The Next Step

We have heard of the epic struggle of life, up from a single organism that struggled to survive. We have heard of the grand battle of this organism and its children to overcome the odds and live and reproduce and change. This great odyssey through the eons has become the narrative of our age, the modern story of our creation.

I often wonder about the story. What would it have been like? There were many great changes throughout the ages. Birds, for example, were one of these great changes from one category of creature to another. Did each of these first pioneers know the implications for the countless creatures that would follow? How long did the capacity to fly exist before the first proto-bird took to the sky? How many of those who could fly did?

It must have been a critical moment in the history of any species at such a point in evolution. Any creature who did not take the leap would die, out-competed and outlived by his courageous fellows who freed themselves from the shackles of gravity. His proud ancestral line of survivors, unbroken from the dawn of life to that day, was finally shattered by the great and cruel rod of selection. Perhaps his memory was not lost in the darkness of history; perhaps our knowledge of this race of creatures was informed by his inability to fly from a flood. If this is the case, we can thank him for teaching us of his failed strategy: stagnancy.

I have pondered what it would be to observe this phenomenon, and sometimes disappointed not to see it dramatically playing out in the animal kingdom. I have often wanted to see such a transition. I would have loved to see the first ambitious step onto dry land, or the first bold avian leap from a branch. It seems that we have reached something of an equilibrium, or at least it feels that way to a creature with a lifespan under a century.

But I’m not so sure that we're at equilibrium. I have a feeling that something is afoot; or rather something has been afoot. Unique amongst our fellow creatures, we are the first to begin to change our environment, rather than be changed by it. We have reached a critical point in intelligence where we have categorically become a different kind of creature: a reasoning one. One cannot study the natural history of art, religion, or morality. These all arise with humans, as if our step in intelligence was the one that crossed some sort of threshold, making us the first creature to enter the palace of reason. Like the early birds, have we finally developed some new capacity?

The twists and turns of evolution are so dramatic. Like the characters of a play, the bacteria, the plants, the fish, the land-creatures all take their places on the stage. In one scene late in the play, we can see the rise of the reptiles in an escalating battle for survival. The claws grow longer, the teeth sharper. Armor builds up on the backs of the great lizards like plating on battleships. Then, when one would predict the plot of ever thickening armor, the king to succeed the great Tyrannosaurus turns out to be the meek mammal. These small and unassuming creatures out-survive their reptilian masters, and then begin an arms-race of their own. Bigger and bigger brained creatures struggle for dominance. Then, humans enter, stage left, and we find ourselves on the stage of natural history. We are the biggest-brained of the big-brained creatures. So what’s next? Will our brains get bigger as reptilian armor got thicker? Or should we expect something unexpected?

It seems that we have already entered into the realm of reason; more brain power is not a dramatic change. And besides, our brains have produced machines which have more computing power than we could evolve in a millennium of millenniums. If we look to history, we should expect the change to be something dramatic, something new. How do we seek something new? And what hints can we look for?

If we were early birds, we could have contrasted ourselves to other creatures. We could have noticed that we were lighter than other creatures. We might have tried jumping and seeing that we could jump higher than other creatures. Then by progressive jumps, we would have learned to fly. So what is unique about humans? How could we jump?

We see the beginnings of our jumping. Though now we are not simply escaping the law of gravity, but the realm of matter. We have seen even the earliest of humans jumping to escape the rigid laws of death and decay through ceremonial burial. We see philosophers suggest the existence of forms and ideas, believing they transcend the material world. We try to read mathematicians who propose immaterial mathematical laws which they believe are foundational to the physical. We read authors and poets who write of places never seen and ideals never known. And we hear prophets who bear witness of a reality which is more real than any material thing. If these poets and prophets are not all mad, then truly we are at a critical point in the history of the cosmos: we have reached a point when we are no longer confined to the cosmos.

These men were those who jumped and glided. None of them ever said he could break out of the physical. But then there came one of us who claimed he could fly; he claimed that in himself, the visible and the invisible met. Moreover, he came with the message that we all could fly, and he showed us how. In so doing, he made sense out of our humanity. As the inexplicable and inconvenient feathers of the early birds finally made sense in flight, so too did this man make sense of humanity’s otherwise incomprehensible yearnings and graspings for invisible things.

