What I wish I would have known in High School Bio (or, why Nessy is an object lesson)

I distinctly remember the sinking feeling in my stomach in my eleventh-grade Biology class as my professor discussed the implications of evolution: that life could begin and grow and multiply and thrive, and that in theory, it could be done without a God. As an adolescent questioning my faith, I wanted to avoid the subject entirely, out of fear that further investigation would reveal to me not only that everything I had been taught was wrong, but that I would find myself very much alone in the universe. Biology was to be avoided. And I certainly did not want to select any career that would require me to ponder it...

...so I've begun pursuing my high school Biology teaching license.

Needless to say, I've learned a few things along the way. I've expressed some of these ideas to members of my MAT cohort, and judging by their interest, I've become even more excited to share them. Perhaps my interest has bubbled over into my first blog post in a very long time, but I must say, I wish someone had been able to share these ideas with me at the turbulent age of sixteen.

My ideas are not new or unique. A 2007 survey of high school Biology teachers revealed that over half (51.5%) believe that God guided evolutionary processes occurring over billions of years. Only about a third of America in general feels this way. I'm one voice of many, so why are we not heard? Why is it when I talk to my fellow grad students about this, their eyes get wide and they start asking amazing questions? Is there some underlying belief, however deep, that you can't really be a practicing Christian and a firm believer in Darwin's views?

I want so dearly to combat this. I don't want kids to feel like they have to choose between their faith or the fascinating world of science. What follows is a short list of what I want to tell them. Please feel free to give your feedback, as this list is not exhaustive.

What I wish I would have known in High School Biology

Creationists are not going extinct
America said "Yea God" over three decades of research.

If you believe the earth was purposely created, you are among the majority in America. I won't pretend I never felt the occasional sting of a teacher's comment on Christian ignorance, but let's be realistic in our assessment of the situation. Prejudice happens, but it happens both ways. The aforementioned survey of biology teachers revealed that more feel pressured not to teach Evolution (17.9%) than those who feel pressured not to teach Creationism (13.6%).

Evolution is not a theory of origins
Evolution does not explain the origin of life. Darwin hypothesized about this, saying that life could have started in some "warm pond" somewhere. But Evolution is the theory that species adapt and change over time in response to their environments. No origins required.

Nor is it "just a theory"
I was told this over and over, but by the time high school rolled around, it was little comfort to me. Yes, we still refer to this process as the Theory of Evolution. But to call it "just a theory" reveals a lack of knowledge about the scientific process, and makes you look silly to the VERY small group of those who I refer to as "militant anti-creationists" (Freedom from Religion Foundation and their notable Ball State incident, for example.) Scientific theories are tested and tested and tested. The more viable theories are the ones that last.

Proof is a strong word
Neither faith nor science, by definition, can be proven.

Let's imagine a man who genuinely believes the lochness monster exists. A scientist may come along and tell this man he is wrong, but can the scientist disprove the man? She can cite facts, raise the question of the chances of such a creature living so long, so hidden from modern means of detection, but to prove the non-existence of the lochness monster is impossible.

Now let's imagine that same man attempts to prove to our scientist that Nessy does exist. He tells about the numerous times he's seen this creature, so why is our scientist not convinced? No facts. It's an experience that the man had, and he can't verify an experience.

So it is in our current debate. It's why the 2014 Ken Ham/ Bill Nye debate was like watching a western shoot-out with pop guns. They kept missing each other. Their arguments fell short because they each only knew how to argue from their own extreme perspectives: all faith or all science. But what if we could blend the two? What if we could have faith and science?

You can have faith and science!

As a person raised Christian, I eventually chose Christianity for myself because I felt God's presence in my life. I can't verify that. I've felt His comfort literally rush through me when I sit quietly in prayer. Dopamine, you say? Released at the supposition of a mystical experience? Certainly, but who's to say God cannot cause chemical joy in our bodies at the realization of his presence? If I believe we are body and soul, matter and spirit, is it a surprise that I would need both the seen and the unseen to understand myself? And is this not a way that God would chose to reach us, knowing just how we are?

