Science and Faith

My Plant Bio professor asked us to reflect on own understandings of the Theory of Evolution. This was my answer.

I attended pubic school back home in Minnesota, so I have always been taught that the theory of Evolution is an undeniable fact. One thing my Bio professor used to say to us was “Yeah, Evolution’s a theory, but so is gravity.” I struggled with this issue for a while because I thought, if the earth could be explained through natural causes, then was God real? I eventually came to an answer. I don’t and can’t know exactly how God created the earth, but I have put my faith in the fact that He created it. I believe in what Jesus said and did, so by default I believe in the God He both was and represented. I recognize that both the Judeo-Christian seven-day creation theory and evolutionary theory are just theories, and each has significant holes. Therefore, I lean toward a belief of God’s creation through evolution, but I am open to new evidence from both sides. Science is, by definition, using collected data to form a theory that offers a better understanding of the world around us. Faith, contrary to popular belief, is neither the opposite of nor equal to the former. Faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see, so, while science can only exist with observable phenomena, faith can exist without any observation whatsoever (though it is through observation that many of us come to faith). My faith is strengthened through many different means, one of which is through scientific observation of creation.

Stone-Kissers (There and Back Again)

About two days ago, I returned to the US after what I know has been a life-changing experience touring Jordan and Israel. I won't bore you with all the details of the trip; I plan to put about fifty of my best pictures on Facebook soon, and I think they speak for themselves.

Near the end of the trip, we challenged each other to try to describe our experiences over the past two weeks in five words. Words always fail me, but here's the best I could come up with.

Learning - We learned about life and places in Biblical times from our tour guides

Connecting - We associated what we learned with what we've read in the Bible throughout our lives. It's like adding a fourth dimension to God's word. At the sea of Galilee when I did my Bible study, I began in John where it records Jesus visiting the Sea of Galilee... how cool is that???

Hiking - If you're not going uphill or downhill in the Holyland, you are not actually moving.

Understanding - I had a good number of "Aha!" moments. One in particular, I realized why the Israelites complained so much in the desert (see Hiking).

Pita - No meal is complete without it.

Obviously, there's so much more to it than just five words (or ten thousand words) could describe.

Especially in Israel, I quickly realized that "tradition" means everything to the religious pilgrims who come to these places. 

"This is the traditional place of David tomb." 

"This is where Jesus traditionally ascended into heaven."

"According to tradition, Jesus fed the five thousand here." 

If Jesus had been seen spitting on the sidewalk, they'd have built a church at that site. So I began to wonder, as I saw more and more people kissing traditional stones and visiting overly decorated traditional Holy sites, if they had forgotten the true meaning of their faith. Were they more focused on the material places and things than they were on their God? Were they going so far as to worship these places and things? A woman sprawled out on the supposed stone where Jesus' body was laid. A man kneeling to kiss the place where Jesus was supposedly born. I became convinced that this was some twisted sort of idolatry. It's a good thing I have everything figured out. Right? I know God is equally present everywhere. I know that He's risen, so why do they wait in line for hours to see the place where He no longer is?

But wait...

When was the last time I built a gold-plated church for God? When have I prostrated myself over an oily slab of rock, in pure surrender? When have I waited in long lines just to touch the place my Savior was? I considered myself above the materialism, so above that I forgot this was another way of worshiping the same God. Worship depends completely on the attitude of the heart. And I could see beautiful, surrendering hearts praying at these places. People saw these holy sites not as gods, but as an opportunity to worship God.

It was time I changed my opinion on stone-kissing.

Sienna points to the giant, flat concrete surface a few yards ahead of her in the field.
"How did that get there?"
"It's not important," Jenna explains. "You'll understand eventually."
"Fine. But at least tell me why we're here."
"You'll see, it's sort of... well, its a metaphor."
"For what?"
Jenna shook her head. "You ask too many questions."

