Is there design in nature?

You are out on a walk. You see a stick leaning against a tree. You observe the stick and the tree. From your observation, can you conclude that it is an evidence of intelligent activity? Perhaps not. Branches often break from trees, and sometimes lean against a tree. Such an event does not require any special explanation. Of course, a person might have placed the stick against the tree for a purpose, but there is no need to invoke this explanation if a more “natural” explanation is available.

But suppose you find three sticks leaning against each other in such a way that removal of any one stick would cause the other two to fall to the ground. Such a “tripod” could not be the result of a gradual accumulation of sticks. All three sticks must have been placed simultaneously. Is it reasonable to suppose that this could happen by chance? The probability of such an event happening by itself is unreasonably low. An intelligent person must have arranged the sticks for a purpose that may or may not be evident.

The key to understanding design

What distinguishes between intelligent design in the tripod arrangement as contrasted with the leaning stick? Perhaps two features: complexity and functional interdependence. The complexity of the “tripod” is represented by its three parts. Its functional interdependence is seen in the fact that none of the parts can be removed without destroying the tripod. A structure that is composed of three or more parts, all of which must come into relationship simultaneously, is best interpreted as the result of intelligent design. Although it can always be argued that such a structure could have originated by chance, such an interpretation would stretch the credulity of most people.

Can such an argument be reasonably extended to nature? If so, do we see evidence in nature of intelligent design?

The argument from design

For centuries the idea that nature resulted from intelligent design was accepted without question or controversy. The Scriptures affirm that God can be seen in nature. For example, listen to the psalmist: “O Lord, our Lord, how majestic is your name in all the earth! When I consider your heavens, the work of your fingers..., what is man that you are mindful of him?” (Psalm 8:1, 4, 5 NIV). Perhaps Paul makes the strongest case in Romans 1:19 and 20, where he argues that the evidence of God in nature is so clear that no one has an excuse for denying His existence, power, and sovereignty. For many authors, the evidences of design in nature point to the Creator God of the Bible. William Paley is a case in point.

Paley and the argument from contrivance. Paley claimed1 that nature is full of features that show evidence of design. He called them “contrivances,” and compared them to human-made devices or machines. Paley’s argument can be phrased as: The existence in living organisms of features that function like mechanical devices to achieve some purpose are evidence that they were created by a Designer.

Paley’s most famous illustration is a watch. Suppose you found a watch, having never seen one before. Would it not be obvious that the watch had been crafted and was designed for a purpose, even if the purpose was not understood? Likewise, many features of living organisms function as machines. If we recognize the activities of a designer when we observe mechanical devices, we can also recognize the activities of a designer when we observe similar features in living organisms. According to Paley, nature exhibits the properties of design, leading us to recognize the God of nature.

Charles Darwin and the argument against design. Early opposition to Paley came from Charles Darwin. Darwin admitted that even though he was “charmed” by Paley’s arguments, he could not blame God for designing all the evil in nature.2 Darwin proposed that God was so far removed from nature that He did not intervene and was not responsible for the state of nature. In effect, Darwin claimed that nature was not designed, and therefore did not point to a designer. He proposed that unassisted natural processes were sufficient to explain the adaptive features of living organisms, through the process of natural selection. Apparently, Darwin would rather have God good but in the distance than close to us and evil. Most of us would probably agree. But was Darwin’s argument from natural selection valid?

Darwin himself identified a method by which his theory might be refuted. In Chapter 6 of his book, the Origin of Species,3 Darwin stated: “If it could be demonstrated that any complex organ existed, which could not possibly have been formed by numerous successive, slight modifications, my theory would absolutely break down.”

Darwin claimed he could find no such cases, but others have made the opposite claim.

Arguments for design

Clearly, the argument from design is not valid if nature is not designed. Darwin shifted the focus of the debate to whether nature is truly designed. Thus, our interest focuses on the argument for design.

The argument from “irreducible complexity.” Michael Behe of Lehigh University in Pennsylvania is one of the current leaders of argument for design.4 He bases his argument on what he calls “irreducible complexity.” For an illustration, he uses an ordinary mousetrap composed of a platform, a bait pan, a lever, a “guillotine,” a spring, and some staples. The parts of the mousetrap work together to perform a function—catching mice. Let the mousetrap represent an organ that had evolved from some simpler ancestral structure. What would the ancestral structure look like, and what function would it have? How could a mousetrap be simplified, yet retain any function? Imagine removing any one of the components of the mousetrap—the resulting structure would have no function at all. The mousetrap is irreducibly complex. If any such example could be found among living organisms, Darwin’s theory would “absolutely break down.” According to Behe, the cilium is one such example.

A cilium is a small hair-like structure that moves back and forth in a fluid medium, providing a method of swimming in certain one-celled organisms. Cilia are also present in our respiratory tracts, and their movements help remove particles from our lungs. At least three parts are required for active movement: a part that moves; a link to an energy supply; and an “anchor” to control the position of the movable part. In the case of a cilium, the moving part is composed of molecules of tubulin; energy for movement is supplied through the activities of molecules of dynein; and the parts of the cilium are held together by molecules of nexin. Without any one of these, the cilium has no function. Thus the cilium appears to be irreducibly complex.