Much love,

Libby

Sources:

Plutzer, Eric and Michael B. Berkman. National Survey of High School Biology Teachers, 2007. Public use data file; January 12, 2010 release. Retrieved May 2014 from

http://www.thearda.com/Archive/files/Codebooks/HSBIOL_CB.asp

Evolution, Creationism, Intelligent Design. (n.d.). Gallup.com. Retrieved May 2014 from

http://www.gallup.com/poll/21814/evolution-creationism-intelligent-design.aspx

Detailed

Help me. I'm drowning in details.

I can see them swarm around me. Toole flows about my ankles, growing deeper by the minute. Silk flowers rain from above in a mass so thick that it threatens to replace the very air I breathe. Ribbons bind my wrists as the sky behind me takes on dangerous hues of coral, lemon yellow, and medium gray.

Once a wise woman told me never to plan a wedding while in college. To this, my response was a dismissive smile and a giggle. I had decided that, if the opportunity arose, I would be planning my own wedding and making the same mistake three years down the road. But how could I have known what I was getting into? I've always considered myself creative and crafty. And with the plethora of DIY that is Pintrest at my fingertips, my wedding planning would not only be easy, but fun.

But, oh, the details! Weighing many ideas against a budget. Accounting for assembly time. Multiplying everything by either the number tables or number of guests. Visiting the same store multiple times to use different coupons. Which florist? Too expensive. Can we order in bulk? Centerpieces? Oh, but this would look better. And Libby, what does your dream bouquet look like?

My dream bouquet would appear out of thin air into my waiting hands exactly two seconds before I walk down the aisle.

But during this busy season of my life, my Bible has laid on my desk, quietly. As I spent the semester balancing two jobs, three lab courses, choral participation, graduation prep, the grad school search, and a wedding, I forgot why I was doing it all. Surely God would understand. I mean, Jesus went to weddings... And he's certainly seen a few over the years. He would understand my need for a break from daily scripture reading. Unfortunately, I didn't understand how detrimental such a break would be for myself.

I think I've finally figured something out. It's not the act of reading the Bible that produces in us some sort of magical peace and quiet strength. Disciplining myself to read a passage or two every day does nothing more than provide another detail for me to worry about. But the days when I can let go of the details for even a few seconds and talk to God as if He was sitting next to me... those are moments of peace that strengthen me even when it seems like the whole world wants to know whether or not we will have ushers or who gets a corsage. Sometimes my Bible is open, sometimes it's not. But just because the Bible is the Word of God doesn't mean that this is the only way that God speaks to us. Neglecting to read my Bible left me feeling very alone. And not because I wasn't reading/doing, but because I wasn't listening.

Once upon a time, a woman named Martha had Jesus as a guest. She cooked a nice dinner and fussed over all the details. Her sister, however, didn't help. She sat at Jesus' feet and listened. Of course Martha was mad! This was the most important dinner she would ever cook and she needed her sister's help. In her frustration, Martha forgot propriety and complained about her sister to Jesus. Jesus probably smiled and rolled his eyes. "My dear Martha, you are worried and upset over all these details! There is only one thing worth being concerned about. Mary has discovered it, and it will not be taken away from her."
-Luke 10:41b-42 (NLT)

May I find and hold on to the only thing worth all the time and effort.

The Art of Taking Heart

Ugh... waiting.

And I know my voice echos with billions of others. No one enjoys the delay of gratification.

Yes.

I KNOW.

It's good for me.

The List of Bad Things that are Good For Me:

• Running, daily (HAHAHAHAHA!!!)

• Running, sporadically

• Washing aged dirty dishes

• Organic Chemistry

• Waking up before 7 am (which coincidentally has been part of Organic Chemistry)

• Composting

• Cleaning the apartment shower

• Skipping the coffee

• Setting and emptying the fruit fly traps

• Rough drafts

• Folding laundry

• WAITING

The wedding is T-minus six months as of Wednesday, but I've recently come up with a plan (read: coping mechanism) to somehow prove to myself that it's not actually as long as I think: I'll count how much time I still have to wait, and then count back that same amount of time and try to remember what I was doing. Six months ago I was on J-Term break, walking through two feet of snow in Massachusetts and soaking in the heat of the Wagners' wood-burning stove. Today, I'm nearly immune to sunburn, and the ice melts in my water bottle before I can take a swig.

