Periphery

We go on in normal conversation,
Weather, wars, and weariness.
Work wears unwanted tracks into deep grooves.

We are restless, but fearful of unrest
And change, that hated irony of constant
Coming whether we chase or stay.

Sun aches across the same spaces and still
We talk, in silence or voices or hands,
And grow older. Always, longing

For that periphery, always aiming
And missing. Will it ever exist
In the center, able to be spoken?

Sometimes we catch another's silhouette
and say, "I have seen that before. What is it?"
And briefly, our visions become possible proof:

Maybe we are not being played the fool.
Perhaps we are cast as prophet and
May speak something unbelievably true.

Perhaps, and yet that bright light
Periphery keeps its place and distance.
When, O Lord, when?

Moses hid in the rock and glimpsed
Your backside glory and shone. We see
The same half-realized perfection,

More than hope, but barely so,
Being born, we hope, not just to death,
Like everything we know, including ourselves.

O Lord, come quickly. When?
We chase your glimpses,
Children after fireflies.

Off. On. Off. On
In hand, miniscule miracles in the dark,
Treasured in glass canning jars.

Five Fingers and Theories

I just finished reading this month's National Geographic magazine, my favorite piece of mail every month. This edition happened to include a short and interesting article about the commonality between mammalian hand structures, along with some beautiful illustrations and x-rays of the limbs of several species.

In the very first column the author cites a book by a Sir Charles Bell, a Scottish surgeon who argued that the complicated beauty, the artistic functionality, and the very delicate capabilities of the human hand prove the existence of the Christian God, or at least an intelligent creator. The article swiftly moves on to state that this argument was debunked by Darwin's observation that mammals have common hand structures: five fingers, flexible groupings of small wrist bones, and longer bones forming the main structure of the appendage.

I hadn't thought about the evolution v. creation debate for a while, since my graduation from college (and my chosen literary interests) keep me from much involvement with scientific discussion. Reading this article, however, reminded me again of the, frankly, comically ridiculous arguments put forward by both sides of the discussion.

As probably everyone reading this post knows, I am a firm believer in the existence of the God of the Bible. I believe that He created the world and all its creatures, including humans, my ancient ancestors. I believe He made everything good and right, but that a human choice (a function of our good and right freedom) brought sin, or to use a less religious term, all things bad, evil, negative, etc. into the world.

As a reasonable and intelligent human being (made in God's image to be so), however, I am also a firm believer in scientific process. I believe that facts and truths exist that can be proven through observation, hypothesizing, and experimentation. I believe in observing and classifying different species, hypothesizing about their commonalities with one another. I believe in paying attention to the obvious and curious evidence collected concerning the similarities between mammalian limb structures. I also believe in the necessary process of creating theories for these similarities.

In the evolution v. creation debate, it often seems that these two beliefs must necessarily be incompatible, oil and water, completely resistant to one another. When the two sides have finished throwing the same evidence at each other to support their different ends, their arguments usually boil down to these fundamental beliefs: evolutionists think that creationists are idiots who won't look at the facts, and creationists think that the facts have been tainted by anti-God evolutionists and therefore aren't worth looking at. One dismisses the other based on assumptions concerning their unintellectualism, and the other refuses to examine any scientific evidence, citing its primary sources (I think primarily out of a fear that they might be proven wrong).

And yet here I stand in the middle somewhere, a seeming impossibility.

Using the NatGeo article on the mammalian hand that I mentioned previously, I want to make an observation that demonstrates why I don't think this has to be an impossibility. Both Sir Bell and the article's author look at the same evidence: the beautiful complexity of the hand. The author of the article hints that if Bell had examined Darwin's findings concerning the similarities in mammalian hands, he could not have made his argument, that the human hand reveals an intelligent designer. But I argue that this is a misstep in the author's reasoning.

Looking at the beautifully detailed images included with the article, I am awestruck by the same amazing complexities as Bell, not just in the human hand, but also in the foot of the elephant, the fin of a dolphin, the wing of a bat. In all of them, I see the signature of a master artist, the sculptor's fingerprints on his sculptures. I see an intelligent creator.

The NatGeo author, however, sees only support for evolution: if the appendage structures are similar, it must mean that all mammals descended from a common genetic ancestor, which he cites as some sort of lungfish with limbs strong enough to emerge from an ancient lake and begin life on land.

Again: same evidence, differing conclusions. Or not so different as they might seem, except in one fundamental regard. The only divergence in our perspectives comes from our assumed belief and disbelief in the existence of God.

We both look at the mammalian hand structure and see similarities. To me, those similarities point to a common designer. To him, those same similarities point to a process he believes completely excludes God. Both of us have theories based on the same evidence, differentiated by their foundational assumptions.

Also, consider this shocking thought: why can't they both be true? Would God be any less God if He directed evolution as the process by which all life on earth came to be?* Would science be completely moot and unnecessary if the existence of God was admitted?

To argue either is unreasonable. For the believer, God is God no matter how He created the universe. We don't know everything about Him because He is beyond us, infinite where we are finite. For the scientist, the scientific process and the data it reveals do not instantly disappear when he admits to the possible existence of a God. Science remains science, data is still data.