Anyone who looked at his life would have believed that he made sense of humanity; he was the ideal human being. Every virtue to which we all aspire was fulfilled in him. The strange conflict between “ought” and “is” was resolved in his life. He was courageous and strong in fighting proud oppressors; he was kind in healing those who were hurting. His life provoked many to jealousy; but even they could say nothing against him. He was humble and did not glorify himself, but was in truth, born a king. He was deft at debate, and passionate in prayer. He loved others to the point of death. And then, to prove that he was no longer bound by death, he resurrected from the dead.

The first bird to spread its wings and fly was the greatest among the birds; it expressed the full essence of the species through flight. But soon, all birds became what they were destined to be: flying creatures. And now we can follow that first man who constructed a bridge between the visible with the invisible we all yearn for.

As eyeless creatures gained the ability to detect physical light, he suggested that the next step for our race is to use our new eyes and detect spiritual light (“The people that walked in darkness have seen a great light” ). As the first men rose above animal instinct, he teaches that we now must rise above human instinct to divine nature (“He has given us his very great and precious promises, so that through them you may participate in the divine nature” ). As animals developed teeth for eating newer and more nutritious foods, so he calls us to eat a new kind of food altogether (“I am the living bread which came down from heaven: if any man eat of this bread, he shall live for ever: and the bread that I will give is my flesh, which I will give for the life of the world” ). As the first organism transitioned from non-life to biological life, he promises us that by following him we could transition from biological life to spiritual life (“For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.” ). As humans developed socially complex society, repenting of our tribalism, he urges the New Men to rise above complex societies to a heavenly kingdom (“Repent: for the kingdom of heaven is at hand.” ). This man is calling us to evolve to something more than human. Or rather, he is calling us to express the fullness of our humanity.

Will you not follow this man to the sky? Will you ignore the glimpses your young spiritual eyes have seen when the light is brightest, in the power of the thunderstorm, the grandeur of the mountaintop, or in the passion of a kiss? Will you watch as your fellow creatures reap the rewards of this new kind of existence while you debate within yourself whether wings can work? Will you remain a flightless bird?

Take flight! Take the leap into the air and fly! Or if you’re more hesitant, jump a little first and see how high you get. But for heaven’s sake, at least try! Try to open your spiritual eyes and see what of heaven is visible, or open your mouth to taste spiritual food. See what comforts and joys are to be experienced in this new Kingdom. One of those New Men who had new eyes saw this image of our race: “But they that wait upon the LORD shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run, and not be weary; and they shall walk, and not faint.”

Let us take the next step. Let us fly into eternity after Jesus Christ!

Scientific Faith

I recently had a discussion about challenging my faith. I have always done this myself, believing that my faith would be strengthened through challenge. It was last night that it occurred to me that this was the scientific method applied to my faith. The following is an expansion of that thought.

Faith is very much like science. You may be shocked by this, but look at how similar they are. Both study truth. Both use methods involving the formation and testing of theories. Both are self-critical, challenging the theories to strengthen them. Those who make a discovery in each attempt to communicate it to others.

Faith is a Study of the Truth
If there is a God then there are things that are true about Him (or her/it/they), and things that are false. Either He performs miracles or He does not (Either a Man was born of a virgin or He was not). Gravity is either 9.81m/s^2 or it is not. There are no two ways about it. We can certainly argue things beyond that ("How do you know gravity is 9.81"), but these questions must presume that there is a fixed, true thing that we're trying to understand.

Because it is a study of true things, faith, like science, has claims of truth which may be right or wrong. And as with science, we ought to be rigorous in deciding which claims, beliefs, doctrines, and practices to accept and which to reject.

The Scientific Method
How does science decide which claims are true and which are false? "The Scientific Method". What's that? It's a process of discovery which tries to test theories with experiment.

At its core is skepticism. You need to question and show that your theory cannot be dis-proven, try as you might. It's not a way to prove things. No number of white swans would be sufficient to 'prove' the statement, "All swans are white," for there may be an undiscovered black swan. Nevertheless, if the statement is limited, "All swans on Swan Lake are white," and the evidence is strong against the alternatives ("Of 1000 swans observed, 1000 were white") one can be fairly sure of the theory. Even still, one has not proved the statement; one has only showed that it is the most reasonable thing to believe. This is all science can do.

