Historians like me who teach in universities about the reasonable credibility of Jesus’ resurrection need to be students of Peirce not Hume on the subject of assessing the credibility of reports that come down to us from ancient history. Dealing wisely with reports of events verging on the incredible is just part of the normal job of being grounded in the social study of our complex human past.

“Come to history as a doubter,” Richard Marius advises in a historical methods manual. “Skepticism is one of the historian’s finest qualities. Historians don’t trust their sources. . . . Nothing is quite so destructive to a historian’s reputation as to present conclusions that prove gullibility.”

But Marius is wrong. In practice, historians have to trust more than doubt. In practice, historians, especially ancient historians, can’t rely on doubting. Historians have to be close listeners, discerning listeners, wise listeners, who sometimes have to make harmonies and stretch for belief.

Some Christians cringe when they hear the word “evolution,” and not without reason: considering evolution as God’s means of creating the life we see around us suggests that we need to revisit some familiar biblical passages and brings up some tough theological questions. Meanwhile, militant atheists repeatedly invoke evolution in the media, trying to discredit Scripture and the Christian faith. So why focus on such a controversial topic? We at BioLogos understand that these issues can be difficult, but we believe the church is called to consider evolutionary creation. For us, this conversation is not just about abstract ideas and academic debates, but about God’s ongoing creation, the faith of individual believers, and the mission of the church.¹ Here are several points to consider about evolution in light of Christian faith.

Considering evolution helps us understand God's creation

See “Can science and scripture be reconciled?”

As Christians, we believe that “In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth” (Genesis 1:1), and that the Bible teaches that God reveals himself to us in the natural world he created (“The heavens declare the glory of God”, Psalm 19:1). In the study of God’s creation, scientists have discovered tremendous wonders that reach far beyond what the Bible describes—things like quarks, neurons, and galaxies. Scientists have also discovered abundant evidence of the long history of the universe and of life (including people), which you can read elsewhere on this site. It is crucial that Christians consider this evidence because it comes from God’s own handiwork in the natural world. Since we believe that nature declares God’s glory, we cannot stop listening to the created order when it declares something that seems new to us.

See the category of questions on God’s action in the natural world

At BioLogos, we view evolutionary creation as a description of how and when God brought about all the creatures on earth. We do not see God as distant from this process, for God did not just set up the universe at the beginning and let it go. Instead, he upholds the universe moment by moment, sustaining all things by the power of his word. The regular patterns in nature that we call natural laws have their foundation in the regular, faithful governance of God (see Jeremiah 33:19-26). Thus we believe that God created every species and did it in such a way that we can describe the creation process scientifically. The scientific model of evolution does not replace God as creator any more than the law of gravity replaces God as ruler of the planets.

Considering evolution helps us understand the Creator God

A short video of beautiful places on earth that declare “Our God is an Awesome God”

The created order—nature—also teaches us about the Creator. The heavens declare the glory of God (Psalm 19:1) and show his eternal power and divine nature (Romans 1:20). The Bible is our primary source of knowledge about God, and God’s character cannot be derived by looking at nature alone. But for those who know and trust God as their savior, the created order has the stamp of the Creator all over it.² The starry heavens show God’s glory (Psalm 19), the thunderstorm displays God’s power (Psalm 29), and ecosystems show God’s care for plants and animals (Psalm 104:10-18). Today we know much more about God’s creation than the Biblical authors knew; telescopes and microscopes have expanded our horizons to the very large and the very small. Through science, we’ve learned how things work and fit together, too. Joining study and worship, we can think God’s thoughts after him, tracing his hand through the physical laws he used to create our world, marveling at the way he provides for creation as much as at the endless forms most beautiful he has created.³

Here are three examples of biblical attributes of God emphasized by studying evolutionary science:

• God is extravagant. God did not create just one type of flower, but uses the system of evolution to create a huge variety of flowers, of every size, shape, color, and scent. As opposed to being “wasteful,” a biblical view of evolution helps us appreciate it as a pointer to the extravagance of God’s loving gift of life to the whole earth. God’s creation does not reflect a cold efficiency, but the transformation of such “waste” into worship, just as Jesus honored the woman who poured expensive perfume on his feet⁴ (Mark 14:3-9, John 12:3-8).
• God is patient, and most often works gradually rather than instantaneously. In the natural world, we see God creating life over billions of years, not instantly, and grand geological processes playing out slowly over time, as well. Similarly, in the Bible we read of the centuries that passed between God’s covenant with Abraham and his covenant with David and the centuries more before Jesus appeared “in the fullness of time” (Galatians 4:4). In individual lives, God often works by planting his Word deep in us and letting it grow slowly over time. God seems pleased with the slow but extraordinary unfolding of his universe, just as he is patiently unfolding his plan of redemption.⁵
• God is the provider. He provides for his creatures in each moment, giving them what they need to survive, adapt and thrive in communities of life. The Bible speaks of God feeding and caring for animals (Jonah 4:11, Psalm 104), and modern evolutionary science is shedding light on how God has arranged complex ecosystems that support many different kinds of creatures together. But God provides for his creatures even at the genetic level, giving species a measure of biological “creativity” to help them respond to new challenges. As biologist Richard Colling says, “Evolution is not about the imposition of death and destruction and survival of the fittest. Those things are a part of it, but not the main core of what evolution is. . . [The] evolutionary process of creating duplicate genes that give rise to new possibilities [is] redemption, it’s possibility, and it’s hope.”⁶

Considering evolution helps the Church confront atheist worldviews

Considering evolution provides an opportunity to challenge atheistic arguments, rather than supporting them. Evolution is not rightly a philosophy or worldview: it is a scientific model that describes the patterns and rules we see in God’s creation of life—much as gravity describes the interaction he has ordained or planets and stars, or as quantum mechanics describes the relationships between elementary particles of matter. By reasserting that evolution is a description of God’s processes and not a worldview in and of itself, Christians can help show atheism to be secular philosophy and not part of science.

Ian Hutchinson, MIT professor of nuclear engineering, is one believing scientist responding to atheist arguments (video and blog)

Similarly, we should reject claims that evolution has effectively disproved the existence of God, debunked Christianity, and shown that faith is based on nothing more than superstition, clearly and forcefully refuting such claims in public. But to be effective in that task, our response should not be to attack what science shows so compellingly about the created order, but again, to expose these atheist arguments as philosophy, rather than science. Scientific explanations of natural process do not eliminate God or deny his sovereignty over creation, and science cannot prove or disprove the existence of God. But exploring creation with the tools of science can profoundly enhance and support belief in and worship of God, a case that Christian philosophers have been convincingly making in the public square.⁷

Considering evolution helps Christian students to remain strong in their faith

How should Christians respond to atheist philosophy in the guise of science? Just as Lois and Eunice raised Timothy in the faith (2 Tim 1:5, 3:14-15), so do all Christian parents, pastors, and teachers want to prepare young people to keep their faith strong as they enter university and adult careers. But while it’s wise to arm young believers against atheistic worldviews, teaching them to ignore the science can unwittingly set young people up for a crisis of faith.⁸ When Christian students encounter the powerful scientific evidence for evolution, many realize their parents and pastors may have been wrong about science and begin to question other beliefs they were taught. One recent survey shows that a key factor in the evangelical Church losing its credibility among young people is its hostility towards mainstream science and its assertion of young-earth and anti-evolutionary creation models that contradict virtually all of the evidence God is revealing through science.⁹

On the other hand, another recent study has shown that biology professors who follow Jesus and accept evolution offer a powerful counter-narrative to those who equate evolution with atheism and can help students find their way forward in faith and prepare them to carry their witness into the wider scientific culture. If parents and church leaders also emphasized the centrality of Jesus and the gospel and taught that Bible-believing Christians hold an array of views with respect to how God created life, young people would be better equipped to reject atheistic worldviews and inspired to explore God’s creation more deeply.

Considering evolution aids evangelism among scientists

Understanding evolution can aid evangelism to those who work in science and technology fields, whereas anti-evolution and anti-science attitudes in the church can hinder evangelism to scientists. While atheism among scientists is actually less common than the popular stereotype,¹⁰ a recent study indicated that over 80% of top scientists do not attend worship services regularly and likely do not know Jesus as their Savior, while another found that many top research scientists who had left the faith did so because the church wasn’t welcoming to them or their questions.¹¹ Because some Christians claim that evolution must be rejected in order to convert to Christianity or remain a faithful follower of Christ, the Church may become a stumbling block to faith rather that a place to nurture those who are seeking God. Indeed, this argument adds an unbiblical requirement for joining the Body of Christ, much as some in the early church wanted to add the requirement of circumcision for gentiles coming to Christ (Acts 15).

Meet some top scientists who are Christians, from the past and the present (blog)

On the contrary, the Church’s support of scientists both inside and outside the church advances the Kingdom. One of the most powerful responses to academic atheism occurs when believing scientists pray for and care for their non-Christian colleagues¹² (Matthew 5:43-48), and atheistic or agnostic scientists are more likely to listen to the good news from a fellow scientist they know and respect. The small percentage of scientists who are evangelical believers need the prayers and support of their brothers and sister in Christ to effectively share their faith with their co-workers. Furthermore, Churches—especially those near universities and high-tech industries—can strengthen their missions outreach and edify their congregations by actively inviting scientists, technicians, and engineers from their communities to church. Learning about the daily lives of scientists¹³ in this way not only shows hospitality and the love of Christ to an “unreached people,” it helps congregations cultivate their own sense of wonder and curiosity about the God’s creation.¹⁴

Considering evolution helps the church engage culture

Os Guinness explains why the church has nothing to fear when considering science. (blog)

Because today’s culture is saturated with science and technology—from the latest communication gadgets to new medical imaging methods to discoveries of fundamental particles and biotechnology—engaging culture means engaging science. Christians should be a compelling and relevant voice on science issues in the public square—especially in discerning appropriate use of new technologies. Many such innovations touch on our understanding of the processes and interrelation of life on earth described by evolutionary science. Especially in the field of bioethics, Christian voices are critical to rightly discerning questions about the development of stem cells, the use of DNA information, and care for the aged and disabled.

