Do I believe in evolution?

            Whenever anyone asks if I believe in evolution, I don’t know how to respond. Not because I’m not sure what I believe, just that I don’t know what they mean. Do they want to know whether or not I accept the observations of Charles Darwin, when he noticed that animals can adapt to unique and changing environments. I absolutely believe that animals can and do adapt, often resulting in speciation, the creation of a new and separate species. But when most people ask if I believe in evolution, they really mean, do I believe that the diversity of life on Earth can be wholly and entirely explained as a product of random and spontaneous evolutionary processes. If that’s the question then no, I don’t believe in it. 

           You'll notice I added two key words: random and spontaneous. Random means by pure chance, like rolling a set of five dice and coming up with yahtzee each and every time. That’s not going to happen. Spontaneous means occurring on it’s own, with nothing to initiate or guide it, like when my wallet gets up and walks to the other side of the room to hide under my jacket, all on its own.

            There’s nothing that Darwin observed that would indicate spontaneity. In fact, it was only after something in the environment triggered a change that speciation occurred, like an earthquake splitting an island in two, or London’s soot turning the trees a few shades of grey darker. (Don‘t worry; it was only about fifteen shades of grey, not fifty.) And nothing that he described would indicate randomness either. The ability to adapt in response to change is actually strong evidence for a Creator. If my Wizards and Dragons videogame gets harder as my character gains experience points, I attribute it to good programming, by whoever wrote the code years before I ever became a level seven elven ranger, not to random glitches in the software. All kinds of things “evolve” over time: cars, TVs, cell phones, and refrigerators. With phones, it seems like new versions appear every few months, each one just a little more developed than the last. Does anyone believe that’s random, or happening on its own? Of course not; we all know it’s carefully orchestrated by greedy corporate bigwigs who like to steal children’s candy while rubbing their hands together and saying, “Ehhhx-cellent” in a thin, reedy voice.

            So yes, I do believe in the principle of evolution, the observed process of adaptability in species, programmed and guided by God. Do I believe in the Theory of Evolution, wherein all life randomly and spontaneously grew out of electrostatically charged amino acids? Not so much. 

Baby Bear Planet

            There is a term used by some in physics to describe how everything in our world is set up perfectly for life to exist. Based on the children’s story of Goldilocks and the three bears, the expression “Goldilocks planet” sums up how everything that makes life possible on Earth is “just right.”

            From the moment of the Big Bang, when the very laws of physics were written, the strength of attraction between subatomic particles had to be exact–too strong and the universe wouldn’t expand, too weak and matter couldn’t form.

            The uniqueness of the water molecule is another example of just right properties. Every other element and molecule–I know of only one rare exception–shrinks as it cools, becoming denser. Water molecules form a unique structure as they freeze, spreading out. Because of this, ice floats. That might not seem like a big deal, but if the water on top of a lake or river became denser as it froze, it would sink, and the warmer water underneath would rise to the surface. This warm water would cool, freeze, and sink, and the process would repeat until the lake were entirely frozen, killing everything in it. Because of water’s unique freezing properties, life on Earth can exist.

            There are countless more examples of “just right” principles. Some think that like Goldilocks, we just sort of stumbled into a place that happened to be ideal, like some big, happy accident. How convenient for Goldilocks that everything was just right. The fact is, everything was just right for Goldilocks, not by some random happenstance, but because Mama Bear and Papa Bear worked very hard to make everything just right for Baby Bear. The temperature of the porridge, the height of the chair, and the softness of the bed were designed and created for Baby Bear by loving parents.

            We are not Goldilockses, who just happened to stumble upon this universe. We have a caring Heavenly Father who planned and worked things out for us. This is not a Goldilocks planet, but a Baby Bear Planet, where everything, by divine design, is just right.

Top Ten Benefits to Losing a Finger.

1. My nail-biting habit is 10% cured.
2. I can have the most authentic Frodo costume ever.
3. I was never going to impress anyone with my piano playing, but now, if I play the same song, people will say, "Wow! You did that with a missing finger?"
4.  I do a good shadow puppet of a dog.
5. Time off work.
6. It makes me feel like a pirate.

7. Oven mitts are roomier.
8. Chicks dig scars.
9. I haev a prefect excsue for any typos I mkae.
10. It makes my other fingers look taller.

In the Fire.