As one might expect, those who are philosophically committed to evolution refuse to accept the argument from irreducible complexity. However, this rejection is based on philosophical, not empirical grounds, as evidenced by the total lack of demonstration of evolutionary claims.

The argument from improbability. Some circumstances seem so unexpected that one suspects there must be something more than chance involved. Most scientists are willing to attribute a result to chance if it could be expected to occur by chance as often as five times in 100 trials. Some scientists will lower the acceptable odds to one chance in 1,000 trials, depending on the nature of the event. But there are limits to what anyone will reasonably accept as the result of chance. If the probability of an event is exceedingly low, it is reasonable to suppose that it did not happen as the result of chance. If the event also seems to have a purpose, it is reasonable to suppose that the event was guided by an intelligent mind.

Darwin admitted that he “shuddered” when he thought of the problem of the evolution of the human eye. He tried to make a case for the evolution of the eye by pointing to a variety of less-complex eyes in other animals, and suggesting that they might represent stages through which a more complex eye might have evolved. However, it is not clear that he convinced even himself. The evolution of the eye would require an elaborate series of improbable events that most people would consider unlikely to occur without a designer.5

The argument from mystery

Many arguments for design have been based on a lack of understanding of a particular process. Before the mechanism for the circulation of the blood was understood, one might have been tempted to claim that blood circulation was a mystery beyond our understanding, and this in itself was evidence for the workings of a superior intellect. Problems arose when the mechanism was discovered, seemingly making God no longer necessary. Examples such as this have led to a general suspicion of any type of argument for design. Such “arguments from mystery” contain two features: ignorance of the mechanism of a particular phenomenon, and an appeal that the phenomenon is a mystery beyond our understanding. Hence we have the “god-of-the-gaps” argument.

The argument from irreducible complexity should be contrasted with the argument from mystery. The first is based on two principal features: the system must have an identified function, and the components of the system must be known and identified. Thus, this is an argument from knowledge, and is completely different from the argument from mystery.

Examples of design in nature

Many examples of design in nature can be described, but we shall note a few here.

The existence of the universe.6 The existence of the universe depends on a precise combination of finely balanced physical constants. If any of several were different, the universe could not exist. For example, if the electromagnetic force were slightly greater, atomic nuclei would not exist. Other physical constants include the values of the gravitational constant and the strong and weak nuclear forces.

The appropriateness of conditions on earth for the support of life.7 The earth differs from other planets in ways that permit life to exist. If any of these conditions were not present, life as we know it could not exist on earth. For example, the earth’s atmospheric composition is unique among planets in our solar system.

The existence of life. Life requires both proteins and nucleic acids. Neither of these materials is found in the absence of life. Both must be present in order for life to exist. For example, protein production requires the presence of both protein enzymes and nucleic acids.

Unique genes are found in certain groups of organisms. Different groups of organisms have different genes that are not found in other groups. New genes require new information. It seems highly unlikely that new information can generate itself through random processes, even if starting with an extra copy of a gene. Additional discoveries are needed to help clarify this point.

The human mind. The human mind appears to be exceedingly complex, substantially beyond what is necessary for natural selection. The mechanism for certain types of mental activity seems beyond our ability to understand. For example, science has no good explanation for human self-awareness or for our capacity for language and abstract thinking.

Other examples of design include the existence of the genetic code, the process of protein production in living cells, the process of nucleic acid production in living cells, the senses, gene regulation, the complex chemistry of the photosynthetic pathway; sex, etc. While some conjectures have been offered as to how these features might have arisen without intelligent design, the proposed processes seem so highly improbable that intelligent design seems more plausible to many scholars.

Counter-arguments against design

Several objections have been raised to the argument for design. We will briefly note four types:

Pseudo-design.8 Patterns may form as the result of natural processes, with no need to invoke an intelligent designer. For example, a snowflake has an intricate pattern, but no one suggests that God especially intervened to create this pattern. Rather, the pattern can be explained in terms of physical processes and molecular properties. Complex, non-linear systems frequently exhibit unexpected properties that “emerge” naturally without any intelligent input. However, the complexity of the required initial conditions, such as the necessary existence of a computer, seems dependent on a designer.

Natural selection can be considered a type of pseudo-design argument. If organisms can be modified by natural processes to fit their environment, there is no need to propose that God specially intervened to design them. A serious weakness of this argument is that it presupposes a structure to be modified. Recent advances in molecular biology have revealed the existence of levels of interdependent complexity far beyond the expectations of those who developed the theory of evolution. The problem of the origins of biological structures appear to provide a powerful argument for design.

Defective design.9 Many features of nature appear to be flawed. It is sometimes argued that an intelligent creator would do a better job of designing nature. Some examples of allegedly defective design include the “thumb” of the giant panda and the structural arrangement of the retina of the eye of vertebrates. However, no one has shown that these structures function poorly, removing the basis for the argument. Furthermore, imperfections are not unexpected in a world that was designed by God, but has been corrupted by the activities of Satan.

Imposed design.10 Humans like to organize observations into patterns that may be artificial. An example would be seeing familiar shapes in the clouds—there is nothing real that needs an explanation, except perhaps to wonder why people do such things. Most scientists reject this argument, since the practice of science depends on the existence of real patterns to be explained. All observers agree that nature at least appears to be designed.