But to be compelling and relevant, Christians need to be well-informed. When Christians speak from ignorance about scientific research, we harm the reputation of the whole church and invite mockery. This was an issue even in the days of Saint Augustine (354-386 A.D.), who wrote, “It is a disgraceful and dangerous thing for an unbeliever to hear a Christian, presumably giving the meaning of Holy Scripture, talking nonsense . . . in a field [the unbeliever] himself knows well.” Today, evangelical Christians can show that we love God’s work in the created order, take up full participation in cutting-edge research, and advocate science as a tool to protect rather than prey upon the helpless (Proverbs 6:16-17).

Why should Christians consider evolutionary creation? Because we recognize that nature is God’s creation, declaring the glory, extravagance, and loving care of the Creator; because rightly understanding evolution helps us to refute atheist worldviews and support the faith of those called to explore creation through the sciences; and because it strengthens the voice of Church in the public square.

Monopolizing Knowledge

Science and Scientism

One of the most visible conflicts in current culture is between “scientism” and religion. Because religious knowledge differs from scientific knowledge, scientism claims (or at least assumes) that it must therefore be inferior. However, there are many other important beliefs, secular as well as religious, which are justified and rational, but not scientific, and therefore marginalized by scientism. And if that is so, then scientism is a ghastly intellectual mistake.

But how could it have come about that this mistake is so widespread, if it is a mistake? The underlying reason is that scientism is confused with science. It is natural for readers without inside knowledge of science to assume that science and scientism are one and the same when many leading scientists and science popularizers often speak and act as if they and thus directly promote this confusion. What is more, several major strands within religion also promote this confusion. On the conservative theological wing, science is often rejected because it is confused with scientism, and on the theologically liberal wing scientism is often adopted for the same reason. Whether rejecting or assimilating, religious believers often confuse science and scientism.

Scientism is, first of all, a philosophy of knowledge. It is an opinion about the way that knowledge can be obtained and justified. However, scientism rapidly becomes much more. It becomes an all-encompassing world-view; a perspective from which all of the questions of life are examined: a grounding presupposition or set of presuppositions which provides the framework by which the world is to be understood. In other words, it is essentially a religious position.

The Origins of Scientism

The word science is used with two completely different meanings; confusing the two has a natural tendency to lead to scientism. The historical meaning comes from the word's Latin root, scientia, which means simply knowledge, and indeed the word science was once used to describe any systematic orderly study of a field of knowledge. In today’s common usage, however, "science" refers to the study of the natural world. The "Encyclopédie" (1751-) of Diderot and D'Alembert¹, a classic embodiment of Enlightenment thought, defines the word science to mean knowledge in general, but then focuses on natural science and technology. This is scientism in its youth. Enlightenment writings helped to insinuate scientism as an unacknowledged presupposition into much of the intellectual climate of the succeeding two centuries. From Samuel Johnson's Dictionary (1755), through historians such as Thomas Babington Macaulay (1848), and in vestiges even into the mid twentieth century, "science" was held to refer generally to formal, intellectual learning, yet when specific examples of science are cited these are almost all natural science.

Edward Cheney used his preface to the 1898 edition of Macaulay's history² to criticize him as failing to "treat history as a science". Cheney's attitude is rife with scientism - trying to distinguish between `true' scientific historical knowledge on the one hand, and on the other, literature that fails to qualify as science and hence as true knowledge. As president of the American Historical Society, twenty seven years later, Cheney would champion an explicitly scientistic view of the historian's task as to discover law in history, “... natural laws, which we must accept whether we want to or not, ... laws to be accepted and reckoned with as much as the laws of gravitation, or of chemical affinity” ³ The view is not convincing. The supposed distinction between scientific and unscientific history bears no discernible relationship to the methods of the natural sciences. It is mostly a substitution of “scientific” for "correct" for rhetorical effect.

The continued robustness of scientism is surely partly attributable to this terminological confusion. If science means simply knowledge, then scientism is merely tautologically true. End of story. But if science means a particular type of knowledge, as it does today, then it is essential to recognize that meaning and stick to it. In short what we mean by science today is the inheritance of the Scientific Revolution. In later parts of this series, I shall identify two key defining characteristics of science that encapsulate the two emphases crucial to its development: experimental or natural evidence, and mechanical or mathematical explanation. Before I move on to this task, though, let me pause to address some objections to the whole of my explanatory enterprise.

A Few Possible Objections

One objection that might be raised at this stage is to ask why one should restrict the designation science to the inheritors of the Scientific Revolution. After all, the argument goes, surely we should use whatever strategy is available to discover knowledge. My first answer is immediately to point out that this objection is an example of scientism. It confuses knowledge with science and implies that they are one and the same. I am not at all interested in limiting the ways of obtaining knowledge to those avenues that we call “scientific”. I simply want to be clear that, as a matter of historical fact, science as we commonly conceive it had, and has, a distinctive characteristic approach to methods of discovering and knowing. But why insist on this terminology? Here, my second answer is that science has a well-earned prestige and authority precisely because of its success. This prestige is, of course, one driving force behind the desire of many disciplines to be considered sciences. To use the metaphor of the market today, it is a question of "branding".

A second kind of objection is this: suppose we grant that we will use the word science to mean natural science. Doesn't that just mean the study of nature? So shouldn’t"the study of nature" be our working definition of science then? And if it is, why should one limit the scope of science by an identification of its methods? Surely one should use whatever methods are available to study nature.

My answer is this: the main problem with "the study of nature" as a definition of science is that it simply begs the question: what is nature? We tend to think that "nature" is self-evident; but it isn't. Prior to the Scientific Revolution, nature was populated with gods and teleological imperatives, with intention and purpose. Even in 1686, Robert Boyle (of Boyles' Law) identified eight different senses of the word nature⁴. Boyle's purpose was to deplore the use of, the semi-deity that underwrote Aristotle's physics, which the Scientific Revolution was in the process of superceding, and to replace it with the established order or settled course of things. Moreover, even after the Enlightenment, the romantics such as the poets William Wordsworth and Samuel Taylor Coleridge said that what they were about was the study of nature. Yet no one today would for a moment think to call the poetic understanding of the natural world science. It simply is not adequate to assume that what is meant by nature is obvious.

Instead, I believe, we must use a functional definition of science. Once we have a clear view of what science is, we will have a definition of what we here mean by nature. Nature is what we are studying in natural science. The result of this definition, as we'll see, is entirely consistent with what Boyle was arguing for: the established order or settled course of things.

We will continue this exploration of what we mean by “nature” in the next installment.

Notes

1. Denis Diderot and Jean le Rond d'Alembert, editors. Encyclopédie, ou dictionnaire raisonné des sciences, des arts et des métiers. André Le Breton, Michel-Antoine David, Laurent Durand, and Antoine-Claude Briasson, Paris, 1751-77.
2. Thomas Babbington (Lord) Macaulay. The History of England from the accession of James the second. G. P. Putnam, New York, 1898.
3. Edward P. Cheyney. Presidential address delivered before the american historical association. American Historical Review, 29 (2): 231-48, 1924.
4. Thomas Birch, editor. Robert Boyle,, The Works. Georg Olms Verlangsuchhandlung, Hildsheim, 1966. Volume 5, p167-9.

Quantum Leap: How John Polkinghorne Found God in Science and Religion

In the film Nacho Libre, Jack Black plays a preposterous worker in a Mexican orphanage with a secret life as an incompetent professional wrestler. There is a scene where Black and his scrawny wrestling partner assess their competition – two vicious-looking men in the opposite corner. It appears to Black that his life as a wrestler will end immediately in serious injury. He says to his partner, in a horrible Spanish accent, “Pray to the Lord for strength.”

His partner immediately replies, in only a slightly better accent, “I don’t believe in God. I believe in science.”

While that bit of dialogue appears in a comedy film, it echoes statements made in serious conversations throughout the world. Conventional wisdom seems to say that one either believes in God, or one believes in science. There is no third option.

We don’t believe that at all, and neither does the deep thinker we profile in this book. We hope you won’t either, when you are finished reading. Much has been written about faith and science – the history of supposedly major conflicts and minor harmonies between the two; the rational and irrational accounts from people who read just one of the two books set before us – the Bible and the Book of Nature; the condemnation and condescension of one group toward the other. There is a lot of diatribe, but not much dialogue.

We illuminate this issue by writing about John Polkinghorne. We chose this strategy because it involves a story. What we offer is not a conventional biography of John Polkinghorne. We didn’t read his correspondence, interview his family members, students and colleagues, search data bases for public and private records. Instead, we wrote the story of John Polkinghorne, probably the most significant voice in this generation’s conversation about science and religion. But we also unfold some bigger issues. How do we know Truth? How does a leading scientist think about the more mysterious aspects of faith -- prayer, miracles, life after death, resurrection? How should people of faith approach science, especially when new scientific discoveries appear to contradict their religious beliefs? To get at those questions, we tell the story of John Polkinghorne.

We conducted many interviews with Polkinghorne. Wherever the book shows a quote from him without an endnote, it came from a personal interview. The interviews occurred from 2007-2010 in the following locations: Quincy, Massachusetts; a monastery in Venice, Italy; the President’s Lodge at Queens’ College (while the president was away) in Cambridge, England; the chapels at Trinity College, Queens’ College, Trinity Hall and Westcott Seminary – all in Cambridge; the parlor of Queens’ College; the Senior Combination Room at Queens’ College, under both his own portrait and that of the Queen; the study in his home in Cambridge; the sitting room in his home; walking from the vicarage to his old parish church in Blean, England; in his car to and from Blean; at the Good Shepherd Church in Cambridge; and in pubs throughout Cambridge.

As if to cosmically underscore the need for this book, when we approached Passport Control at London’s Heathrow Airport for a final series of interviews with Polkinghorne, the officer asked why we were coming to England.

“For a conference at Oxford,” we said.

“What’s the conference about?” he said.

“God and Physics,” we said.

“God and Physics, eh?” He paused and looked at us. “Which side are you on?”

Exactly.

Those interested in reading more from John Polkinghorne should view the BioLogos sponsored video, "An Afternoon with John Polkinghorne," which can be found here.

John Polkinghorne remembers the day when some of his colleagues thought he had lost his mind. He was already famous as a physicist for his work in helping explain the existence of quarks and gluons, the world’s smallest known particles. He was a member of England’s Royal Society, one of the highest honors bestowed on a scientist –Isaac Newton is also a member. His students at Cambridge University had likewise moved into leading roles in scientific research.