            The book of Daniel contains the story of Shadrach, Meshach, and Abed-nego, three young men who refused to worship the king’s idol, despite his promise that all who disobeyed would be thrown into a fiery furnace. From Daniel 3:17 we see their faith in God’s power of deliverance. “Our God whom we serve is able to deliver us from the burning fiery furnace, and he will deliver us out of thine hand, O king.”

            If they were anything like me, they would have been certain that God would not let me be thrown into the fire. At the point when they were being tossed in, did they ask, “God, why aren’t you protecting us?” I would have. God did protect them, but not in the way they probably expected. They were thrown in, but they weren’t burned.

            In my life, I have often had moments when I felt God’s reassurance that things would work out. Sometimes however, the way out I was expecting doesn’t show up and I think, “What happened? Why wasn’t I protected?” It’s only after I’m in the fire that I realize, I’m not getting burned.

I did it!

'Nough said!

A (belated) Holiday Poem

For this week's post, I want to share a poem I wrote. I hope you enjoy it.

T'was the Evening of Christmas by Evan Joseph

T'was the evening of Christmas and all through the house,

There were tons of new gadgets: a new keyboard and mouse.

The Blu-Ray was open, and so was the Wii,

Each one hooked up to a sep’rate TV.

The children were setting iphones by their beds

With earbuds from ipods plugged into their heads.

And Ma with her Kindle and I with my Nook,

Were each settled in with a digital book.

Grandma was typing, all tippity-tap

On the notebook computer that sat on her lap,

Googling and asking, “Now, what’s all this hype,

With Twitter, and Myspace, and Facebook, and Skype?”

And none of us noticed, all snuggly and warm

The weather outside was beginning to storm.

The clear sky was turning all cloudy and foul;

The wind was a-whipping and starting to howl.

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter

I paused the Tivo to see what was the matter.

Away to the window I flew like a flash,

Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.

The wind had ripped off of the sycamore tree

An oversized branch just as quick as can be.

It hit a transformer, whose sparkling glow

Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below.

The box blew apart with a bright flash of spark.

The whole house got suddenly quiet and dark.

Little Timmy ran in and he cried with a shout,

“The internet’s down and the power’s gone out!”

Then Suzy chimed in with a terrible cry,

“If I can’t check my email I think I’ll just die.”

We sat in the dark for a minute or two,

None of us knowing just what we should do.

But then I thought back to when I was a kid

And remembered a wonderful thing that we did.

I got out a candle, a long yellow taper,

And a book that was made up of actual paper.

I gathered my wondering fam’ly around,

Folks on the sofa and kids on the ground.

I opened the cover and found the right spot:

A story I knew from when I was a tot.

Before I could read them the very first line,

Timmy said, “Dad, will this take too much time?”

And Suzy was certain the whole thing would stink,

“We’re too old for stories, Dad, wouldn’t you think?”

I told them to wait and to give it a shot

Before they decide it was worth it or not.

They grumbled a little, a moment or so,

Then finally decided to give it a go.

They sat and they listened, and after a while,

That frowny complexion turned into a smile.

They sat a bit taller and inched ‘cross the floor

As if they were trying to hear even more.

And as we were nearing the very best part,

The lights flickered on, we all jumped with a start.  

Without even thinking, not missing a beat.

Timmy hopped up to his quick little feet.

“Let’s finish!” he said with a grin on his lip,

Then ran to the light switch and gave it a flip.

We finished our tale by the soft candlelight,

Reading together well into the night.

Then Timmy and Suzy got ready for bed;

I tucked each one in with a kiss on the head.

To each child I said as I turned out the light,

“Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night.”

Taking offense

            Years ago, I read an article in a college newspaper. They were interviewing a black athlete who attended a college with very few black students. They asked if people ever said anything to him that was offensive. I’ve always remembered his response. He replied that sometimes people had said some things that were offensive, but he knew they didn’t mean to give offense, so he wasn’t bothered by it.

            As I thought about his response, it dawned on me that when someone “says something offensive,” there are two possible reasons. First, they didn’t mean anything by it, so it would silly to take offense when none was given. (It might even be considered stealing, taking something that was not given.) The second alternative is that they meant it, but to let someone so rude “offend you” would be giving them too much power over your emotions, so it would be silly to let them. Either way, it makes no sense to be offended. On one side you’re being hyper-sensitive, which isn’t healthy, and on the other side you’re allowing a mean person a great deal of power and influence over your emotional well-being, which also isn’t healthy.

            Offense is like really bad advice: just because someone offers it doesn’t mean you need to take it.