Evil design.11 Many features of organisms seem “designed” for killing or causing disease or pain. The malarial parasite is an example. It does not seem right to blame God for designing the causes of death and disease. On the other hand, if God did not design the “evil” things of nature, why claim that He designed the “good” things of nature? The presence of evil in nature does not refute the argument for design, but may raise questions about the nature or character of the designer. The biblical explanation is that this world is the battleground between two designers, a Creator and a corrupter. The result is that nature sends a mixed signal; both good and evil are present.12

Conclusion

The “argument for design” was widely ignored in the century after Darwin, in part because knowledge of living systems was so incomplete that the gaps could be filled in with imagination. As biological knowledge has increased, the argument for design has been revived and expressed in more sophisticated ways, such as the argument from “irreducible complexity.” The existence of certain features that could not survive in intermediate stages is evidence of a Designer. It is also evidence of a Designer God who created by special intervention—Creation—and not through a continuous process such as evolution. The argument from irreducible complexity is an argument that supports an interventionist, discontinuous creation.

According to Paul in Romans, nature is clearly designed, but not all are open to recognize the Designer. Nature can be properly understood only in the light of God’s special revelation in the Scriptures. Guided by the Bible, we can join with the psalmist in praise to the Creator: “The heavens are telling the glory of God; and the firmament proclaims His handiwork. . . . Their voice goes out through all the Earth, and their words to the end of the world” (Psalm 19:1, 4).

by L. James Gibson (Ph.D., L.L.U.)

Coal: How Did It Originate?

We may well call it black diamonds. Every basket is power and civilization." -- Ralph Waldo Emerson

Call it black diamond. Call it basket of power. Or call it coal. It is one of the most useful natural resources found in the earth. It's composed of vegetable matter, modified by heat, pressure, catalytic activity, and decay. But how did the vegetable matter originate? The question has long been a point of controversy. The majority of those who have studied coal believe that it is derived from natural organic accumulations such as peat bogs, marshes, and swamps that became buried. A minority suggests that some, if not most, coal developed from plant material transported from elsewhere.

In the 1700s and early 1800s, students of the earth largely held that coal came from plant materials buried during a major catastrophe (Noah's Flood). These individuals pointed to evidence suggesting that the formation of coal did not resemble any modern processes. They observed that modern bogs, swamps, and similar areas are not comparable to coal seams in lateral extent, depth, and composition.1

Catastrophic burial or gradual accumulation?

With the rise of uniformitarianism,2 scientists began to explain all geological phenomena by observable processes. Charles Lyell, who promoted the uniformitarian principle, visited some of the coal regions, both in Europe and North America.3 He and other researchers noted the association of upright petrified trees with seams of coal. They argued that coal could not be the product of burial during a worldwide catastrophe because the growth of trees associated with coal beds required too much time (Figure 1). This observation and argument were important factors in shifting opinion about the origin of coal from that of rapid accumulation and burial of plant debris to processes of gradual growth, accumulation, and burial.

Whichever view one finds most convincing-catastrophic burial or gradual accumulation--depends somewhat upon the paradigm with which one approaches the subject. Since the author and most of the readers of this article hold a worldview influenced by the Bible, we will concentrate more on evidences that support biblical history. However, some of the arguments for growth and gradual accumulation must be examined also.

Most coal is clearly composed of vegetable matter such as tree trunks, branches, bark, leaves, needles, and macerated plant debris. Carboniferous coals (usually the harder kind) are composed of ferns, club mosses, horsetails, and other plants not classified with the seed-bearing plants (evergreen and deciduous trees and flowering plants). The softer coals (usually higher in the geological column) are mostly the product of buried evergreen and deciduous trees. Because coal reveals that it is composed of plant remains, the plants must have grown where the coal is now located (autochthonous) or they must have been transported to the present location of the coal beds (allochthonous).

Questions from coal beds

Perhaps the first obvious question one might ask is, "Does a coal bed resemble a buried peat bog or marsh?" To answer that question we need to know something about bogs and marshes. A peat bog is usually composed of a special type of moss (Sphagnum). There may be other plants associated with the peat, but the dominant plant is Sphagnum moss. A marsh or swamp may have a greater variety of plant types--mostly the kinds of plants that thrive in wet environments. For peat bogs, the answer to the above question is a clear "No." Most coal is clearly not buried peat.4 For a swamp or marsh, the answer is not so clear, especially for the Carboniferous coals. Many of the plant types found in these coal beds are extinct.5 We cannot be certain that they preferred a wetland habitat. Study of modern relatives of those plants indicates that most of them were not swamp dwellers. The Cretaceous to Eocene coals were derived mostly from forest trees. Some trees such as the cypress often grow in swamplands today, but many of the others could not survive in such an environment.