It was the end of the academic year, and he and some other professors had gathered in his office for a brief meeting. At the conclusion, they gathered their papers, ready to leave.

“Before you go,” Polkinghorne said, “I have something to tell you.”

The tiny audience settled back into their chairs.

“I am leaving the university to enter the priesthood. I will be enrolling in seminary next year.”

There was stunned silence in the room for several seconds, then murmuring, some of it kindly supportive. The lone Scotsman in the audience, an atheist, was both wistful and wary: “You don’t know what you’re doing,” he said. Others later wondered if John Polkinghorne was committing intellectual suicide.

His decision brought to light a much larger question that has been discussed for centuries, well before Darwin and Dawkins: “What Is the Relationship Between Faith and Science?” In the years following this decision to leave the physics world, where he specialized in one kind of unseen realities, and enter the spiritual world where he explored other unseen realities, Polkinghorne has become one of the most significant spokesmen for making the relationship between faith and science one of harmony, not conflict.

He has written more than 30 books on theology and science (and the relationship between the two), served on national boards to determine ethical standards for scientific research, and was knighted by the Queen for his contributions in ethics and science. He is the founding president of the International Society for Science and Religion. He was awarded the Templeton Prize – the highest honor given in regard to the relationship between science and religion. He has studied and lectured on most continents, at the most prestigious locations, including Yale, Princeton, and the Smithsonian Institution, and appears regularly on documentaries regarding the beginning of the universe, Albert Einstein, C.S. Lewis, and countless other topics. He was featured recently on The Science Channel in the U.S. for the program Through the Wormhole, narrated by actor Morgan Freeman.

While much is made in the popular media and some religious circles that one is either a person of science or a person of faith, he has never seen how the two could be in conflict. As both a physicist and a priest, he embraces and embodies both.

One thing that did not change when he moved from academia to ministry was that both involved a quest for truth. In both science and religion he moves from evidence to interpretation to motivated belief or conclusion – a process he calls “bottom-up thinking.”

After serving as a parish priest just up the hill from the Canterbury Cathedral, Polkinghorne returned to the world of academia in Cambridge – first as the dean of chapel, and ultimately as president of Queens’ College until he retired. He continues to study, write and administer the sacraments.

I met Rev. Polkinghorne at a theology conference in Boston in 2007, at the suggestion of an editor who had an idea for a book. The idea was to make the book biographical in form, so that the world could read about the life of this very fascinating man and important thinker. But the book would be bigger than that, too. It would use Rev. Polkinghorne as a launch-point to then discuss bigger questions about the relationship between science and faith. How can a scientist really believe in miracles? How, or why, does a scientist pray? And how could a physicist possibly believe in the Resurrection of Jesus? Behind these questions is, essentially, this one: Aren’t science and faith fundamentally at odds with one another? The answer is no, and the reason is that John Polkinghorne embodies the relationship between the two. I interviewed him at his home in Cambridge several times over the next few years, as well as in Venice, where he was lecturing at a God and Laws of Nature conference at the Venice Institute, and at Oxford, where the entire God and Physics conference was dedicated to Polkinghorne’s work and to commemorate his 80th birthday.

The resulting book, Quantum Leap: How John Polkinghorne Found God in Science and Religion, by Dean Nelson and Karl Giberson, will be released by Lion-Hudson Press of Oxford, in 2011.

The book captures Polkinghorne’s views on the big cosmic questions regarding Evil, the Trinity, Evolution, the Big-Bang Theory, Adam and Eve, Intelligent Design, Atheism, the Resurrection, Salvation, Eternity, and other issues that seem to pit science against faith.

Atheists, especially those in the present realm who sell millions of books, have a faith of their own, Polkinghorne says. It may be faith in selfish competition, in Marxism, or in freedom to live as one pleases without responsibility, but there are often elements of faith, nonetheless. Sometimes the faith is in those who proclaim to not have a faith.

A theme that emerges in both his writings and in personal conversation with Polkinghorne is the phrase “But that’s not the whole story.” Science, life, God, the universe, are always surprising us with something else, or Something Else, he says. So after all these years of research and reflection, Polkinghorne is comfortable with the posture that there is always more. To everything. Looking at the world both through the eye of faith and the eye of science improves the vision over what using just one eye or the other would provide, he says.

He appeared recently at Point Loma Nazarene University in San Diego, where I teach with Darrel Falk of BioLogos. He gave a 30-minute lecture on the relationship between faith and science and then let me interview him for 30 minutes. The interview has the feel of a couple of old friends talking.

“He doesn’t do all the work for you,” said one of his former parishioners. “He’ll discuss things with you and then say, ‘You can do some of this thinking yourself, you know.’”

That’s our hope as you watch this program – you’ll hear some things that will make you want to think more deeply. Because there’s always more to the story.

(I must add an immediate qualification to this brief history: Francis Collins did not work on this project after he moved to the NIH. As is often the case with co-authored works, the authors played different roles. Francis’s contribution was to get the whole FAQ project started and work closely with the original writers and editors on the first round of material, most of which ended up on The BioLogos Forum.)

The Language of Science and Faith shares and even embodies the very inspiration that launched BioLogos—the desire to help people find answers to “Genuine Questions” about relating scientific accounts of origins to their faith in God as creator. As our many visitors to this site know, the “pre-history” of BioLogos was Francis Collins’s publication of The Language of God: A Scientist Presents Evidence for Belief in 2007. The book went on to become a bestseller and even now, almost 4 years later the book continues to be near the top of the best-selling books in its area. As I write these words a few days after Christmas, it is #1 on the “science and religion” list at Amazon, a powerful testimony to both the importance of this topic and the winsome writing style and testimony of its author.

The Language of God told the story of how Francis found harmony between his science and his Christian faith. He is a world-class scientist—leading the Human Genome Project to a successful completion and going on to become the head of the National Institutes of Health, where he presently works. But he is also a committed believer. His story moved readers who were wrestling with questions of faith and science, and seeking the place of rest that Collins had found in his own journey.

Letters and emails poured in, asking Francis for wisdom and insight. Readers wanted to dig deeper. Many asked questions not addressed in The Language of God. Soon Francis was buried in a pile of “Frequently Asked Questions.” Addressing these questions individually was simply not possible, but many of them were passionate and came from people with real struggles. Ignoring them was not an option. BioLogos was Francis’s response to this felt need.

Not surprisingly, the BioLogos website launched with a series of FAQ’s in which various experts helped BioLogos staff writers address key issues in their fields—from biblical studies and theology to the history of science, from biology to physics, and everything in between. The experts included such leading thinkers as Denis Alexander, Jeff Schloss, Owen Gingerich, Darrel Falk, Alister McGrath, Ernest Lucas, Ron Numbers, and Ted Davis.

The FAQ format requires short, stand-alone answers to work well, and it became apparent that there would be value in a more systematic treatment of these issues. The mission of The Language of Science and Faith is to survey these same issues but in a more wide-ranging way that is only possible in a book. By rewriting all of the original material, adding fresh material where needed, and working with the editors at InterVarsity, I have tried to create a coherent and consistent style that will help readers stay with the themes as they unfold.

The book groups topics thematically, allowing a reader to get a global sense of the issues connected to each topic. Throughout the book, we built carefully on each topic, hoping to take the reader by the hand, so to speak, from one topic to the next in a way that would let them dig steadily deeper without feeling like they were getting in over their heads.

The book begins with the evidence for evolution and the great age of the earth. As readers of this blog know very well by now, this evidence is compelling and must be taken seriously. In fact, it is the strength of this very evidence that requires books like this and projects like BioLogos. If the evidence was weak and piecemeal, then we could simply withhold assent and maintain a more traditional view. But the evidence does not let us do that, and we make this case in the first two chapters.

Once we accept this evidence, the questions emerge and are the subject of the next two chapters, which look at ways to relate science and religion in general, and science and scripture in particular. Unless a harmony can be found, there can be no “coming to peace with science” as BioLogos president Darrel Falk titled his wonderful book on this topic. We believe, of course, that harmony can be found, and we lay out that case. But this leads to another question: If harmony can be found so readily, why is Darwin’s theory of evolution so controversial?

The controversy surrounding Darwin’s theory is a complex sociological and cultural problem, which we unfold in a chapter. From atheists who want evolution to be a weapon against religion, to biblical literalists who want the Bible to be a weapon against evolution, there is no shortage of people with agendas to create controversy.

The constant presence of controversy creates the impression that this discussion is an endless quarrel. This is far from true, and we include a chapter on the fine-tuning of the universe to make exactly that point. The many features of our universe that are fine-tuned for life do not explain themselves and, while we caution against leaping to the conclusion that “God is the explanation for fine-tuning,” we do suggest that the universe appears to have the sort of deeply rational, purposeful character that a Christian would expect, even before looking at it from the perspective of science.

The final chapter, titled “The Grand Narrative of Creation,” offers a speculative look at the scientific creation story through biblical and theological lenses. We suggest, tentatively, that the affirmations Christians want to make on behalf of Genesis resonate nicely with what science has discovered about origins.

The Language of Science and Faith does not seek to break new scholarly ground. Our target audience is the evangelical church—the tens of millions of Bible-believing Christians who are prepared to engage contemporary science, rather than simply reject it. We were thus quite thrilled when Dr. Joel C. Hunter -- pastor of the Northland Church in Longwood, Florida, an enthusiastic participant in our New York Workshops, and one of America’s religious leaders -- gave us this endorsement for the cover of the book:

"As a pastor, I am constantly searching for resources that will guide people to the fullness of God. I care that my congregation be attracted toward God's artistry, moved by his majesty and intellectually challenged by his sovereignty. This book is at the top of my recommendations both as an evaluation of theories of creation and as a devotional that prompts us to revere the Creator."

Over the course of the next few weeks, I will be offering reflections on the development of this book, some excerpts, as well as exploring some of the themes of the book in greater detail.

Be sure to bookmark the new landing page for The Language of Science and Faith to stay up to date with the latest news about the book!