And this is all faith can do. I cannot prove God, but I can provide powerful evidence for Him. I can provide compelling evidence to disprove the alternatives ("The Bible is not inspired," "God is not knowable," "Jesus was just a good moral teacher"), but I can't prove that Jesus was born of a virgin. I can only show His virgin birth is the most reasonable thing to believe.

Expanding Knowledge
Science grows by challenging itself. A scientist does experiments which would disprove his theory ("I'm going to watch for a black swan"). When they fail to ("Zero black swans were observed"), it further strengthens the theory. Only after doing this can a scientist go to the world and put forth a theory ("All swans on Swan Lake are white").

Faith grows by challenging itself. A person ought to challenge his beliefs, even actively looking for things which would disprove it. When these fail, this strengthens the person's faith. As Paul says, Rom 5:3 (NLT) We can rejoice, too, when we run into problems and trials, for we know that they are good for us-they help us learn to endure.

With challenges answered, he can then answer criticism and question alike. And this is what Peter wrote: 1Pe 3:15b ...[be] ready always to [give] an answer to every man that asketh you a reason of the hope that is in you with meekness and fear." This is exactly like what a scientist ought to do (sans the "with meekness and fear" part, which would probably substantially improve science writing).

In both cases, if these challenges oppose the theory, it means the theory ought to be revised or completely thrown out. The scientist who sees a black swan on Swan Lake must amend his theory ("Most swans on Swan Lake are white"). The Atheist who reads a verifiable prophecy must amend his theory, as would the Christian if he found a contradiction in the Bible (praise God these are absent).

When they have established their ideas, scientists communicate their theories via publishing, posters and conferences, and call it “Advancing Knowledge.” Christians, though a bit more sophisticated in their methods, communicate their theories in a similar manner (books, conferences, conversation) and call it ‘Evangelism’.

Conclusion
Faith is very scientific. It is a process of discovery of truth which uses rigorous and repeatable instruments to discover what is true. It is strengthened by questioning and challenging itself, and can be communicated to others effectively only afterwards.

Faith includes all the essential elements and processes of science including logic, hypothesis, revision, and criticism, but omits the physical tools in place of philosophical and historical ones. In short, faith is science without microscopes.

But, as happens to all scientists eventually, I got scooped (had someone publish my idea before me). Paul beat me to the press (by about 2 millennia): 1Th 5:21 Prove all things; hold fast that which is good.

It is humbling and encouraging knowing that this is nothing new; this is not some big new idea. It was written by a guy a long time before I was born. I just realized now what God was talking about all these years. So now I’ll smirk every time I see scientists attacking faith on the basis that it is “unscientific”.

Objections
"But science is so much simpler. Unlike faith, there is clear data which proves or disproves a thing."

I used to think that. I used to argue as follows. While science did have more precise instruments, it did not mean that faith was any less valid. A postal scale may be more precise than a fruit scale, but that doesn't mean that a fruit scale is wrong.

Now I don't even have to use that argument any more. Now that I have been in science, and read about science, and published in science, I can say without a doubt: science sucks. It's not precise. It's not clean. It's not unbiased. It's messy. It's usually very messy. And that's why there's so much contention within science. "Why Most Published Research Results are False" was an article that came out which argued this point.

Faith has to use old books instead of the scientific literature, philosophy instead of mathematics, and history instead of observation. As biology is not better than astronomy because microscopes are better than telescopes, so science is not better than faith.

"It's no use arguing, we're not going to change each other's minds. You can just talk in circles with matters of faith."

People argue in circles both about science and about faith. People talk in circles usually because they don't listen to each other.

The only reason that an argument is guaranteed to go nowhere is if the thing contended has no common basis. "Deep-dish pizza is the best" "Nu-uh" "Uh-huh". This argument is based on internal feeling and preference, not on something common. When we agree on reason, we can have productive arguments (I've written on this before here).

If the argument is "I believe in God." "I feel that's stupid" then of course it will go nowhere. But if the disagreement is on matters of fact ("Jesus lived in 30AD") or matters of truth ("God could not exist and allow evil") then these things can be discussed productively and minds can be changed... unless of course you're so close-minded as to refuse to listen to rational argument. But of course, that is not the case.

As far as the mind-changing goes, I have witnessed three of my closest (and smartest) friends change from Deism, Atheism and Agnosticism to Christianity. Much of this was because of argument. Simply because you have not seen a thing does not mean it does not exist (Don't say all swans are white; don't say all arguments on faith don't change minds :).