Another obvious question is, "Do modern wetland environments provide an adequate model for the great deposits of coal?" For this question the answer is more definite, and was used by early geologists to support their Flood hypothesis. Although a few swamps and marshes cover large areas, for example the Dismal Swamp of Virginia, in the U.S.A., many coal seams are much more extensive. The Pittsburgh bed covers parts of the states of Pennsylvania, Ohio, and West Virginia, U.S.A., an area of 5,000 square kilometers, and averages a little more than two meters thick. The Appalachian coal basin extends over some 180,000 square kilometers. The extent of minable coal runs into the thousands of millions of tons. The Powder River basin of Wyoming, U.S.A. (30,000 square kilometers) is calculated to have nearly 22 billion tons of minable coal. The Latrobe Valley in Australia is estimated to be able to yield 70 billion tons of coal. The depth or thickness of coal beds is even less comparable with modern organic accumulations.

Problems for accumulation theory

Under more detailed examination, problems for the autochthonous theory arise. Some coals contain animal remains, usually sea animals.6 One common example is Spirorbis, a small coiled tubeworm less than 5 mm in diameter (Figure 2). The presence of a sea worm in peat or swamp beds that are considered to be autochthonous does not fit well into a uniformitarian hypothesis. To avoid this problem, Spirorbis is said to have lived in a freshwater environment during the Carboniferous period even though it is commonly found throughout the geological column and in modern oceans attached to corals, mollusks, and seaweeds.7 Obviously, a marine worm mixed with coal is an argument for the sea being involved in the formation of coal.

Coal often shows detailed preservation of the original organic debris. If coal were the product of plant accumulations in bogs and marshes, some degree of decay would be expected. Sometimes exquisite fossils of fern fronds and leaves are located directly below the root systems of standing petrified trees (Figure 3). If the trees truly grew where they now stand, any organic remains such as leaves or fern fronds would have decayed during the time required for the growth of the trees and before burial and petrification.

One of the strongest arguments for coal being plant debris buried in place comes from the "roots" (Stigmaria) of the upright petrified trees associated with the coal. These are giant clubmosses with trunks a meter in diameter and up to 35 meters high. The Stigmaria, usually several centimeters in diameter and sometimes many meters in length, support numerous "rootlets" (appendages) that penetrate into the sediments (Figure 4). They can be likened to a giant bottle brush in appearance. The radiation of these appendages into the sediments is considered to be evidence of their being in growth position.8

Controversy over the nature of the "roots" of Stigmaria has waged ever since the study of coal began, but as yet no clear consensus has developed. Modern clubmosses (small trailing plants seldom over a meter high) have underground creeping rhizomes similar in structure to the Stigmaria of the giant clubmosses. But if the Stigmaria of these clubmosses are underground creeping rhizomes, where are the true roots? None have been found with these fossil giants. Perhaps these Stigmaria served the function of true roots as well as propagating more shoots.

Although superficially the Stigmaria with their spreading appendages look as if they are in their position of growth, certain details suggest otherwise. Usually, the Stigmaria are isolated pieces unconnected with the base of any tree. Yet even these pieces show the appendages spreading out into the sediments. The trunks of the large upright petrified clubmosses are hollow and filled with sediments. Occasionally, pieces of Stigmaria were washed in with the muds and sands that filled the hollow stumps.9 In these cases also, the appendages radiate outward from where they are attached in spiral rows to the Stigmaria. Apparently, the appendages were sufficiently stiff to prevent collapse when buried in the mud and sand. Perhaps the shale beds were slurries of mud in which the pieces of Stigmaria with appendages were carried. Or the Stigmaria and appendages along with fine sediments settled out of a muddy suspension of water. If pieces of severed Stigmaria were transported by water or mud, they might show a preferred current alignment. This has been reported at two locations in Nova Scotia, Canada, and in Holland.10

Although the problem of the Stigmaria and radiating appendages cannot be fully solved, a study of Stigmaria supports arguments for transport just as well as for growth in position.

Changing plant debris into coal

The process of changing plant debris into coal has been of interest for many years. Laboratory experiments have succeeded in changing plant tissue into coal in a year or less.11 Timbers used in ancient coal mines that have been re-entered in modern times are sometimes coalified. A recent important discovery has been the role of clay as a catalyst for the coalification process.12 If clay was a necessary ingredient for changing plant material to coal, a worldwide flood would better explain the source of clay than would a uniformitarian wetland environment.

The amount of vegetable matter necessary to produce a meter of coal is estimated to be somewhere between 5 and 20 meters, depending upon the hardness of the coal. Modern accumulations of plant remains (as in a peat bog) are seldom deeper than 10 to 20 meters. According to this formula, a 20-meter-deep bog would produce one to four meters of coal. Many coal seams are much thicker than that. Coal beds 30 meters thick are not uncommon. Some are more than 100 meters thick, and Australia contains one over 240 meters thick! The accumulation of vegetable matter 1,200 meters or more thick (5 x 240) needed to produce such thick coal deposits is astonishing, even when considered in a Flood model. However, unusual as it may be, a catastrophic accumulation of plant remains in a sinking basin is easier to visualize than the formation of in situ bogs of such dimensions.

Successive layers of coal separated by a few centimeters to a few meters of sediment are common. If these beds are autochthonous, the successive development of bogs or marshes one above another over ages of time is required. Bog and marsh environments require special conditions. The repeating of such conditions time after time to produce numerous successive levels of coal in the same location is unrealistic (Figure 5). The geologic processes that brought about the burial of one layer of vegetable matter would likely erase the conditions needed for the production of another bog in the same location.