The varied ways in which this can occur have recently been documented by a group of historians of science, philosophers and theologians in a volume entitled Biology and Ideology – From Descartes to Dawkins (Denis R. Alexander and Ronald L. Numbers, eds., Chicago University Press, 2010). The thirteen essays in this volume illustrate the many and varied ways in which biology has been utilized for a wide range of political, religious, and social purposes from 1600 to the present day. The purposes may be beneficial, benign, or harmful in their outcomes, but all are “ideological” in the broadest sense of not being intrinsic to biology itself.

With the benefit of hindsight, historians—more than others—are in a good position to see how biology can be used for purposes beyond science in ways not always obvious at the time. The 20th century abuses of genetics in eugenics and in racist ideologies are obvious and thoroughly described in the present volume by writers such as the historians Edward Larson and Paul Weindling.

Less obvious are the subtle ways in which the same biological ideas have been used during the same period for quite opposite ideological purposes in different countries, as described by Shirley Roe and Peter Hanns Reill in their chapters on the 18th century. The supposedly ‘materialistic’ biology that in France was utilized by the philosophes to subvert the social order in the 18th century was in Britain used as a key resource for natural theology, whereas in Germany it was being used politically as an analogy for the structure of nation states.

Today the ideological uses of biology continue on as much as they ever did. In his chapter titled “Creationism, intelligent design, and modern biology,” Ronald Numbers describes how the biological theory of evolution has been invested with ideological overtones, particularly in North America, ever since Darwin published his On the Origin of Species in 1859. For some evolution became a philosophy that threatened to undermine notions of man “made in the image of God.” For others, evolution became a political threat to the social order, subverting campaigns to achieve greater rights for the oppressed.

This was particularly the case for the President Obama who never was: the thrice-defeated Democratic candidate for the presidency of the United States and campaigner for liberal reform, William Jennings Bryan (1860-1925). Early in 1922, as Numbers recounts, Bryan helped to launch a crusade aimed at driving evolution out of the churches and schools of America. But Bryan’s motivation was as much political as religious. He had become alarmed by the way that the philosophy of “might is right” reputedly fueled German militaristic ambitions during the First World War. Benjamin Kidd’s Science of Power (1918), a book that influenced Bryan, purported to demonstrate the historical and philosophical links between Darwinism and German militarism.

It was Bryan’s campaign that helped launch the creationist movement of the early 1920s, leading in turn to the infamous Scopes Trial of 1925. The movement benefitted from another leading campaigner of the same era, the Canadian Adventist George McCready Price, who agreed with Bryan that the First World War, during which Germany put “the ruthless ethics of Darwinism . . . into actual practice,” provided ample evidence of the threat evolution posed to human freedom.

What Numbers brings out so clearly in his chapter is the way in which the theory of evolution was socially transformed into a bogeyman for virtually anyone who had an axe to grind. Rather than simply explaining the origins of biological diversity, it became an icon of materialism, or militarism, or atheism, or socialism, or capitalism. In fact evolution has been deployed since 1859 in support of almost every “ism” that exists, many of them mutually exclusive. All kinds of ideological barnacles became attached to the theory to the extent that the actual biology was obscured in the process.

Numbers goes on to document the way in which the late-20th century Intelligent Design movement likewise painted evolution in starkly atheistic terms, perceiving it as a materialistic threat to notions of design. Ironically, as Alister McGrath makes clear in his chapter entitled ‘Evolutionary biology in recent atheist apologetics’, the presentation of evolution by the ‘new atheists’ is in fact very similar to that of the creationists and proponents of Intelligent Design.

In the hands of Richard Dawkins, evolution becomes an ultra-Darwinian philosophy in rivalry with the idea of creation. Dawkins argues that there are at present only three possible ways of seeing the world: Darwinism, Lamarckism, or God. The last two fail to explain the world adequately; the only option is therefore Darwinism. “I’m a Darwinist,” writes Dawkins, “because I believe the only alternatives are Lamarckism or God, neither of which does the job as an explanatory principle. Life in the universe is either Darwinian or something else not yet thought of.” In such claims, McGrath notes, evolution becomes exalted to a meta narrative, infused with the ideological rhetoric of atheism.

What Biology and Ideology – From Descartes to Dawkins brings out so forcefully is the point that there “is nothing new under the sun.” As soon as a scientific idea or theory becomes influential and prestigious, then the tendency is for its prestige to be deployed for uses that go well beyond science. And where those uses go in apparently polar opposite directions, as in the comparison between creationism/ID and ultra-Darwinism, the opposite poles are often more similar to each other than either side might be prepared to admit.

The ideological uses and abuses of science are bad for science education, because so often the science gets lost in the rhetoric. They can be dangerous, as this volume so powerfully illustrates. They are also bad for religion, because scientific theories are always provisional, open to refutation, and simply not up to the herculean task of deployment for pro- or anti-religious arguments. Darwinian evolution, for example, just happens to be the inference to the best explanation for the origins of all the biological diversity on planet earth. It’s a stunningly successful theory, but it’s best just to let scientific theories do the job that they’re good at, and not invest them with ideologies that have nothing to do with the science.

Biology and Ideology – From Descartes to Dawkins (Denis R. Alexander and Ronald L. Numbers, eds., Chicago University Press, 2010) is available from all good bookstores. The book, as well as Alexander's book Creation or Evolution: Do We Have to Choose?, can be purchased online at www.faraday-institute.org at a discounted rate.

“According to scientific materialism, reality is ultimately impersonal… though this view of existence proved initially liberating in that it released humans from any sense of obligation to an externally imposed system of morality, it has also proved profoundly and literally dispiriting. If the conscious realities that comprise our personhood have no lasting existence, if life and mind are nothing more than unintended ephemera of the material cosmos, then, as the existential philosophers have recognized, our lives can have no lasting meaning or ultimate purpose. Without a purpose driven universe, there can be no ‘purpose-driven life.’”¹

Meyer, then, seems to be highly motivated to articulate an apologetic to counter the purposeless he sees in “materialistic” explanations.

In contrast, adopting an EC/BioLogos – type approach means being willing to give up an anti-evolutionary apologetic. Accepting that God created through what we observe as a natural process deflates any attempt to argue for His existence based on natural phenomena that science has yet to explain. For a dyed-in-the-wool presuppositional apologist, this is madness. Still, we’ve been here before. Preaching a “crucified Messiah” had what can only be described as negative apologetics value for Paul: it was foolishness for Gentiles and a serious stumbling block for Jews.

With these thoughts in mind, I was pleased to meet author Rachel Held Evans² at the BioLogos conference earlier this month. (You can see her thoughts on the meeting here). Rachel grew up in Dayton Tennessee, home of the infamous Scopes Monkey trial of 1925. Rachel attended Bryan College (named in honor of William Jennings Bryan, the prosecutor that convicted schoolteacher John Scopes of teaching evolution); she is the daughter of a Bryan professor; Kurt Wise was one of her instructors. In short, she grew up in a world firmly devoted to anti-evolutionary Christian apologetics.

Evolving in Monkey Town is the story of how cracks begin to appear in the façade of Rachel’s comfortable world, with its ready answers for difficult questions. Eventually, most of what she has known comes crashing down around her, leaving her to sort through the pieces and reevaluate what being a Jesus-follower is all about.

Her descent into doubt is a poignant section of the book:

“On the outside, I embodied all the expectations I had for myself going into college. I was confident, articulate, ready to change the world. But on the inside, something different was happening. I started to have doubts.

You might say that the apologetics movement had created a monster. I’d gotten so good at critiquing all the fallacies of opposing worldviews, at searching for truth through objective analysis, that it was only a matter of time before I turned the same skeptical eye upon my own faith.”

As her story unfolds, we journey with her as she asks the hard questions: what exactly is orthodox Christianity, and what are merely “false fundamentals”? Does the faith stand or fall with a literal interpretation of Genesis? How can a loving God be reconciled with the genocides He commands in the Old Testament? Is there a place for mystery, paradox and tension when you’ve been raised on a worldview claiming certainty? And after the dust settles, what about this Jesus character, anyway?

What sets Evolving in Monkey Town apart is that it takes the abstract ideas discussed in more scholarly works and incarnates them in a person. Where other books strive to reach an answer, we join with Rachel as she struggles to find a way to live in the questions. This work is significant not because it advances scholarly dialogue on the topics it covers (though strangely, it does that too) but because Rachel is a representative voice that an apologetics-infatuated church desperately needs to hear. How does faith survive when what one took for granted as part-and-parcel of the faith evaporates? Is there a place where those “Already Gone” can come back to Jesus?

What really made this book stand out for me was the refreshing honesty and depth of the story. It drew me in, hooked me early, and it didn’t let go. Most science/faith/worldview/Biblical interpretation books aren’t exactly page-turners (sorry Pete). This one is: I read it straight through in one sitting (it’s over 200 pages) and felt it ended far too quickly. It’s deep enough for the scholar’s shelf and easily engaging enough for the beach. I didn’t think I’d ever put a book in that category. It’s delightfully well-written, funny, and keenly insightful. I laughed, I cried, I bought the T-shirt. If you read one book on the science/faith continuum this summer, this is the one you should read. Y’all get yourselves over to Rachel’s blog and order one.

To read more about Rachel's faith journey, see her recent blog.

Notes

1. Signature in the Cell p. 449.

2. I’ve always enjoyed noting folks who have proper sentences for names. In her case, that’s the best reason I’ve seen for keeping a maiden name as part of a married name!

We all love survival stories, which is perhaps why I like to compare my own faith journey to one--though with considerably less blood and suspense.

You see, my faith shouldn’t be alive. By all accounts, it should have perished the moment I started asking questions about faith and science. All my life I’d been taught that I had to choose—between believing the Bible and believing my science book, between honoring God and embracing evolution. To accept one was to effectively kill the other, I learned. They couldn’t both survive. They were incompatible.

And yet here I am—a girl who loves Jesus and accepts evolution, alive to tell the tale.

Survival stories usually begin in a dramatic setting, and mine is no different. For most of my life I’ve lived in Dayton, Tennessee, home of the famous Scopes Monkey Trial of 1925. Located in the buckle of the Bible Belt, Dayton is not the most convenient place to question a literal interpretation of Genesis. Most people here believe that evolution is part of an anti-Christian worldview, and the wounds from getting called “yokels” and “ignorants” by the press during the trial are still being nursed today.