...So much for that plan.

Any time is a long time when you are waiting.

When I was younger, my mom used to sing The Patience Song to me if I complained about waiting. It went something like this:

Have patience, have patience
don't be in such a hurry.
Have patience, have patience,
you'll only start to worry.
Remember, remember,
that God is patient too.
And think of all the times when others 
had to wait for you.

The song certainly served its purpose: I was careful not to voice complaints in her presence. But it never solved the problem. At the end of the song, I was still waiting.

Counting the Years

In the Old Testament, when you wait for freedom, you wait seven years.
When you wait for love, you wait fourteen years.
When you wait for rescue, you wait forty.
When you wait to return, you wait seventy.

SEVENTY!!!

Maybe God is the only one who likes waiting...

Exit 59 Church is currently teaching through Exodus, and today we talked about Moses' life after he fled from Egypt. He lived in the desert for 40 years, and he was 80 years old when God called him. Add that to the next 40 years he spent in the desert with a new crowd...

He lived in the desert for 80 years... dang.

And the whole time, the Hebrew people continued to be slaves in Egypt, as they had been for years and years and years before.

Why was God waiting to free the oppressed?

Why was God waiting?

And yet we are instructed to "Be strong, and take heart, and wait for the Lord." -Psalm 27

God has some kind of timing I don't understand. He simply asks me to wait. The word for "wait" in Spanish also translates as "hope." Maybe the art of waiting is something like this: the act of patiently looking forward to God's will, which is "good and pleasing and perfect" while continuing to follow, grow, seek, and lift Him higher.

I hope I can making waiting look that graceful. ;)

Two (or, Give Me A Second)

It was one of the strangest, most wonderful Christmas gifts I had ever received. And it could have only come from Danny.

My younger brother has always been drawn to hands-on projects. At a younger age, this interest got him into everything from claymation creations to some dangerous situations with power tools. His latest creation of note is a bike helmet fitted to hold a video camera. Of course he's used it in public. He wouldn't be Danny if he didn't.

I would also like to note that his shirt in this photo reads: "Lutefisk: It'll put the fear of cod in you."

Although this is one my favorite Danny creations, my favorite was considerably smaller and so incredibly thoughtful that, seven months later, I'm still thinking about it.

It was Christmas Eve morning. We each took turns opening gifts. Danny had been able to participate in several art classes during the past semester, so a couple gifts under the tree were handmade. There was a clay pot for my mom with a hummingbird figure emerging from the lid and, when my turn came, Danny excitedly handed me a small, handmade paper box. Inside the box was a simple black string necklace with a metal pendant at the end, which said "I am" on a piece of hammered sheet metal cut in the shape of a "#2." I couldn't help but laugh when I saw it. "I am #2?!?!" It was so Danny; he has a habit of saying things that initially make no sense, but then, after you think about it, you're like... woah.

After the initial shock (not to mention the blow to my self-esteem) had passed, the pendent reminded me of Jesus' words in the gospels: "Love the Lord your God with all your heart... and love your neighbor as yourself." So, it's a reminder that I am second to God, and that my desires come second! 

Good one, Dan! 

Like any good English teacher, my initial interpretation satisfied me. But something was off. Loving God, then others, then self... unless my counting was dreadfully off, that put me at #3. Dang.

But, like any good English teacher, I allowed myself some slack. It was all about interpretation, after all... right? But the ambiguous significance of the pendant stuck with me as it hung over my desk for months, taunting me with the unsolved mystery behind the identity of number one.

When I moved out of the dorm and into an apartment for the summer, I again hung up the pendant at my desk. It just belonged there; if nothing else, at least it reminded me to be humble, to put God first... or... something...