The repeated transport and deposition of mats of floating plant flotsam and their subsequent burial provides a more reasonable explanation. Recent research suggests that tides, with their daily rise and fall of water, could be involved in the repeated transport and deposition of suspended plant debris.13

In the Indiana basin, I have observed rhythmic deposits (considered to be the result of tidal action) associated with the typical features of Carboniferous coal-bearing sediments. However, daily tidal fluctuations would deposit mud too rapidly to permit the growth of plants. Their presence in such deposits requires transport. Observations of floating trees reveal that with sufficient time and water many will float and sink upright.14

The catastrophic burial of plant debris and its subsequent change to coal is not accepted by most coal geologists. However, the dominant "peat bog" theory presents problems that have remained unanswered for more than a hundred years. A Flood model for the formation of coal answers some of these problems and provides a scientifically reasonable explanation for the origin of the vast quantities of coal that exist worldwide.

Harold G. Coffin (Ph.D., Univ. of Southern California)

Notes and References

1. Among the first to advance the diluvial origin of fossils and sedimentary strata was Nicolaus Steno (1630-1687). In his time these were novel suggestions. Other notable deluge geologists who followed him were John Woodward (1667-1727), and Jean-Andre Deluc (1727-1817).

2. The uniformitarian interpretation of earth history established especially by James Hutton and Charles Lyell attempts to apply present rates of geological processes to the past. For instance, average rates of erosion and sedimentation seen occurring today were assumed to be satisfactory models for understanding past similar processes.

3. Charles Lyell, "On the Upright Fossil Trees Found at Different Levels in the Coal Strata of Cumberland, Nova Scotia," Proc. Geol. Soc. London 4 (1843), pp. 176-178.

4. Wilfrid Francis, Coal, Its Formation and Composition (London: Edward Arnold Publishers Ltd., 1961).

5. A. C. Seward, Fossil Plants (New York: Hafner Pub. Co., Inc., 1898-1919, 1963).

6. Sergius Mamay and Ellis L. Yochelson, "Occurrence and Significance of Marine Animal Remains in American Coal Balls," U. S. Geol. Surv. Prof. Papers 354-I (1961), pp. 193-224.

7. Harold G. Coffin, "A Paleoecological Misinterpretation," Creation Res. Soc. Quart. 5 (1968), p. 85. Spirorbis (phylum Annelida) has a trochophore larva. Several other phyla also have species with trochophore larvae. No species with trochophore larvae have been found in fresh water.

8. W. E. Logan, "On the Character of the Beds of Clay Immediately Below the Coal-Seams of S. Wales," Proc. Geol. Soc. London 3 (1842), pp. 275-277. This interesting note by Logan was one of the first to point out the abundance of stigmaria and appendages in the underclays below coal seams. Logan proposed that this clay was the soil on which the coal-producing plants originated and the stigmaria and appendages represented roots still in situ. Research since then fails to support that these clays are soils. See Leonard G. Schultz, "Petrology of Underclays," Geol. Soc. Am. Bull. 69 (1958), pp. 363-402.

9. Richard Brown, "Section of the Lower Coal-Measures of the Sydney Coalfield, in the Island of Cape Breton," Quart. Jour. Geol. Soc. London, 6 (1850), p. 127. While doing research in the Nova Scotia, Canada coal beds, I also documented two examples of pieces of stigmaria inside hollow stumps. See Harold G. Coffin, "Research on the Classic Joggins Petrified Trees," Creation Res. Soc. Annual (1969), pp. 35-44, 70.

10. N. A. Rupke, "Sedimentary Evidence for the Allochthonous Origin of Stigmaria, Carboniferous, Nova Scotia," Geol. Soc. Am. Bull. 80 (1969), pp. 2109-2114; W. F. M. Kimpe and A. A. Thiadens, "On the Occurrence of Coal Raft Above and Rhizome Inclusions in Seam Finefrau B, South Limbourg, Holland," Proc. Third Inter. Cong. of Sedimentology, Groningen-Wageningen (1951), pp. 167-173.

11. John Larsen, "From Lignin to Coal in a Year," Nature 31 (March 28, 1985), p. 316.

12. R. Hayatsu, et al., "Artificial Coalification Study: Preparation and Characterization of Synthetic Macerals," Organic Geochemistry 6 (1984).

13. "Blame it on the Moon," Scientific American, February 1989, p. 18.

14. Harold G. Coffin, "The Puzzle of the Petrified Trees," College and University Dialogue 4:1 (1992), pp. 11-13, 30-31.

Is there design in nature?

You are out on a walk. You see a stick leaning against a tree. You observe the stick and the tree. From your observation, can you conclude that it is an evidence of intelligent activity? Perhaps not. Branches often break from trees, and sometimes lean against a tree. Such an event does not require any special explanation. Of course, a person might have placed the stick against the tree for a purpose, but there is no need to invoke this explanation if a more “natural” explanation is available.

But suppose you find three sticks leaning against each other in such a way that removal of any one stick would cause the other two to fall to the ground. Such a “tripod” could not be the result of a gradual accumulation of sticks. All three sticks must have been placed simultaneously. Is it reasonable to suppose that this could happen by chance? The probability of such an event happening by itself is unreasonably low. An intelligent person must have arranged the sticks for a purpose that may or may not be evident.