I attended a small Christian college in town named after William Jennings Bryan, where one of the most popular professors at the time was a leading young earth creationist. This professor often told the story of how, as a sophomore in high school, he had dreams of becoming a scientist, but could not reconcile the theory of evolution with the creation account found in the Bible. So one night, he took a pair of scissors and a newly-purchased Bible and began cutting out every verse he believed would have to be removed to believe in evolution. By the time he was finished, he said he couldn’t even lift the Bible without it falling apart. That was when he decided, “Either Scripture was true and evolution was wrong or evolution was true and I must toss out the Bible.”

Having operated within this paradigm for so much of my life, I experienced a major crisis of faith when I encountered the overwhelming scientific evidence in support of evolutionary theory soon after graduating from college.

On the one hand, I felt betrayed. Pastors and teachers had assured me that science supported a 6,000-year-old earth and that only atheists with an agenda against Christianity believed it was older. And yet everything from the fossil record to biodiversity to starlight to DNA seemed to confirm evolutionary theory as sound, with the overwhelming majority scientists affirming it.

On the other hand, I was afraid to accept undeniable truth I’d encountered. I didn’t want to walk away from my faith. I didn’t want to throw out the Bible. I didn’t want to reject God. But everything I’d been told up to that point led me to believe I had to choose. Doubt is difficult to describe to those who have never experienced it. What’s most frightening about it is how one question leads to another, which leads to another, which leads to another, creating a sort of domino effect out of your skepticism and fear. I lay awake for hours at night, struggling with this conflict between my intellectual integrity and my faith. I begged God to “help me in my unbelief,” but His presence seemed to drift farther and farther away with every seemingly irreconcilable conflict between reason and faith.

I thought for sure my faith was a goner.

The first rescue helicopter came in the form of Francis Collins’ “The Language of God.” A friend recommended it, and it was the first time I’d ever read the work of a scientist so passionately committed to both his Christian faith and accepted science. The fact that it was even possible to be a Christian and believe in evolution gave me hope.

In the third chapter, Collins includes a quote from St. Augustine, who—centuries before Darwin made his landmark observations—warned Christians against interpreting the first two chapters of Genesis too strictly. Said Augustine, “In matters that are so obscure and far beyond our vision, we find in Holy Scripture passages which can be interpreted in very different ways without prejudice to the faith we have received. In such cases, we should not rush in headlong and so firmly take our stand on one side that, if further progress in search for truth justly undermines this position, we too fall with it.”¹

That was when I realized that my hyper-literalist interpretation of Genesis 1-2 was going down, and it was taking my faith with it.

I couldn’t let that happen.

So like a survivor cutting off his arm to escape from beneath a boulder, I severed my fundamentalist approach to Scripture. (Okay, so it wasn’t really that dramatic. Let’s just say I spent some time on the BioLogos site, ordered “The Lost World of Genesis One” by John Walton, and managed to survive the faith crisis with my love for God and for the Bible intact.)

So why tell my story?

Because I wasn’t alone out there in the wilderness of doubt, and not everyone’s faith survived. I have friends who walked away from their Christian faith right when their gifts and talents could have served it best. They walked away because they thought being a Christian demanded willful ignorance and fear of truth. They walked away because they felt betrayed by their pastors, parents, and professors. They walked away because they believed the lie that they had to choose.

And that makes me angry sometimes.

It seems like for every survival story, there is a story of loss…which is why I believe the BioLogos Foundation is so important. We’ve got to work together to reverse this trend. We’ve got to send out more rescue helicopters to young people around the country who are desperately holding on to what remains of their faith. These are unnecessary casualties of an unnecessary war, and the simple knowledge that faith and science can coexist can be enough to bring a lost soul back from the brink.

My faith shouldn’t be alive.

But it is, and not a day goes by that I am not grateful for the gift of a second chance.

Rachel's book Evolving in Monkey Town is available on Amazon. To hear about Rachel's journey, see our video conversation with her (below).

As an historian of science, I belong to a small, somewhat esoteric club. Although there are dozens of colleges and universities within 75 miles of my own, there are no more than half a dozen faculty with similar expertise at all of those institutions combined. If we focus more narrowly on my particular specialty - the history of science and Christianity - then I am probably alone in Central and Eastern Pennsylvania.

Because we are rare birds, our influence outside of our own nests has usually been minimal, especially when it comes to science and religion - an area that seems to invite comments from anyone and everyone, whether or not they actually know anything about it. Our collective anonymity may now be changing, however, with the publication of a splendid new book from Harvard University Press, Galileo Goes to Jail and Other Myths about Science and Religion. The editor, Ronald L. Numbers, a former president of both the History of Science Society and the American Society of Church History, is a religious agnostic whose scholarship on the history of American religion and science is marked by meticulous accuracy and impartiality.

For a quarter century, Numbers and his colleague at the University of Wisconsin, David C. Lindberg, have led the way in challenging the commonly received view that the history of science and religion is best seen in terms of an ongoing, inevitable conflict, with science winning the war for cultural and epistemic territory. Although the conflict view ultimately derives from the European Enlightenment, its most influential expression was American. This is one of those cases in which you can judge the books by their covers - or, at least, by their titles. In 1874, NYU chemist John William Draper published his History of the Conflict between Religion and Science, and in 1896 the first president of Cornell, Andrew Dickson White, published A History of the Warfare of Science with Theology in Christendom. It is hard to say which one is worse, in terms of its scholarship, but my vote goes to White. Although he was a trained historian, White seems to have consulted primary sources about as often as he watched television. Consequently, his book is chock full of manufactured "facts," invented or misattributed "quotations," and unsupportable interpretations. Draper is not a great deal better, yet both books remain widely influential today, perhaps partly because the shoddy scholarship and outright nonsense they contain is central to the apologetics of contemporary unbelief. Why else would White's contribution to historical fiction be available for free download at infidels.org and Draper's book at positiveatheism.org?

The twenty-five authors in Numbers' book - one for each of the short, pithy chapters - serve writ on the conflict thesis and its legacy. Many contributors, including Numbers and Lindberg, are major players in the history of science, and at least two will be known to many readers who rarely venture into the field: Edward Larson, whose book on the Scopes trial won the Pulitzer Prize in History, and Michael Ruse, a distinguished philosopher and historian who often writes for general audiences. (Full disclosure: I wrote the chapter on Isaac Newton, but I do not mean to imply that I am a major player and my enthusiasm for the book would be undiminished if I had not contributed to it.) Twelve contributors are agnostics or atheists (by their own statements) and eight are Christians, so charges of advancing a clear ideological agenda will not stick. All of us wrote with ordinary readers, not specialists, in mind, making this a truly rare book: where else can you find such authoritative scholarship delivered so accessibly and fairly on such an important subject?

In effect, this book delivers a public obituary for the warfare view, which has been dead among historians for decades - though many scientists, journalists, and others who know far less about the topic apparently missed the funeral. In fact, the real history of religion and science is too complex, with too many important subtleties and significant mutual interactions, to be captured by any simple metaphor - not conflict, not harmony, nor any other single word that comes to mind. The people who actually lived through the events - those we historians call the "actors" themselves - very often saw things quite differently from the ways in which we've usually been told they saw them, or must have seen them.

How will all this go down? Whenever historians engage in debunking popular misconceptions, there are always people who want to shoot the messenger rather than to accept the truth of the message - especially when the truth of a given misconception is important to one's faith commitment. Numerous reviews by people from a range of faith commitments are readily available online; a detailed survey of their content is an exercise I leave to the reader. Those who need the warfare myth acknowledge the evidence but deny its significance; the facts about historical incidents are irrelevant to the logic of the arguments made now, they say, and anyone with half a brain knows that science is always triumphant over religion. Perhaps I ought to be more respectful: those whose minds are made up ought not to be confused by exposure to the facts.

The Cambrian Explosion is often posed as a challenge for evolution because the sudden burst of change in the fossil record appears to be inconsistent with the more typical gradual pace of evolutionary change. However, although different in certain ways, there are other times of very rapid evolutionary change recorded in the fossil record -- often following times of major extinction. The Cambrian Explosion does present a number of challenging and important questions because it represents the time during which the main branches of the animal tree of life became established. It does not create a challenge to the fundamental correctness of the central thesis of evolution, the descent of all living species from a common ancestor. This important period in the history of life extended over millions of years, plenty of time for the evolution of these new body plans (phyla) to occur. Furthermore, the fossil record provides numerous examples of organisms that appear transitional between living phyla and their common ancestors. The ongoing research about the Cambrian period is an exciting opportunity to advance our understanding of how evolutionary processes work, and the environmental factors shaping them.

The major animal body plans that appeared in the Cambrian Explosion did not include the appearance of modern animal groups such as: starfish, crabs, insects, fish, lizards, birds and mammals. These animal groups all appeared at various times much later in the fossil record.³ The forms that appeared in the Cambrian Explosion were more primitive than these later groups, and many of them were soft-bodied organisms. However, they did include the basic features that define the major branches of the tree of life to which later life forms belong. For example, vertebrates are part of the Chordata group. The chordates are characterized by a nerve cord, gill pouches and a support rod called the notochord. In the Cambrian fauna, we first see fossils of soft-bodied creatures with these characteristics. However, the living groups of vertebrates appeared much later. It is also important to realize that many of the Cambrian organisms, although likely near the base of major branches of the tree of life, did not possess all of the defining characteristics of modern animal body plans. These defining characteristics appeared progressively over a much longer period of time.⁴

Interpretations of the “Cambrian Explosion”

Not all scientists accept the idea that the Cambrian Explosion represents an unusually rapid evolutionary transition. The fossil record is notoriously incomplete, particularly for small and soft-bodied forms. Some researchers argue that the apparent rapid diversification of body plans is an artifact of an increase in the rate of fossilization, due in part to the evolution of skeletons, which fossilize more effectively.⁵ Many of the early Cambrian animals possessed some type of hard mineralized structures (spines, spicules, plates, etc.). In many cases these, often very tiny, mineralized structures are all that are found as fossils. There were major changes in marine environments and chemistry from the late Precambrian into the Cambrian, and these also may have impacted the rise of mineralized skeletons among previously soft-bodied organisms. ⁶

Most scientists are persuaded that something significant happened at the dawn of the Cambrian era and view the Cambrian Explosion as an area of exciting and productive research. For example, scientists are now gaining a better understanding of what existed before the Cambrian Explosion as a result of new fossil discoveries. Recent discoveries are filling in the fossil record for the Precambrian fauna with soft-bodied organisms like those in the Ediacaran Assemblages found around the world.⁷ Late Precambrian fossil discoveries also now include representatives of sponges, cnidarians (the group that includes modern jellyfish, corals and anemones), mollusks and various wormlike groups. Some of the new fossil discoveries, in fact, appear to be more primitive precursors of the later Cambrian body plans. The discovery of such precursors shows that the Cambrian organisms did not appear from thin air.⁸ Further discoveries will no doubt reveal more clearly the relationship of Precambrian organisms with the creatures found in the Burgess Shale and Chengjiang deposits.⁹

Genomic studies provide further insights into the origins of the Cambrian Explosion. Although the genetic divergence of organisms would have preceded the recognition of new body plans in the fossil record, accumulating genomic data is broadly consistent with the fossil record.¹⁰ Both point to the rise of the bilateria (bilaterally symmetric invertebrate animals) in the latest Precambrian Ediacaran, and their ecological explosion in diversity in the Cambrian.