The Art of Humility

But lately God has been showing me there's a bit more to the story. Or at least He's been trying to show me... I'd been too wrapped up in life to notice. It started with a gentle call to spend quality time with Him, not to rush through prayers and breeze through Bible verses like a fifty-page research paper. He wants me to enjoy my time with Him, to be still, to meditate, to talk, and to listen. I had forgotten to listen, to take in His presence and feel that very tangible feeling of relief as He sweeps through me and tugs at my worries and fears, hoping today I will let them go. I had fallen victim to time-consciousness rooted in selfishness, and the selfishness had appeared in other areas of my life as well. I realized that it's really hard to be any kind of decent fiancee when you're more concerned about yourself than your future husband. But selfishness is subtle. Silent. You feel like you're loving someone... and then... that awkward moment when you realize it was actually all about you. Oops.

The science of being imperfect is the study mistakes, the investigation of causation, and the creation of a solution. The problem with the latter is that, sometimes (and very un-science-like) the only solution is to realize we don't have one, and that we can't create one. This is where the art of humility comes into play. Sometimes, I just need to get over myself. I need help. I need God. It's not about me. I'm not number one.

Being number two is an attitude of humility. For the most part, our interactions can be classified as either between ourselves and people or ourselves and God (the only exceptions I can think of are marriage vows and public statements of faith). One entity to another. When I pray, talk to God, I want to surrender to His will and make His priorities mine. When interacting with people, I want to put all of their needs before mine. When it's me and them, they are first, I am second. It's servanthood. It's hard. I keep messing up. But God will cut me some slack. And He's always willing to give me a second. ;)

Overdraft Forgiveness (Or, rethinking Grace)

"Effffffffffffffffffff!"

That moment when you check you online account balance only to find that the numbers have changed from black to a very disheartening red. You've done it again.

You've overdrafted.

As your world slowly begins to crumble in the background, you ponder all the things you could have bought with the money the bank is going to charge you for your stupidity. That's right. You are going to pay $32 for stupid.

32 dollars is equal to:

• One really nice date
• Two decently nice dates
• One GRE study book
• Almost a tank of gas in the Buick
• Three drinks at Starbucks

It's embarrassing. It's a mistake I've made too many times in the past few months. I'm twenty-one years old, and I can't seem to figure out that a small number minus a bigger number is always a negative number. Always. My-LAN-ta!

I sat at the computer and thought through my options, which were few. One was to wait till my next check came in... the other was to scream in frustration and then wait until my next check came in. I carefully selected the latter.

"Effffffffffffffffffff!"

Which brings me to where I left off. When I make silly mistakes like this, I often think back to 5th grade. A teacher I adored used to hear out our excuses for late assignments, smile slightly and answer with the apathetic phrase I least wanted to hear. "Tough." You lost the worksheet? Tough. You had to clean the bathroom last night and didn't have time? Tough.

You didn't check your freaking account balance before you went out to eat? Awwwwwwwww. Tough.

I learned quickly how pointless my excuses sound to the rest of the world, and from fifth grade on, I slowly stopped making them. If I do something stupid, if I drop the ball, I gotta gird my loins and pick up the slack myself. It's my fault, and therefore, I have to suffer the consequences. 

I was explaining my thoughts on consequences to Jordan one night, when he asked me a question that shocked me.

Had I prayed about it?

What?!?!? Of COURSE not! I messed up! It was my own stupid fault! God was sitting near the Pearly Gates, crowned in Glory, arms crossed, saying, "Tough, Libby. Tough." Why would He lessen that responsibility I had? Why would He take away that consequence?

Jordan paused for a moment before his next shocker question: "Well, where's the grace in that?"

Walls fell down. Isn't that what Grace is anyway? God taking away the consequences?

God taking away the consequences of my stupid?