The key to understanding design

What distinguishes between intelligent design in the tripod arrangement as contrasted with the leaning stick? Perhaps two features: complexity and functional interdependence. The complexity of the “tripod” is represented by its three parts. Its functional interdependence is seen in the fact that none of the parts can be removed without destroying the tripod. A structure that is composed of three or more parts, all of which must come into relationship simultaneously, is best interpreted as the result of intelligent design. Although it can always be argued that such a structure could have originated by chance, such an interpretation would stretch the credulity of most people.

Can such an argument be reasonably extended to nature? If so, do we see evidence in nature of intelligent design?

The argument from design

For centuries the idea that nature resulted from intelligent design was accepted without question or controversy. The Scriptures affirm that God can be seen in nature. For example, listen to the psalmist: “O Lord, our Lord, how majestic is your name in all the earth! When I consider your heavens, the work of your fingers..., what is man that you are mindful of him?” (Psalm 8:1, 4, 5 NIV). Perhaps Paul makes the strongest case in Romans 1:19 and 20, where he argues that the evidence of God in nature is so clear that no one has an excuse for denying His existence, power, and sovereignty. For many authors, the evidences of design in nature point to the Creator God of the Bible. William Paley is a case in point.

Paley and the argument from contrivance. Paley claimed1 that nature is full of features that show evidence of design. He called them “contrivances,” and compared them to human-made devices or machines. Paley’s argument can be phrased as: The existence in living organisms of features that function like mechanical devices to achieve some purpose are evidence that they were created by a Designer.

Paley’s most famous illustration is a watch. Suppose you found a watch, having never seen one before. Would it not be obvious that the watch had been crafted and was designed for a purpose, even if the purpose was not understood? Likewise, many features of living organisms function as machines. If we recognize the activities of a designer when we observe mechanical devices, we can also recognize the activities of a designer when we observe similar features in living organisms. According to Paley, nature exhibits the properties of design, leading us to recognize the God of nature.

Charles Darwin and the argument against design. Early opposition to Paley came from Charles Darwin. Darwin admitted that even though he was “charmed” by Paley’s arguments, he could not blame God for designing all the evil in nature.2 Darwin proposed that God was so far removed from nature that He did not intervene and was not responsible for the state of nature. In effect, Darwin claimed that nature was not designed, and therefore did not point to a designer. He proposed that unassisted natural processes were sufficient to explain the adaptive features of living organisms, through the process of natural selection. Apparently, Darwin would rather have God good but in the distance than close to us and evil. Most of us would probably agree. But was Darwin’s argument from natural selection valid?

Darwin himself identified a method by which his theory might be refuted. In Chapter 6 of his book, the Origin of Species,3 Darwin stated: “If it could be demonstrated that any complex organ existed, which could not possibly have been formed by numerous successive, slight modifications, my theory would absolutely break down.”

Darwin claimed he could find no such cases, but others have made the opposite claim.

Arguments for design

Clearly, the argument from design is not valid if nature is not designed. Darwin shifted the focus of the debate to whether nature is truly designed. Thus, our interest focuses on the argument for design.

The argument from “irreducible complexity.” Michael Behe of Lehigh University in Pennsylvania is one of the current leaders of argument for design.4 He bases his argument on what he calls “irreducible complexity.” For an illustration, he uses an ordinary mousetrap composed of a platform, a bait pan, a lever, a “guillotine,” a spring, and some staples. The parts of the mousetrap work together to perform a function—catching mice. Let the mousetrap represent an organ that had evolved from some simpler ancestral structure. What would the ancestral structure look like, and what function would it have? How could a mousetrap be simplified, yet retain any function? Imagine removing any one of the components of the mousetrap—the resulting structure would have no function at all. The mousetrap is irreducibly complex. If any such example could be found among living organisms, Darwin’s theory would “absolutely break down.” According to Behe, the cilium is one such example.

A cilium is a small hair-like structure that moves back and forth in a fluid medium, providing a method of swimming in certain one-celled organisms. Cilia are also present in our respiratory tracts, and their movements help remove particles from our lungs. At least three parts are required for active movement: a part that moves; a link to an energy supply; and an “anchor” to control the position of the movable part. In the case of a cilium, the moving part is composed of molecules of tubulin; energy for movement is supplied through the activities of molecules of dynein; and the parts of the cilium are held together by molecules of nexin. Without any one of these, the cilium has no function. Thus the cilium appears to be irreducibly complex.

As one might expect, those who are philosophically committed to evolution refuse to accept the argument from irreducible complexity. However, this rejection is based on philosophical, not empirical grounds, as evidenced by the total lack of demonstration of evolutionary claims.

The argument from improbability. Some circumstances seem so unexpected that one suspects there must be something more than chance involved. Most scientists are willing to attribute a result to chance if it could be expected to occur by chance as often as five times in 100 trials. Some scientists will lower the acceptable odds to one chance in 1,000 trials, depending on the nature of the event. But there are limits to what anyone will reasonably accept as the result of chance. If the probability of an event is exceedingly low, it is reasonable to suppose that it did not happen as the result of chance. If the event also seems to have a purpose, it is reasonable to suppose that the event was guided by an intelligent mind.