So arguing with each other using scientific evidence as weaponry is, simply stated, silly. A believer in God will never convince an atheist that God exists using the same evidence that the atheist uses to support his own worldview. In the same way, an atheist will never prove that God doesn't exist through the use of science. For us as Christians, science is God's domain just as much as everything else. Everything points to Him, and nothing will ever be able to disprove Him. For the atheist, evolution provides a mythology to which they can cling that conveniently eliminates that necessity of a god. Both hold to beliefs.

Science, then, is no more partisan than a rock. Bare facts are not beliefs. Results of an experiment are merely pieces of a puzzle that is too big for us to solve alone. In the end, our conclusions about what that puzzle pictures has nothing to do with science, but has everything to do with faith: either faith in something (someone) bigger than ourselves, or faith in nothing other than ourselves.

So, creationists: we believe in a God who created all things, designed all things to work the way they do, controls all things, sees all things, knows all things. We believe he forms children in the womb, sees the elephant give birth, knows the language of the dolphins. He is sovereign. So why, then, when it comes to science, do we close our eyes and hope it all goes away?

Many pioneers of every scientific discipline were strong Christians, firm believers in that sovereignty.  In fact, for most of them, it was their desire to know God and His work better that spurred them to learn more about the amazing things He created. They sought His face in His masterpieces.

And yet now we put our fingers in our ears and look away.  Why? If we believe in a God who created all things, created us, then why do we believe that science is separate from Him? That His existence will somehow be disproved by some future scientific discovery?

Atheistic evolutionists: don't you see that your views aren't based in any more science than the beliefs of those you mock? If science is the all-knowledgeable god you make it out to be, how can two differing conclusions about the existence of God come from the same evidence? As people who love reason, you have to see that your beliefs (and yes, a belief that God does not exist is a belief) influence your objectivity as much as those who believe in God are affected by theirs. Science cannot prove or disprove something of this scale; it is simply beyond the scope of human vision and understanding. You yourselves say that we are only another primate on a tiny dot of light in the universe, no more significant than any other life form on any other planet in any other galaxy in this vast universe. How can we claim to know all things, to see and understand and chart the history of time? By the estimation of your own findings, we are just too small.

In the end, we're both left looking at x-rays of our own hands, both marveling at the complexity, the strange and practical beauty. We both see potential for art and destruction, hurt and healing, gentleness and violence. Maybe in our future discussions, this is where we should start.




*As a clarification, I personally do not believe that God used the process of macro-evolution currently outlined by most non-believing scientists. The story of creation in Genesis does not even match up with that theory even in a mythological sense, and my belief in a sovereign God necessitates my belief in His infallible Word. Also, scientifically I do not think that enough evidence has been presented to support the very large assumptions about the process of macro-evolution that underlay most major macro-evolutionary theories.

Good Friday

you swallow down my vinegar-sour thimbleful of
tiny wrath, as if you deserved it,
as if it were your own.

your merciful silence sends me into fits,
raging sorrow scoring wound after wound
into the record of my scars, reopened.

you bleed too

sometimes i wish you would just
not exist
then there would be no one innocent
therefore no one to blame

go away
sometimes
but please, never leave me alone.

Porcelain

Why do you tell stories about clay pots

When you made me like translucent pearl

Beautiful, they say, and perfectly formed,

Meant for good things,

Offering up delicacies in the golden light of candles

Shimmering on my sides. But then,

They see beauty in inherent flaws:

Not just chipping, but shattering

With the slightest blow, no practical use,

A pretty bauble. You could have made me sturdy

And beautiful in earthier ways, as strong as the mountains

You pulled me from. I could see your fingerprints

In my rough ridged sides, see my color and know my roots,

Take a hundred knocks off the shelf and never break.

But instead, you baked me and shaped me in the fire

Till what you made me was my death.

Nobody thinks that broken pieces are beautiful.

Snow in Chicago

I


You mute the air

And I can open my eyes wide,

Sky and asphalt and naked trees

Dressed in the same gray white,

Soft. You smooth the creases,

Cover over sharp edges and points, shroud

The dirt and broken bottles and forgotten

Socks in gutters. Everyone drives politely, if only

Out of fear and the

world slows

Down.



II

The old homeless woman looks happier than usual,

Though her tennis shoes surely have holes, leaking slush

To soak her only pair of socks. But people are more generous

When they see those shoes in the snow, below her chapped red face,

And almost every car brings an open window and

A handful of cash. She tucks it in her coat so it won’t get wet

And gives you thanks even as you freeze her naked fingers.



III

Young man (black or white?) shuffles along, face hidden in his fluffy hood,

The same worn by the businessman (known only by his briefcase)

trotting to the bus and the old woman (or man?)

Burdened by grocery bags, back to the wind.

Median trees, barely growing in two feet of precious soil,

Stretch endlessly up the fathomless, falling sky,

Each twisted twig a silver scepter. They arch in majesty

Over the asphalt, now a silver carpet, and for a while

Make an avenue of kings.

For one hour, the city shares in a communion of clothing

When you give them clean white robes covering

The filth of collected carelessness.