The girls step up onto the concrete platform. Sienna surveys the area.
"It's... massive! Who built it?"
"You did. Sort of."
"I did not build this thing."
"You asked for it to be built, and someone built it for you."
"I did not."
"Trust me. This is a metaphor, remember?"
"Oh yeah..."
"Ok, this concrete was laid here so you could build something on it. Now, I'm gonna tell you that you should build a structure here, because in about..." Jenna checks her watch, "sixteen minutes, somebody important is gonna come and check your work."
Sienna's eyes widen. "I better get started then! What do I build with?"
Jenna motions toward several piles on the far side of the platform. A couple of the piles sparkle in the metaphorical sunlight. Jewels, silver, gold, some sticks, and a few bales of hay.
"Wait, those weren't here a minute ago..."
Jenna rolls her eyes. "Fifteen minutes."

Sienna is sure whoever will check her work will obviously prefer it to be made out of the more valuable materials. She decides to build a tower and start with gold and silver. But when she finishes the base of her tower, she gets tired of dragging the heavy metal bricks. Plus, carrying all that extra weight takes too much time, and Jenna's standing off to the side, tapping her watch in anticipation. Four minutes. Sienna opts for the lighter materials and tosses them on top. She finishes by throwing a handful of jewels on her creation.
"Sienna! Stop! Here he comes!"
Sienna stands back and admires her work. Not bad. It even has modern, artsy look to it. She turns around and sees a man in a jumpsuit and clipboard, approaching from about a hundred yards off. She stands proudly near her tower, admiring its artistic beauty, when suddenly the tower bursts into flame.
"WHAT!!! AHHHH!!!! Somebody quick, grab a fire extinguisher!!!"
But there is none to be found. After all, they're in the middle of a field.

Sienna can only watch as her work burns to a crisp before her eyes. Then the guy with the clip board arrives.

"Hmmm." He walks around the dilapidated pile of dirty, melty gold and silver bricks, bathed in a healthy amount of ash. He rubs his chin as he circles the tragedy.
"It looked way better five minutes ago, I swear."
The guy with the clip board looks at Sienna and smiles. "I set it on fire."
"But... but... why?" Sienna asked, stunned.
"I hate when people build with sticks and hay. It's kind of pointless."

So much for the modern, artsy look.

Sienna gets defensive. "But it's my tower. Why do you care what I build the thing out of?"
The man pauses his inspection of the rubble, tucks the clip board under his arm and the pencil behind his ear. He looks at Sienna understandingly.
"You built it for me."
"I did?"
"You did, metaphorically, of course. But hey, now that I've cleaned the thing up a bit, I wanna give it to you."
Sienna looks at the sad mess that lies in front of her. "O dear. Maybe I should've added a bit more gold..."
"Yeah, but what can you do." He points at the place where the piles of building materials had once stood. All the extra material is gone." But even if you hadn't used any gold or silver, at least you've still got this foundation to stand on. By the way, I built it for you."
"Oh. Thanks."
"No problem. Good thing this is just a metaphor, right? If I were you, I'd start adding a few more gold bricks to the ol' pile, if you know what I mean. Especially now that you know who ultimately receives it."
"And what if I don't?" Sienna says defiantly.
The guy looks disappointed. "Alright. But I built this foundation for you when you asked for it, so you'll still be safe."

"Safe from what?"

"That."

He pointed off into the distance. There was a wildfire burning less than a mile away, approaching fast.
"Oh. That."
"Yeah. Most people don't see it coming, but you did a long time ago. Way to plan ahead!"
"Ummm... Thanks!" Sienna was starting to get the picture. "I appreciate the thought."
"Yeah, that's another reason why people like to add the gold."
"Don't worry," Sienna says, "I will."

Woah...

So there's Jesus on the cross, a few breaths away from death after a day-long struggle he knew he could not win.

In the same city, some guy named Joe is standing in his field, trying to find that lamb he had picked out three days ago for Passover dinner. There it is, running under the fence. Oh great.

Jesus is thirsty. But vinegar on a stick??? O well, He's thirsty.

Joe hops the fence post and snatches the lamb before it can run into the neighbor's pig pen. The lamb is so soft. Joe wonders if it knows what's coming.