"Philosophy isn't true like science."

Scientists try every so hard to cling to the keys of the gates of Truth. Their efforts are simply laughable.

Science is a branch of philosophy. It used to be even be called philosophy (Bacon, its inventor, called it "Natural philosophy"). Science pretends it can know things without the branch of philosophy which studies knowledge (Epistemology). It tries to describe the things which are, without considering what exactly are true things (Ontology). It dismisses the most important questions about life, purpose and origin as being either purely biological ("to procreate") or as unknowable.

How do scientists argue their points? With logic (a branch of philosophy). Science uses the language of philosophy, but claims it is superior to it. It is as silly as the sentence, "I have no need of the English Language!" Every discovery of science depends on the foundation of philosophy which supports it.

Philosophers don't use microscopes, but they know some things more certainly than scientists do. Their tools are different, but that does not invalidate them.

We can overlook this utter foolishness of scientific hubris and believe what is reasonable: Philosophy is a way to discover truth, along with science.

"Isn't science the opposite of faith?"

I'm sorry, but that is not the kind of 'faith' I'm talking about. Of course you could always talk about something else and call it faith, and define that as "believing something against the evidence," but then you're talking about what I call 'insanity'.

What I mean by faith is simply trust. We trust in all sorts of things. I, for example, have faith in elevators. The engineers who designed them had faith in Universal Gravitation. In precisely the same way, I have faith in God.

We certainly can believe in things we don't see. For example, we believe in things called electrons. Why? Because people have indirectly observed them, and so we now have faith that such things exist. Like the Bible says, "Now faith is ... the evidence of things not seen." (Hbr 11:1). Electrons being 9.1 x 10^-31kg, we cannot see them, but we have lots of good evidence that they exist, so we have faith in electrons. God is exactly the same (except the evidence is quite a bit better for Him than electrons).

Clash of the Titans?

I was asked at an interview at Yale medical school to explain my position on the conflict between Science and Faith. I have often been asked this question, and have frequently thought about it. Most often, the questioner means the conflict between Reason and Faith.

The question has always struck me as an odd one; I have never really seen a conflict but have heard several arguments in favor of one. There is the political conflict, the peer-pressure argument, the straw man conflict and the philosophical conflict.

But don't all the smart people believe in science? Historically speaking, the most scientific of people have been men of vibrant faith. Newton wrote over a million words on the Bible and Kepler was very devout. Bacon, the man who came up with the very idea of science, openly ridiculed science apart from faith. He said he'd rather "...believe all the fables in the Legend... than that this universal frame is without a mind." Even contemporarily, there are many brilliant scientists who have sincere faiths. Francis Collins, the co-cracker of the human genome describes his faith in "The Language of God."

The political argument begins with, "Well what about Galileo?" The view being that the Church (which the questioner assumes is the same as the philosophical concept as Faith) persecuted the noble and humble scientist for his findings. This argument is silly for a number of reasons. Firstly, the story is wrong. Galileo was a mischievous man who, while brilliant, was less than shrews when he publicly mocked the most powerful man in the world and got off with house arrest.

More importantly, political groups fighting, be they ancient or modern, does not mean that there is any actual conflict that matters for you and me. Politicians fight over all sorts of meaningless things that may or may not be real. The important question is not, "Are people fighting about it?" (because the answer is always yes) but rather, "Do I see a conflict?"

This brings us to the Philosophical conflict. The assumption here is there is some underlying conflict between reason and faith. There are two Titans; if one is winning, the other must be losing. The most immature of these views is the straw man and it goes something like this. "Faith is believing something in contrary to proof. Reason is believing something because of proof." My apologies to a majority of my readers who hold this view, but this is plainly stupid. I have been a conservative Christian for a decade and have never heard such a view preached. This is a straw man, assuming a definition of faith that no one believes and then glorying in the carnage of straw.

There is, however, a legitimate conflict between reason and faith for most people that is more than imagined. This dispute arises because of certain assumptions we have made as a society. Primarily: the only true things are measurable. Gravity, which is measured to be 9.81 m/s^2 is real; God, who cannot be measured, is therefore not real, at least not in the same sense. He may exist in the same place my preference for vanilla ice cream exists: an unreal and totally subjective place.This assumption about the universe is more un-testable than the God it purports to make irrelevant. How do you test the statement: “everything that is real is testable.”