And here I thought I had this whole saved-by-Grace-through-faith thing down. Wrong. I realized there were areas of my life that I didn't think God would forgive. But if He has taken away my ultimate consequence, who's to say He wouldn't forgive me for the little things? Why couldn't I ask Him to take away that tiny fee if He had wiped clean my hate, my gossip, my conceit and self-righteousness? All those things make $32 dollars look like a year's interest on my savings account.

~Let's rethink Grace and make sure we haven't made it conditional~

P.S. I haven't had to pay my two overdraft fees from this year. One the account contract covered, the other disappeared from my account history. Two more stains, washed away =)

Grace as Flexibility (Or, superwoman decks the halls)

It didn’t occur to me until she said it for me.

“I’m so glad for you that last semester is over!” Chels told me emphatically one night as we scratched away at some stats homework.

“Why’s that?”

“Because, it was so stressful for you. You were so busy!”

I pondered this. Sixteen credit hours, 3 lab courses (including my nemesis, Organic Chem), my PA position, adding a major, and starting a relationship that had been a long time in the making. I had been too busy to realize how much I had heaped onto my metaphorical plate... and I tried to take care of that heap all by myself. I don’t plan on trying that again… but hopefully I have gleaned a few lessons from a rather trying semester.

Things I learned in Fall 2012

~ That I need help ~

My arms were tired as I pressed a string of Christmas lights up against the ceiling. I tried to contort my hand one more time so that I could simultaneously support the lights and tie them to a nearby water pipe, a job that would have been ideal for a seven-foot tall basketball player with three arms. I tied a few poorly-planned knots and stood back to admire my work. Then suddenly, one of my previous ties snapped, bringing down a section of the strand with such force that another tie broke. As a large section of my beautiful icicle lights flopped helplessly onto the ground, I realized I still had fifty feet of lights to go. So I did what any hardworking, dedicated PA would do in that situation: I left them there for a week.

            For some reason, I came into this leadership position under the assumption that leading meant you take the initiative and do everything yourself. Even though I had chosen other floor leaders to back me up in event planning, decoration, and the like, I still took all of the responsibility onto my shoulders, which, when you think about it, is an irresponsible thing to do. I realize now that it was a pride thing: I needed to be recognized, and to be recognized, I needed to be superwoman.

 ~That I can ask for it ~

After Thanksgiving break, I finally decided to ask for help with the lights. I was amazed by how much quicker the whole decking the halls thing went three hands were actually involved, not improvised. The lights were up in half an hour. Now the suites… just the idea overwhelmed me. But the girls took up the task, and with a cascade of last-minute help, we finished just in time for a lovely Christmas open house.

~ That I am loved ~

            God has sustained me this semester through some really rough weeks here and there, but not how I expected. I always assumed God would send down some sort of blessed burst of energy as a means of support. But He chose to work through people instead: friends who know how to reassure me without saying a word, a boyfriend who shows he cares by remembering the little things, my parents’ consistent love. So when I lift my eyes beyond the stacks of books to the people standing by me, I know that my help comes from the Lord, Creator of heaven and earth.

Jesus in the Sink (or, Three-and-a-Half Months of Grace)

But the difficulties remained, and to say that I put my relationship with God on the “backburner” would be an understatement. By December, Jesus had been pushed from the stovetop and into the sink. And as bad as that sounds, the real problem was that I thought this was close enough for a Savior.

            Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t purposely put my faith aside, but it got pushed anyway. There was always a class, a meeting, a test, and then some last-minute need on the floor, and as a result I would go days without more than a few words of prayer. I stayed up too late for the unnecessary and woke up too late for the necessary. I forgot to eat or skipped food to save time. I pulled three all-nighters and lost fifteen pounds. I felt like I was chasing my life with the box it was supposed to fit in.

            But what if I had put God first? Made time? Pushed everything else back to make room for Him? If God provides for our needs, maybe he would have provided the time and discipline I needed as well…

            Christmas break gave me a good opportunity to turn around and look at the rut I had dug for myself. I realized that time with God had become a very VERY low priority, but I justified it by what I was doing. After all, being PA is a ministry, isn’t it? But what’s a ministry if I don’t spend time with the God I say that I serve?