Unanswered Questions

The sudden change of the Cambrian Era was, in relative terms, not too sudden for the process of evolution. The changes during the Cambrian Era did not occur over decades, centuries, or even thousands of years; they occurred over millions of years—plenty of time for evolutionary change. However, for millions of years beforehand, body plans of animals had remained relatively constant. Not until this time period did a significant change occur. The remaining questions are: What triggered the Cambrian Explosion? And why did so much change occur at this time? Several different theories address the origin of the Cambrian Explosion, proposing that dramatic environmental changes must have opened up new niches for natural selection to operate upon. These proposals include the runaway glaciation theory,¹¹ which proposes that glaciers briefly covered much of the earth, and the resultant loss of habitat created bottlenecks where evolution could act more rapidly. Another theory suggests that a change in atmospheric oxygen led to this sudden burst in evolutionary changes.¹² Yet another proposal is that major changes in the seafloor, from algae mat-covered surfaces in the late Precambrian to soft muddy bottoms later in the Cambrian, had dramatic evolutionary and ecological impacts.¹³

The Cambrian Era Fossils, Providing Answers

While the causes of the Cambrian Explosion remain a topic of open and exciting debate, the continued fossil discoveries from the Cambrian and Precambrian Eras are bringing more clarity to the evolutionary puzzle. These fossils provide valuable insight, particularly for envisioning the common ancestors of diverse groups. For instance, both vertebrates (fish) and echinoderms (sea urchins, starfish) are part of the group called deuterostomes. Without fossil evidence, it is hard to envision what a common ancestor would look like for these very different creatures. The Cambrian fossils are filling in the picture.¹⁴

When scientists investigate God’s creation, they find that humans appear very late in the history of life. The fossil record shows that many creatures died long before humans appeared. In fact, many entire species went extinct millions of years ago (the dinosaurs are the most famous example), long before humans lived or sinned.

See “What does the Fossil Record Show?” and “How are the ages of the Earth and universe calculated?”

Yet God’s revelation in scripture paints a different picture. Several key scripture passages teach that death is a consequence of sin, including Genesis 2:16-17, Genesis 3:19,22, Romans 5:12-21, and 1 Corinthians 15. How should we think about these passages in light of the scientific evidence? Could animals have died before human sin? Does “death” in these passages refer to physical death, or spiritual death, or sometimes one and sometimes the other? To ponder these questions, we need to consider God’s revelation in scripture and God’s revelation in nature. The scientific evidence is discussed in other Questions, as are the topics of the fall and sin (see sidebars). Here we consider what scripture says about death and how the two revelations might be reconciled.

See “How does original sin fit with evolutionary history?”

Animal Death

The Bible passages that teach about sin and death are clearly referring to the death of humans. Do these passages also refer to animals? Thomas Aquinas (1225-1274) didn’t think so. He believed that God’s original creation included animals that killed each other, writing that “the nature of animals was not changed by man’s sin.”¹ Pastor Daniel Harrell makes a logical argument for animal death, writing that “there had to be death in the Garden, otherwise Adam would have been overrun by bugs and bacteria long before he took that forbidden bite of fruit.”² Animal death is also necessary to maintain population levels in a balanced ecosystem (see below for more). Some Bible passages portray predatory animals as part of God’s original plan for creation (Job 38:39-41, 39:29-30, Psalm 104:21,29). Other passages speak of the “wolf laying down with the lamb” instead of killing the lamb (Isaiah 11:6-7, Isaiah 65:25), but these verses refer to the future kingdom of God, not the original creation. While animal death and suffering raises other theological questions (see Sidebar), it does not contradict Biblical teaching about death as a consequence of sin.

See “How does the evil and suffering in the world align with the idea of a loving God?”

Human death: physical or spiritual?

One traditional interpretation of Genesis 2-3 is that sin results in physical death. Humans would have been immortal without sin. In Genesis 2:17, God warns Adam and Eve, “But of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil you shall not eat, for in the day that you eat you shall die.” In Genesis 3:19, God carries out this punishment, cursing Adam with labor and death, “By the sweat of your brow you will eat your food until you return to the ground, since from it you were taken; for dust you are and to dust you will return.” In 1 Corinthians 15 Paul contrasts and compares Christ and Adam, highlighting Adam’s fall as the cause of physical death for the whole human race.

John Calvin, however, suggested that Adam’s sin caused the abrupt painful death that we experience today, a wrenching apart of the physical and spiritual aspects of humans. Calvin seems to have thought that if Adam had not sinned, a more gentle kind of physical death or “passing” from life into life would have occurred: “Truly the first man would have passed to a better life, had he remained upright; but there would have been no separation of the soul from the body, no corruption, no kind of destruction, and, in short, no violent change.”³ In this view, humans were created mortal, but intended for long healthy lives and graceful deaths, such as described in Isaiah 65:20-25. The Old Testament speaks of death at the end of a long life in purely positive terms, such as 1 Chronicles 29:28 where King David “died at a good old age, having enjoyed long life, wealth, and honor.”

Another interpretation of these passages is that the consequence of sin is spiritual death, not physical death. If Adam had not sinned, humans would still have died like we do today, but without “the sense of loss, uncertainty about an afterlife, … and regret for unfinished work” that comes with spiritual death.⁴ Agemir de Carvalho Dias, Presbyterian pastor and teacher of the Evangelical College of Parana, Brazil, writes that “the death that entered the world with Adam is understood as something that takes man apart from God, a spiritual death, in the sense that the access to God is now closed and can be restored only through faith.”⁵ Of course some sins still bring about physical death, such as Abel’s death at Cain’s hand, and the death of King David’s infant son after the king’s adultery (2 Samuel 12:13-14).

The text of Genesis 2-3 can support an interpretation of the curse as spiritual death. In the curse of Genesis 3:19, God tells Adam “for dust you are and to dust you will return,” implying that Adam was created mortal from the dust. God warned Adam and Eve that they would die in the day they ate from the tree, and yet Adam lived to the age of 930 (Genesis 5:5). What did happen on the day they ate from the tree? Adam and Eve felt shame and were expelled from the Garden, breaking their fellowship with God – spiritual death.

Weren’t Adam and Eve immortal, created as perfect ideal human beings? This is a popular idea, but not clear in the Biblical text. The first humans are described as “very good” and pleasing to God (Genesis 1:30-31), but not as perfect or with superhuman abilities. Also, consider the Tree of Life. God planted this tree in the garden before the fall (Genesis 2:9) and it gives immortality to the one who eats it (Genesis 3:22). If God created humans as immortal, what was the purpose of the Tree of Life? It would only be needed if humans were mortal to begin with.⁶

In the New Testament, Paul writes much on the relationship between sin and death. Sometimes Paul was clearly referring to spiritual death (Romans 6:1-14, 7:11), and other times clearly to physical death (1 Corinthians 15:35-42). Yet even in 1 Corinthians 15, Paul writes of the eternal life in Christ as something much more than the mere earthly life we experience now, implying that “death” also refers to much more than mere physical death. This is more explicit in Romans 5:12-21 where death is contrasted with the gifts of grace, justification, and righteousness, i.e. the new spiritual life provided by Jesus’ victory.

See “Were Adam and Eve Historical Figures?” which discusses the issue of death and the identity of Adam and Eve

Could physical death be part of God’s original plan?

The Garden of Eden has a reputation as a perfect place, with no death, pain, or even danger for humans or animals. Yet Genesis only teaches that the original creation is “good”, not “perfect.” Some verses in Genesis 1-2 suggest that God’s creation was not safe or pain-free. D. C. Spanner points out that God charged humanity to “subdue” (Genesis 1:28), a word that implies danger.⁷ Also, Genesis 2 places Adam and Eve in a garden; in the ancient near east, this was a walled enclosure, protecting the inhabitants from the wilderness and dangerous animals beyond. The Bible is clear that the culmination of God’s plan in the new creation is a place without tears, pain, or death (Revelation 21:4), but is less clear whether the first creation shared these traits.

The death of plants and animals is actually an essential feature in a healthy ecosystem. Plants provide food for animals, and animals return nutrients to the soil upon their deaths. Without predators, populations of some species would explode and crowd out others, maybe even pushing those species to extinction. Predators tend to pick the most populous species to eat, limiting its growth so that other species can compete successfully.⁸

It is more difficult to see human death in a positive light. For those who have lost a loved one, death can feel like the ultimate evil.⁹ Jesus mourned the death of his friend Lazarus (John 11), after all. Paul writes of death as the paycheck for sin (Romans 6:23) and as the last enemy to be destroyed (1 Corinthians 15:26). The New Testament seems to emphasize death as an evil because it is incompatible with the kind of life promised in the fulfilled kingdom of God. Jesus’ earthly ministry signified the arrival of that future kingdom of God into the present age, but we still live in a world in which the kingdom has not been fully realized. Thus the continuing reality of physical death clashes with the promise of the redeemed future. Only when believers are clothed with their new resurrection bodies will death be finally conquered.