Darwin admitted that he “shuddered” when he thought of the problem of the evolution of the human eye. He tried to make a case for the evolution of the eye by pointing to a variety of less-complex eyes in other animals, and suggesting that they might represent stages through which a more complex eye might have evolved. However, it is not clear that he convinced even himself. The evolution of the eye would require an elaborate series of improbable events that most people would consider unlikely to occur without a designer.5

The argument from mystery

Many arguments for design have been based on a lack of understanding of a particular process. Before the mechanism for the circulation of the blood was understood, one might have been tempted to claim that blood circulation was a mystery beyond our understanding, and this in itself was evidence for the workings of a superior intellect. Problems arose when the mechanism was discovered, seemingly making God no longer necessary. Examples such as this have led to a general suspicion of any type of argument for design. Such “arguments from mystery” contain two features: ignorance of the mechanism of a particular phenomenon, and an appeal that the phenomenon is a mystery beyond our understanding. Hence we have the “god-of-the-gaps” argument.

The argument from irreducible complexity should be contrasted with the argument from mystery. The first is based on two principal features: the system must have an identified function, and the components of the system must be known and identified. Thus, this is an argument from knowledge, and is completely different from the argument from mystery.

Examples of design in nature

Many examples of design in nature can be described, but we shall note a few here.

The existence of the universe.6 The existence of the universe depends on a precise combination of finely balanced physical constants. If any of several were different, the universe could not exist. For example, if the electromagnetic force were slightly greater, atomic nuclei would not exist. Other physical constants include the values of the gravitational constant and the strong and weak nuclear forces.

The appropriateness of conditions on earth for the support of life.7 The earth differs from other planets in ways that permit life to exist. If any of these conditions were not present, life as we know it could not exist on earth. For example, the earth’s atmospheric composition is unique among planets in our solar system.

The existence of life. Life requires both proteins and nucleic acids. Neither of these materials is found in the absence of life. Both must be present in order for life to exist. For example, protein production requires the presence of both protein enzymes and nucleic acids.

Unique genes are found in certain groups of organisms. Different groups of organisms have different genes that are not found in other groups. New genes require new information. It seems highly unlikely that new information can generate itself through random processes, even if starting with an extra copy of a gene. Additional discoveries are needed to help clarify this point.

The human mind. The human mind appears to be exceedingly complex, substantially beyond what is necessary for natural selection. The mechanism for certain types of mental activity seems beyond our ability to understand. For example, science has no good explanation for human self-awareness or for our capacity for language and abstract thinking.

Other examples of design include the existence of the genetic code, the process of protein production in living cells, the process of nucleic acid production in living cells, the senses, gene regulation, the complex chemistry of the photosynthetic pathway; sex, etc. While some conjectures have been offered as to how these features might have arisen without intelligent design, the proposed processes seem so highly improbable that intelligent design seems more plausible to many scholars.

Counter-arguments against design

Several objections have been raised to the argument for design. We will briefly note four types:

Pseudo-design.8 Patterns may form as the result of natural processes, with no need to invoke an intelligent designer. For example, a snowflake has an intricate pattern, but no one suggests that God especially intervened to create this pattern. Rather, the pattern can be explained in terms of physical processes and molecular properties. Complex, non-linear systems frequently exhibit unexpected properties that “emerge” naturally without any intelligent input. However, the complexity of the required initial conditions, such as the necessary existence of a computer, seems dependent on a designer.

Natural selection can be considered a type of pseudo-design argument. If organisms can be modified by natural processes to fit their environment, there is no need to propose that God specially intervened to design them. A serious weakness of this argument is that it presupposes a structure to be modified. Recent advances in molecular biology have revealed the existence of levels of interdependent complexity far beyond the expectations of those who developed the theory of evolution. The problem of the origins of biological structures appear to provide a powerful argument for design.

Defective design.9 Many features of nature appear to be flawed. It is sometimes argued that an intelligent creator would do a better job of designing nature. Some examples of allegedly defective design include the “thumb” of the giant panda and the structural arrangement of the retina of the eye of vertebrates. However, no one has shown that these structures function poorly, removing the basis for the argument. Furthermore, imperfections are not unexpected in a world that was designed by God, but has been corrupted by the activities of Satan.

Imposed design.10 Humans like to organize observations into patterns that may be artificial. An example would be seeing familiar shapes in the clouds—there is nothing real that needs an explanation, except perhaps to wonder why people do such things. Most scientists reject this argument, since the practice of science depends on the existence of real patterns to be explained. All observers agree that nature at least appears to be designed.

Evil design.11 Many features of organisms seem “designed” for killing or causing disease or pain. The malarial parasite is an example. It does not seem right to blame God for designing the causes of death and disease. On the other hand, if God did not design the “evil” things of nature, why claim that He designed the “good” things of nature? The presence of evil in nature does not refute the argument for design, but may raise questions about the nature or character of the designer. The biblical explanation is that this world is the battleground between two designers, a Creator and a corrupter. The result is that nature sends a mixed signal; both good and evil are present.12

Conclusion

The “argument for design” was widely ignored in the century after Darwin, in part because knowledge of living systems was so incomplete that the gaps could be filled in with imagination. As biological knowledge has increased, the argument for design has been revived and expressed in more sophisticated ways, such as the argument from “irreducible complexity.” The existence of certain features that could not survive in intermediate stages is evidence of a Designer. It is also evidence of a Designer God who created by special intervention—Creation—and not through a continuous process such as evolution. The argument from irreducible complexity is an argument that supports an interventionist, discontinuous creation.