The man next to Jesus calls out to him. Asks only to be remembered when Jesus enters the Kingdom. Jesus tells the guy they'll be hanging out later today.

Joe's walking back toward the house, wondering how much more time he's got before dinner.

Jesus is in agony, wondering how much longer the suffering will last. Wondering what hell is like.

Joe has his son hold the sheep down while he grabs the axe. Somebody's gotta do the dirty work. One.... two...

Jesus cries out that he commits his spirit to the Father. A final tear slides down his dirty cheek; a clean line in the dirt and blood. Something about his expression tells us that this was not a tear of despair. One last breath, one last heave of his body to breath....

THREE!!!!

"It is finished."

I awoke to the dim, gentle morning light beaming through the shades of my dorm room... and my friend shaking me.
"Libby, it's seven-thirty, we came to get you for breakfast."
It took me a few seconds to realize the alarm I had set for seven apparently did not go off. I flipped my phone open to check the alarm. Dead. What a way to start out my one-week class. I can try all I want, but tardiness flows through my veins.
I thought that 7:56 would be a great time to leave the dorm and walk to the other side of campus. I got to the building and spent the next five minutes awkwardly peering into classrooms until my friend ran out and rescued me from my confusion.
I didn't have time to make breakfast, but I somehow managed to make freshly brewed coffee. You do the math; am I really using my time wisely?

A Nervous Monarch

The corridor was chillier than usual that day as the king walked assuredly toward the throne room. A cool wind from an open window made the king want to wrap his long scarlet cape around himself. But dignity would not allow it. Shoulders back, head erect, his days at war had taught him the value of self-discipline and self-denial. He took long strides, as if attempting to escape the attendants which hovered at his sides. His heavy steps echoed on the cold stone walls in such a way that it sounded as if someone walked behind him, stalking him. The king longed to turn around; the echoes unnerved him exceedingly. If anyone should deserve to be stalked by a ghost, surely it is I, he thought. During the day he could go about his business without having to think of his past, he could justify his actions in his mind, but on nights like this, such a past could not be forgotten, and the memories themselves took human form to haunt him.

Exiting the corridor, the king and his attendants walked into a large throne room, well lit with candles and torches. He could see the men standing near the throne, seven or eight gray-bearded men, each wearing a long, richly colored robe and talking softly amongst themselves in the candle light. They turned as he entered and, seeing who he was, bowed accordingly.

“We are sorry to disturb Your Highness at such a late hour,” said a man with deep brown skin and an equally deep voice, “but we believe we come on a matter of great importance.”

“Great importance indeed,” said a stout man. His wrinkled face was encircled by a mass of silver hair. He seemed to be the oldest of the group, but his eyes were a soft, dark blue, still full of life and intelligence. The king disliked him immediately. “Continue.”

“We are from the east, from various countries. But we are unified in our search for a certain child. A child who the prophets foretold would be a Great King of the Jews.”

The king’s face suddenly turned the color of his scarlet cape. Was he not called the Great? Was he not called King of the Jews? He himself was a Jew, an Edomite, but a Jew nonetheless. He had not heard of any king in the scriptures who would challenge his rule, and the idea of this made him weak in the knees. After all he had done to stay on top, was he to be usurped by a child?!

Flustered, the king mustered some of that wartime self-discipline and composed himself enough to ask, “And why do you look for such a child now?”

“We have seen his star,” said a tall man with a storm cloud beard, “and we have come to worship him.”

Worship?! Treason! This could not be tolerated. How dare another be raised up as king while he still lived! The King’s face was contorted with distress. But before he could yell and have these traders arrested, he thought better of it. If these men thought a certain child would take his place, then of course this child would have to be done away with. Easy enough, he thought, as long as I can find out who he is. 

The king immediately, though with much difficulty, suppressed his intense jealousy and grinned at his guests. “I regret that I do not know of this child’s whereabouts, in fact, until now, I had not know such a child existed.”