Yet death also appears in the Bible as the utmost expression of love—part of God’s plan for ushering in that new kingdom. Jesus said that the greatest love one can show is to lay down one’s life for another (John 15:13). He then proceeded to lay down his own life for us while we were still sinners (Romans 5:6-8). Christianity holds up the cross as the supreme demonstration of sacrificial love. Jesus said, “Unless a kernel of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains only a single seed. But if it dies, it produces many seeds” (John 12:23-25). Jesus thus pointed to the role of death in a healthy ecosystem as a parable for the importance of His own death. Just as the death of an organism allows for the rebirth and flourishing of life, so the death of Jesus leads to a rebirth and new life for Jesus’ followers. Perhaps the biological death in the evolutionary epic was not a purposeless waste, but a hint at the way God redeems the negativity of death for the sake of new life.

Behe suggests that the parts of irreducibly complex biological structures would be useless unless they appear all together, and evolution has no mechanism to build complex structures like this. Natural selection, after all, works just one step at a time. Furthermore, natural selection has no foresight. Put simply, if a change is going to be preserved, that change will generally need to confer some extra benefit—no matter how small—to the next generation. Behe has oversimplified things a little. Evolutionary theory predicts that in small populations, neutral changes—and even changes that are slightly deleterious—will survive sometimes. Still, in general, he is correct. So let’s examine what evolutionary biologists believe about how complex structures are built.

A Seemingly “Irreducibly Complex” System

As Scott Gilbert shows in his textbook Developmental Biology, Eighth Edition, the evolution of the interconnecting bones of the middle ear illustrates how supposedly irreducibly complex structures can in fact be generated by the stepwise process of gradual change and natural selection. Fish, for example, have a special system called the lateral line system that extends along the length of their bodies and enables them to detect vibrations in the water. They also have an inner ear, which is useful for balance and supplements the lateral line system in detecting vibrations. With the movement of certain water-dwelling species to land, the lateral line system became obsolete because what was needed was a way of amplifying the vibrations in air, not water. A bone that had previously been used as a support for the skull became the stapes. Along with supporting the skull, the stapes also transmitted sound vibrations—which come in part through the skull and jaw—to the inner ear. How do we know it’s the same bone? By examining its embryological origin in fish and reptiles. In reptiles, there is just one bone that transmits air vibrations to the inner ear: the stapes.

We can also trace the origin of the two other middle ear bones, the incus and malleus, by looking at fossils from the time of the origin of mammals about 230 million years ago. Until that point, two bones—the articular and quadrate bones—served as the hinge of the jaw. Investigators, however, believe they carried out a second function. Because they were located adjacent to the stapes, it is likely they also aided in transmitting sound vibrations to the stapes.

Here is where the story gets especially interesting. Right at the time of the origin of mammals it turns out there were several species—perhaps many, paleontologists are sure they don’t have all of the transitional species preserved in the fossil record—that had a double hinge at the jaw. Not only did the articular/quadrate bones serve as a hinge, but another pair of bones, the dental/squamosal bones, served that purpose as well. So the articular/quadrate bones, which transmitted sound, no longer had to also serve as a jaw-hinge. This second function became redundant because there was another set of bones doing the same thing.

With that redundancy, the articular/quadrate bones of the jaw were free to become the incus/malleus of the middle ear. We have a record of the transition, and we have a record of the building of a so-called irreducibly complex structure. Parts that were initially used for one function became, for a period of time, useful for two functions. Then, one function was refined while the other function became redundant or unnecessary. In other words, parts that were initially used for one purpose become co-opted for another purpose; and looking back through the fossil record, we can see the intermediates.

The Bacterial Flagellum

In Darwin’s Black Box, Behe focuses on three things he considers to be irreducibly complex: the bacterial flagellum, the blood clotting cascade and the immune system. The elements of these systems are molecular in nature and therefore the evolutionary intermediates are somewhat harder to document. Interacting molecules are not preserved for historical analysis like fossil bones of the skull and middle ear. In his book, Behe suggests that biochemistry gives no clue as to how complex interacting parts like these might have come about, and he confidently states that investigations have run up against a blank wall.

It has now been 13 years since Darwin’s Black Box was written. The structures and processes Behe chose to focus on have been studied quite extensively. Although it is impossible to go back and analyze step by step what actually did happen, much evidence for straightforward evolutionary explanations has accumulated over the years. The diversity in a given structure that we see when we compare different species tells us a great deal about how that structure might have come about.

Consider the bacterial flagellum, the example most commonly used to illustrate the principle of irreducible complexity. First, it is important to point out that the bacterial flagellum comes in many different varieties, sometimes with profound differences between one species and another. This alone illustrates that the flagellum is probably not irreducibly complex. It can be altered, and when it is altered, it does not necessarily lose its function.

There are many species of bacteria, for example, that use the basal parts of the flagellum to deliver toxins into their host. A different set of bacterial species uses a portion of the flagellar machinery for another purpose. Species of the genus Buchnera live inside the sheltered environment of aphid cells in a symbiotic relationship. These bacteria no longer need flagella. However, each tiny Buchnera cell is studded with hundreds of copies of the flagellar base. As a recent paper in the journal Trends in Microbiology shows, the purpose now is to serve as a passageway for the export of proteins and other material into the surrounding environment—the aphid cell in which the bacterium resides. So while we cannot follow the sequence of events step by step to illustrate how the various types of flagella have arisen, we can see how they have changed and, in some cases, even taken on whole new functions. The term for adapting a structure for a different purpose than that for which it originally arose is “exaptation.” This is one important way in which complexity arises.

That is not the whole story, however, because individual parts have to be added into the structure as it becomes more complex or takes on new function. Where do those parts come from? Recently, investigators have shown that the key protein in the molecular motor that causes the flagellum to rotate has a very similar structure to another protein that is used to transport magnesium into and out of cells. Both protein molecules have sections that fold in almost exactly the same manner, and when we analyze the order of their building blocks (amino acids), we see profound similarities. This illustrates a second principle in building complexity: It is done by co-option. Parts that are used for one purpose are co-opted to take on a second function as well. Sometimes, the instructions to build a part are encoded by identical duplicate genes. When that happens, co-option is especially straightforward. One set of instructions for making the original part is preserved while the duplicate set of instructions can gradually be modified through mutation and natural selection, allowing the part to become better and better at carrying out its new function. This illustrates a third principle of assembling complexity: adaptation through natural selection.

Even more revealingly, the supposedly irreducibly complex bacterial flagellum turns out not to be irreducible after all. For example, there is a protein at the base of the flagellum, an ATPase, that drives the key structural subunit (flagellin) of the long hollow tube through its inner core, causing the flagellum to grow in length. Yet, it has been shown that flagellin can be transported to the end of a flagellum without this ATPase. The protein that was thought to be one of the flagellum’s most important parts can be done away with. This illustrates a fourth principle of building a complex structure: redundancy. Inside of cells, there is often more than one way to accomplish a particular purpose; as evolution “tinkers” with a complex structure, there is likely to be redundancy with certain parts at certain stages. One of these redundant mechanisms may become more specialized, and even perfected, as time goes by.

The Eye

Another system that is often held up as an example of irreducible complexity is the eye. People often ask: What good is a partly assembled eye? Is there any logical series of steps that could result in the creation—through the process of natural selection—of a structure so elegant as the eye of an eagle? What would be the starting point, anyway?

Watch "The Evolution of the Eye" from PBS' Evolution: "Darwin's Dangerous Idea".

All light-sensing devices in the animal world make use of a single light-sensitive molecule, retinal, which is derived from Vitamin A. Retinal can change its shape when it absorbs a photon of light. This molecule is always complexed with a protein known as an opsin. The two work together to sense light.

By analyzing the arrangement of the building blocks, or amino acids, in opsin, it is possible to show that all opsins are derived from a single ancestral gene. What purpose could the retinal/opsin combination have had in the earliest days of animal history? It likely functioned to detect light in order to set the internal body clock that regulates the 24-hour cycle of biological processes, known as the Circadian rhythm. In recent years, it has become apparent that living processes inside of cells are tuned to function in a manner that is synchronized with the cycle of sunlight.

Circadian rhythms function throughout the living world, including single-cell organisms. It seems likely, then, that the simplest light-detecting device arose through exaptation of a molecular device that was used to detect light—not so that an organism might move toward or away from the light, but so it could reset its molecular clock. Even the origin of opsin illustrates a basic principle of building complexity, co-option. Opsin is one of many G-protein receptors, which have come to take on many different functions through the history of life. When coupled with the light-sensitive molecule retinal, a G-protein receptor allows the cell to be sensitized to the presence and absence of light. Although we have no fossilized transitions that allow us to trace the various eye intermediates that have occurred in animal history, as we do with the middle ear, we do have a myriad of light-sensing devices in the animal kingdom that allow us to piece together how sophisticated eyes could have been created through a gradual process driven by natural selection. (You can read more about the prospective intermediates that exist in the animal world in a wonderful paper by Ryan Gregory.)

If you choose to explore eye development in detail, be watching for examples of exaptation, co-option, step-by-step adaptation and redundancy. For example, you will note that the evolution of the lens illustrates co-option and redundancy. There are two ways to focus the image on the light-receiving cells at the back of an eye. One way is through an independent lens. The other way is through the transparent cornea in front of the lens. The lens is simply transparent crystallized protein molecules that are assembled in such a manner that they bring the image into sharp focus. There are a variety of proteins that can be crystallized to serve as an effective lens. It turns out that, depending on the evolutionary lineage, various proteins—including enzymes such as alcohol dehydrogenase (an enzyme for breaking down ethanol), glutathione S transferase and protein chaperones—are used for this purpose. This is a simple example of co-option and redundancy functioning together as part of the tinkering mechanism used for building a complex structure like the eye.

Two-thirds of animal phyla have some sort of light-sensing device. Although all of these light-sensing devices make use of retinal and opsins, there are differences in structure that we can trace to differences in evolutionary origin. In his 2003 book, Life’s Solution, Simon Conway-Morris documents at least seven independent origins of the eye resulting in very similar outcomes. For example, the eye of a squid and the eye of a mammal work in a remarkably similar manner. However, the ways the two eyes are constructed during development are quite different. Differences in structure are constrained by how particular bodies are constructed as the embryo develops. Eyes also bear telltale signs of the fact that there has been a certain amount of jury-rigging in their construction. They are not perfect. They have blind spots, are subject to retinal detachment, glaucoma and macular degeneration, all of which are a function of the history of how the eye has been assembled through time.