            In the meantime, Jordan and I started reading Crazy Love by Francis Chan. Every chapter is painfully challenging because it reveals another way I’m failing at loving a God who is so deserving of love. I was missing out by not spending time with Him. I felt like the deer in Psalms that pants for streams of water, but I knew lacked the discipline to follow through on a consistent Bible study. 

So I asked. And wow, God has been so good.

I haven’t missed a day since I made this resolution. And the days when I spend the most time with God? Those are the days when everything makes the most sense. I can serve people best, the girls on my floor especially, when I have reminded myself earlier that day that God is my vision. My purpose. My reason.

I’m not perfect. Not at all, and sometimes my time with God isn’t all it can be. I can have a hundred things on my mind and become distracted in prayer or reading. But I have reached a point where I am doing this not because I feel obliged to, or because I feel guilty if I don’t, but because I have experienced so much blessing when I am consistently seeking God that it is something I want to do. Like I said, prayer and study reminds me of what God requires of me, which basically is the outline for the best possible life a person can have: to act justly, to love mercy, and to walk humbly with my God.

May this be our goal in 2013.

LoveJoyPeace in Christ,

Libby

Jeremuddy (or, Surrender 201)

So they threw Jeremiah into the cistern. It was full of mud, and he sank in.

Oh yuck.

And that's the Gospel truth. You can read about it in Jeremiah 38. Spoiler alert: they pull him out. But not until throwing down some old rags to buffer his armpits from the rope.

What?! Armpits?!

No disrespect to Jerry and his plight; I'm sure it would be terrifying to fall into a pit and then sink into another. But part of me wishes the anecdote about the third and fourth pits of the story would have been something a bit more relevant to my life. For instance, God could throw in a sentence about which presidential candidate I'm supposed to vote for.

Needless to say, my Bible commentary had nothing to say about the significance of Jeremiah's armpits, but it did have something to say about ol' Ebed-melech, the guy who headed up the rescue party. Probably a eunuch and head of the King's harem, Ebed-melech had something nobody else in Jerusalem seemed to have at that time, the oft-cited and under-appreciated fear of the Lord. The guy had respect for God, and therefore, His servant. He made sure Jeremiah was as well cared-for as the war-ravaged city could afford.

Jerry told them all over and over again that Jerusalem would fall to the Babylonians if they didn't shape up and stop insulting their relentlessly loving God. Nobody listened. Jeremiah is known as the "Weeping Prophet." I would cry too if a city hated me and God told me to wear a diaper. "But that's not fair!" you say. "The guy's only trying to help, and God makes him do the stupidest things!" Well yeah, but its nothing Jesus didn't do.

Because of Ebed-melech's fear of the Lord, God saved his life, a privilege that God only offered to those who surrendered to the Babylonians. But Ebed-melech did surrender, and even before he stepped outside the city. True surrender is a heart attitude.

Isn't that what God wanted anyway? Heart surrender? He made Jeremiah tell the Israelites again and again that their lives would be spared if they surrendered. Easy, right? Surrender 101. Just walk outside, toss up a white flag, and get your one-way ticket to Babylon. But with a temple, a Holy City, and honor to defend, the white flag wasn't the most popular option. Plus, who was gunna guarantee that you would live as soon as you stepped out from behind the safety of the city walls? If you weren't killed for defecting, it was war out there. It was a risk, but God promised them life. By surrendering to the enemy, they showed they trusted God to save them. It was God's last call for the faithful. And he saved those who were faithful.

God is Just and patient. People say the Old Testament portrays a ruthless, hateful God, quick to kill. But have you read the whole thing? What about the way God, time after time after time, gives second chances, third chances, hundredth chances to a  group of people who treat their Creator as a hobby? Surrender 201 is the art of stepping out and trusting the loving God of second chances, whether that means stepping out in a war zone, wearing a loincloth, or risking your reputation to toss some extra padding to the weird old guy in the hole. Surrender 201 is open to students of any age or major. The only prerequisite is a willingness to put your trust in God. To surrender your life to Him.