The eldest of the group looked confused. “Are you not a Jew, my king? Have you not heard of this miracle foretold by the prophets? Your people are to receive a great leader, one who will save them from oppression.”

“Really? And when was this prophetic blessing born?” He sensed the sarcasm in his own voice and checked his frustration again.

The elderly man went on to describe how this group of men, each a practiced observer of the stars, had come across a new star in the heavens about two years ago. The group had convened to follow the star, because they believed it marked the birthplace of a Son of God.

“So we followed the star to your kingdom. The ancient prophets foretold the birth of a child in Bethlehem. This child must have been born when the Star appeared in the sky, nearly two years ago.”

“I see, I see,” said the king thoughtfully. He rubbed his beard to conceal how the corner of his mouth drew up across his cheek.

“Our purpose in visiting you was to inform you of the child’s presence here. We hope you will feel as blessed as we do that God has chosen this place to fulfill His covenant.”

The man’s deep blue eyes loomed in front of the King, full of... something. A something that the King did not understand but that, for some reason, enraged him. Or perhaps it wasn’t his eyes after all. Perhaps it was his face, which seemed to radiate gratification despite two years of exhausting travel. Or perhaps it was the way he spoke, with assurance, though he had not yet found the object of his search. The king had seen his own face in the mirror many times, and he knew that a close examination of his deep-set features revealed the fear behind the austerity. He stood precariously at the very top, terrified of the day somebody would pull him down. Every political decision he made, he made in fear of falling. There was no limit to what he would do, and already had done, to ensure the crown remained on his head.

“I had no idea that my kingdom would be so blessed as to have this... important child born within it. Thank you for informing me of this. I wish you well on the remainder of your journey to find the child.”

The men again bowed and turned to leave. But before they reached to corridor, the king called after them.

“And when you do find him,” the king conjured up a grin that stretched from ear to ear, “come back, and tell me where he is staying, so that I may go and worship him as well.

The way “as well” had slid over the great king’s lips unnerved even the youngest of the men, though the wisest could not understand why.

Country Roads (and some city ones too)

Eleven hours, four states, and seven burnt CDs later, I'm back in the cornfields. There's nothing quite like walking into your dorm and having friends shout your name and run to embrace you. I never feel more blessed than when I'm welcomed by these new friends.
The car ride over was a bit tight again. Before Christmas, we all assured each other that we would be dropping off much of our excessive luggage at home, and that on the way back to school everything would fit better. In theory, this would have worked beautifully, except for the fact we all decided it would be ok to bring a few more things back to school. So basically, the girls in the back seat were up to their necks in stuff as we sang along to Jordan Sparks' "No Air."
Tomorrow I'm supposed to start my intensive, one week Bib Lit class. Sure it starts at 8am (for all of you Minnesotans, that's 7am), but I'm actually really interested in the subject, so bring it on!

Back again...

Well, the new year has begun, and tomorrow I leave to live in Hoosierland once more. I'll miss Minnesota. Now that I've spent time with friends and family, I don't know how I'm going to leave them. And, dare I say it, I'm even in love with this stupid, stupid state. Oh Minnesota, despite your changeability, I will miss you for your spontaneity.
But as soon as I get back, I have to start getting ready for our trip to the Middle East!!!! I'm sooo hyped. Talk about your once-in-a-lifetime opportunity! Please pray for our safety and for the safety of all the Taylor groups traveling over J-Term.
I'm leaving one set of friends and going to another, so mixed feelings are understandable. No doubt we've all seen those "inspirational" plaques assuring us that home is where the heart is. As a Biology major, I must point out that my "home" must then be near the upper left side of my thoracic cavity, which I severely doubt. No, home, or at least my earthly home, is where the people I love are. And we don't love with that lump of involuntary cardiac muscle in our chests, we love with our souls and, most importantly, our actions. So, while I feel adrift at times, I have to remind myself that, on this side of eternity, "home" is in more than one place, although I am most comforted by the fact that I have a firmly established home on the other side of eternity, one that will neither pass away nor retain ice dams after large snows.