Read how a recent study has shot down the idea that protein transport is irreducibly complex.

Although we don’t have the eye intermediates preserved in stone the way we can see the simpler assembly of the parts of the mammalian middle ear, we do have a vast array of eye structures in the animal kingdom, any one of which might appear to be irreducibly complex but which, in fact, has been put together through a set of processes that has included exaptation, co-option, step-by-step adaptation and some redundancy at various stages along the way. Indeed, these eye structures themselves are likely intermediates. Everything changes as it passes through the eons of time. This is the legacy of creation through the process of natural selection.

The “image of God” is a key concept in Christian theology, foundational to Christian thinking about human identity, human significance, bioethics, and other topics. Many Christians see evolution as incompatible with the image of God. How could God’s image bearers have evolved from simpler life forms? Doesn’t image-bearing require miraculous creation of humans rather than shared ancestry with chimpanzees? And when in the evolutionary process did humans attain this image? These questions are tied to many other issues concerning human origins, including the soul, the Fall, and the historicity of Adam and Eve (see sidebars), but in this article we will focus specifically on the image of God.

See “How does the Fall fit with evolutionary history?” and “Were Adam and Eve historical figures?”

The phrase “image of God” does not appear many times in the Bible, but the importance of the concept is emphasized by its repetition in the creation account:

Then God said, “Let us make mankind in our image, in our likeness, so that they may rule over the fish in the sea and the birds in the sky, over the livestock and all the wild animals, and over all the creatures that move along the ground.” So God created mankind in his own image, in the image of God he created them; male and female he created them. -- Genesis 1:26-27

From this text, it is clear that part of bearing God’s image is ruling over the animals. Genesis 9:5-6 reveals another aspect of image bearing: all human lifeblood is sacred because all humans are made in the image of God. The emphasis on Judeo-Christian thought on the sanctity of human life is derived in part from this passage. In the New Testament, the idea is expanded further as Christ is revealed as the true image of the invisible God (2 Corinthians 4:4, Colossians 1:15).

For centuries, theologians have discussed these and other passages, debating the meaning of the image of God (“imago Dei” in Latin). Being made in God’s likeness is not a matter of our physical appearance, because humans don’t all look the same. But to what does the image of God actually refer? Many ideas have been suggested over the centuries, producing a huge body of theological writing. While hard to summarize, we give a brief overview below of three common themes for the image of God. After developing this theological context, we’ll consider how these ideas intersect with evolution.

Image of God as our abilities

A common view is that the image of God refers to human abilities. When people talk of the things “that make us human,” they refer to abilities like reason and rationality, mathematics and language, laughter and emotions, caring and empathy, and cultural products like music and art. Often the motive is to distinguish humans from animals by showing that humans have unique abilities that make us special and superior to animals. Saint Augustine (354-430 A.D.) wrote something like this when he said “Man's excellence consists in the fact that God made him to His own image by giving him an intellectual soul, which raises him above the beasts of the field.”¹ Saint Thomas Aquinas (1225-1274 AD) also emphasized intellect and rationality in his discussion of image bearing.² But Augustine and Aquinas were not speaking of intellect as an aptitude for math or music; Aquinas instead writes of an “aptitude for understanding and loving God.” In fact, the modern emphasis on reason comes more from secular Enlightenment ideas than from Christian theology. During the Enlightenment, the image of God was connected to ideas like the natural dignity and majesty of humankind that separates us from the brute beasts of the animal world.

Scientific evidence is piling up that humans have more in common with animals than was once thought. Genetic evidence shows that humans and chimpanzees share much of their DNA. Studies of animal behavior (particularly of chimps and other apes) show that animals not only laugh and cry and care for each other, but can learn sign language and even have basic reasoning ability. In fact, Christian neuroscientist Malcolm Jeeves writes that “any attempt to set down a clear demarcation between the reasoning abilities of nonhuman primates and humans is found to have become blurred.”³ Obviously, humans have a much larger capacity to reason than animals, but reasoning is not a uniquely human ability. As neuroscientists and animal behaviorists learn more about animals, they see how traits appear in a rudimentary form at a level similar to human children.⁴ Whether or not one accepts evolution, evidence from living humans and animals does not show a distinct difference in kinds of abilities (only degree).

See “Made in the Image of God: The Theological Implications of Genomics” a 2-part blog by Denis Alexander.

Another challenge for this picture of the image of God is the place of people with mental disabilities. If a person is impaired in reasoning or language, are they bearing less of God’s image? Are they not showing his true likeness? The Christian answer to these questions is No! The Bible repeatedly teaches that God values all people, particularly those who are rejected by society or unable to care for themselves.⁵ In fact, Genesis 9:5-6 points to image bearing as the reason that all human life is valuable. This is a major motivator for Christians who seek to protect the unborn, the poor, and the aged. Surely bearing God’s image must mean something other than using our abilities.

Image of God as our spiritual capacities and relationship with God

Another common view is that the image of God refers to our capacity for a relationship with God. Following Aquinas’ view of “aptitude for understanding and loving God,” the Catholic catechism says,

Of all visible creatures only man is able to know and love his creator. … he alone is called to share, by knowledge and love, in God's own life. It was for this end that he was created, and this is the fundamental reason for his dignity. Being in the image of God, the human individual possesses the dignity of a person, who is not just something, but someone. He is capable of self-knowledge, of self-possession and of freely giving himself and entering into communion with other persons. And he is called by grace to a covenant with his Creator, to offer him a response of faith and love that no other creature can give in his stead.⁶

John Calvin (1509-1564) and other reformers ⁷ wrote of the image of God as the original righteousness of humans before the Fall. When first created, we reflected God’s “wisdom, righteousness, and goodness”⁸ but, as Paul teaches, that image was tarnished by sin and is being restored in Christ:

Since the image of God had been destroyed in us by the fall, we may judge from its restoration what it originally had been. Paul says that we are transformed into the image of God by the gospel. And, according to him, spiritual regeneration is nothing else than the restoration of the same image. (Colossians 3:10, and Ephesians 4:23.) -- John Calvin, Commentary on Genesis ⁹

Neuroscientists have also attempted to investigate this model, looking for evidence of such things as selfless behavior or the ability to perceive the transcendent. But science is simply not capable of fully testing such spiritual realities; the evidence that scientists do find is open to many interpretations.¹⁰

Image of God as our commission

What did the “image of God” mean to the first audience of Genesis 1? We get insights from the rest of the Old Testament, which frequently uses “image” in the context of idol worship. In the ancient cultures of Egypt and Canaan, people made images of their gods from metal and wood and set them up in local temples to worship. Hebrew scholar Joseph Lam writes that the idol “was believed to be the true manifestation of the god in the midst of the people.”¹¹ In the Ten Commandments, God prohibits his people from making such images (Exodus 20:4-6), because God cannot be contained in, or even represented by, an idol made by human hands (see Isaiah 44:6-20). Israel’s temple contained no representation of God himself.

Turning back to Genesis 1, we now see “image of God” in a new light. The image is not a built-in ability or capacity of human beings, but a role we are called to live. God has named us as his living images. We represent God here on earth, better than any idol made by human hands. Lam writes:

In fact, it is possible to argue grammatically for the validity of the translation ‘as the image of God’ as opposed to ‘in the image of God’. … The Hebrew phraseology here denotes not so much the manner of the creation of the human being (i.e. the “mold” out of which humans are created), but rather the intended function of the human being in the world. Humans aren’t just made in God’s image, they are called to be his image in the world.¹²

Joshua Moritz develops this idea further, pointing out the parallels of our appointment to the role of image-bearer with other instances of divine election.¹³

Watch a short video where N. T. Wright describes image bearing as an angled mirror, reflecting God’s love to others and reflecting the praise of the world back to God.

Connections to evolution

How might these models of the image of God fit with evolution? First recall these key points from the BioLogos faith statement¹⁴:

• We believe that the diversity and interrelation of all life on earth are best explained by the God-ordained process of evolution and common descent. Thus, evolution is not in opposition to God, but a means by which God providentially achieves his purposes.

We believe that God created humans in biological continuity with all life on earth, but also as spiritual beings. God established a unique relationship with humanity by endowing us with his image and calling us to an elevated position within the created order. Thus, BioLogos believes that God created humanity using the process of evolution and endowed us with his image. Both views of the image of God (“spiritual capacity” and “commission”) are compatible with the scientific evidence for evolution, and both views are affirmed by individuals in the BioLogos community. In fact, the two views are not mutually exclusive.

If the image of God refers to our spiritual capacities, God could still have used the natural process of evolution to create our bodies and human abilities. God could have used a miraculous process to create our spiritual capacities, or used some combination of natural processes and divine revelation to develop these capacities. Either way, God is the creator of our whole selves, including both our physical and spiritual aspects.

If the image of God refers to our commission, then it has little impact on one’s view of how God created humans. Whether God made the first humans using natural processes or a single miracle or a mixture of the two, God named humanity as his image bearers.

BioLogos welcomes more evangelical scholarship on this question.

Living out our calling as image bearers

While the academic debate is important, it should not distract us from the essential calling to live as people created in God’s image. Let us remember to

• Value every person as a fellow image bearer. All people, both men and women, are created in the image of God (Genesis 1:26-27), not just some priestly class. All of humanity is equally valued in God’s eyes, and should be in ours (Genesis 9:5-6).
• Seek to attain the whole image of God in Christ (Ephesians 4:23). As the Holy Spirit works in us to bring about the new self, we are being molded more and more into the true image of the Creator.
• Care for the creation. As representatives of the Creator, we are charged to rule over the Earth and subdue it (Genesis 1:26-28) which includes helping creatures fulfill their God-given mandate to be fruitful and multiply (Genesis 1:22) and tending the garden God provided (Genesis 2:15).¹⁵
• Worship the Creator. Of all the created order, humanity is the leading voice to speak our praise back to the One who made us.