In fact, you know that the opposite is true. You know for certain that you think, but there is no instrument that can prove this. Machines can prove blood flow to a brain, but not thought or conscious existence. Every day you depend on the laws of logic (like "a thing is itself") which have no basis in the measurable or scientific. Science itself depends on what you knew was a certainty in kindergarten, that Cinderella is Cinderella and not Snow White.

There is no fundamental conflict between reason and faith, unless you have an insupportably narrow definition of reason. There are immature arguments, excuses based in bad history, and a deceptive but pervasive view about truth. If you really think through it, there is actually no fundamental conflict.

I am a reasonable man: I am a published scientist, a nearly-graduated civil engineer and an aspiring doctor. I am a man of faith: I have been diligent in studying the Word of God and living it though serving the poor and loving my neighbor. Amidst the corpses of many fallen straw-men, here I stand, my feet firmly planted on the rock of Truth, my eyes pointed towards heaven, unmoved by the whining wind, protesting against my existence as a man of faith and reason.

Interview and a bonus!

Yale Interview
So I had an interview at Yale last Friday. It went well besides the fact that it got to 6 degrees. I think that is the coldest air I've ever felt. Besides that, the Yale experience was great and I had my most interesting interview yet. Usually interviewers ask you about why you want to go to medical school, questions about your application, etc. They want to see if you're the same in person as on paper.
My interviewer seemed convinced of all that before I even walked in. He was somewhat portly and sat comfortably back in his office chair. He had a South African accent and had a jovial demeanor. We talked comfortably and he laughed with great belly-laughter at quips and jokes I'd make. The first part of the conversation was rather high-level discussion on international work and the philosophy thereof. I discovered he was a classmate of Paul Farmer at Harvard, so was well familiar with his work.

He had done his research on me. In addition to reading through my application (which seemed rare for interviewers), he actually searched for the articles I wrote to the Daily Bruin and then read them. I had gathered by this point that he had atheistic leanings, and when he told me that he had read my articles, I had a pang of fear. Then he asked me how I reconciled science and faith.

I was off-guard for this question at first, but talked through it until I was speaking coherently. As I described my views, he was tracking and had even read a book that I had. I then started asking him questions. I asked if he was a particularly religious man. He said no, but had an interest nevertheless for his children's sake. He commented weakly that he personally wished he could be like I was, that is, with the two reconciled. I asked where specifically he thought there was conflict. He stopped and thought for a long time. He finally said that it was religious people who caused him not to believe. I told him that you ought not judge a faith by its parishioners any more than you judge a scientific theory by the behavior of scientists; he ought to look at the teachings of Jesus to know what Christianity truly was.

The conversation moved on to other things, but at the end of the interview, he thanked me with genuine sincerity for my opinions.

I walked out of the interview and said a prayer of thanks. God sent me all the way to New Haven, put me before an important doctor, and then had me defend the faith and share the beautiful consistency of Christianity to a man otherwise isolated from Christians. I never expected I'd be "...being brought before kings and rulers for my name's sake" while interviewing (Luke 21:12). What an opportunity! Praise God!


P.S. - G.K. Chesterton
I'm very disappointed I hadn't heard of him earlier. It would have so greatly reduced the severity with which I have in the past banged my head against the wall. He is a magician, with his prose releasing us from the chains of super-rationalism, and sprinkles us with fairy dust, allowing us to ascend into the heavens (I think I sub-consciously ripped that off one of his reviewers).

But for the moment it is possible in the same solely practical manner to give a general answer touching what in actual human history keeps men sane. Mysticism keeps men sane. As long as you have mystery you have health; when you destroy mystery you create morbidity. The ordinary man has always been sane because the ordinary man has always been a mystic. He has permitted the twilight. He has always had one foot in earth and the other in fairyland. He has always left himself free to doubt his gods; but (unlike the agnostic of to-day) free also to believe in them. He has always cared more for truth than for consistency. If he saw two truths that seemed to contradict each other, he would take the two truths and the contradiction along with them. His spiritual sight is stereoscopic, like his physical sight: he sees two different pictures at once and yet sees all the better for that.

Incredible! That was from Orthodoxy, which I'm halfway through.


P.P.S. - Love
I was over at Andy's in Orange and I saw this cartoon. It reminded me of a previous blog I wrote about women. It came from a webcomic called xkcd.com .