According to Paul in Romans, nature is clearly designed, but not all are open to recognize the Designer. Nature can be properly understood only in the light of God’s special revelation in the Scriptures. Guided by the Bible, we can join with the psalmist in praise to the Creator: “The heavens are telling the glory of God; and the firmament proclaims His handiwork. . . . Their voice goes out through all the Earth, and their words to the end of the world” (Psalm 19:1, 4).

L. James Gibson (Ph.D., Loma Linda University) is the director of Geoscience Research Institute. Address: Loma Linda University, Loma Linda, California, 92350, U.S.A. E-mail: jgibson@accmail.llu.edu.

Notes and references

1. W. Paley, Natural Theology (Houston: St. Thomas Books, 1972. Reprint of 1802 ed.). Paley’s argument has recently been discussed by J. T. Baldwin, “God and the World: William Paley’s Argument from Perfection Tradition: A Continuing Influence,” Harvard Theological Review, 1985, pp.109-120.

2. See N. C. Gillespie, Charles Darwin and the Problem of Creation (University of Chicago Press, 1979), Chapter 7. For example, Darwin stated that he could not believe in a God that made cats to play with mice, or that designed tiny parasitic wasps to eat out the insides of a caterpillar.

3. Charles Darwin, The Origin of Species, 6th ed. (New York: Penguin Books, 1958).

4. M. J. Behe, Darwin’s Black Box (New York: The Free Press, 1996).

5. For a recent discussion of eye evolution and design, see D. E. Nilsson and S. Pelger, “A Pessimistic Estimate of the Time Required for an Eye to Evolve,” Proceedings, Royal Society of London, 1994, B 256:53-58. For a response to this paper, see J. T. Baldwin, “The Argument From Sufficient Initial System Organization as a Continuing Challenge to the Darwinian Rate and Method of Transitional Evolution,” Christian Scholar’s Review 24 (1995), pp. 423-443.

6. For further discussion of this point, see J. D. Barrow and F. J. Tipler, The Anthropic Cosmological Principle (New York: Oxford University Press, 1986).

7. For a popular-level discussion of this from a somewhat mystical non-Christian viewpoint, see J. E. Lovelock, Gaia: A New Look at Life on Earth (New York: Oxford University Press, 1987); for a more conventional discussion, see R. E. D. Clark, The Universe: Plan or Accident? (Philadelphia: Muhlenberg Press, 1961).

8. For an extreme argument of this type, see R. Deaconess, The Blind Watchmaker (New York: Norton and Co., 1986). Other examples include the argument of emergent complexity, such as S. Kauffman, The Origins of Order (New York: Oxford University Press, 1993). For an evaluation of Kauffman’s book, see J. Horgan, “From Complexity to Perplexity,” Scientific American 272:6 (1995), pp. 104-109.

9. An example of this argument is in S. J. Gould, The Panda’s Thumb (New York: Norton and Co., 1980).

10. A classic statement of this argument is D. Hume, Dialogues Concerning Natural Religion (1779), (New York: Penguin Books, 1990).

11. For example, see D. L. Hull, “The God of the Galapagos,” Nature 352 (1991), pp. 485-486. See also Chapter 8 in P. J. Bowler, Evolution: The History of an Idea (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1984).

12. For a biblical approach to this problem, see John T. Baldwin, “God, The Sparrow, and the Emerald Boa,” College and University Dialogue 8:3 (1996), pp. 5-8.—Editors.

Turkish and Chinese explorers found Noah’s Ark

HONG KONG - A GROUP of Chinese and Turkish evangelical explorers said Monday they believe they may have found Noah's Ark - four thousand metres up a mountain in Turkey.

The team say they recovered wooden specimens from a structure on Mount Ararat in eastern Turkey that carbon dating proved was 4,800 years old, around the same time the ark is said to have been afloat.

'It's not 100 per cent that it is Noah's Ark, but we think it is 99.9 per cent that this is it,' Yeung Wing-cheung, a Hong Kong documentary filmmaker and member of the 15-strong team from Noah's Ark Ministries International told AFP.

The structure had several compartments, some with wooden beams, which were believed to house animals, he said. The group of evangelical archaeologists ruled out an established human settlement on the grounds that one had never been found above 3,500 metres in the vicinity, Yeung said.

Local Turkish officials will ask the central government in Ankara to apply for UNESCO World Heritage status so the site can be protected while a major archaeological dig is conducted, Yeung added.

The biblical story says God decided to flood the earth after seeing how corrupt it had become, and told Noah to build an ark and fill it with two of every animal species. After the flood waters receded, the Bible says, the ark came to rest on a mountain. Many believe that Mount Ararat, the highest point in the region, is where the ark and her inhabitants came aground. -- AFP

"The Mystery of the Human Hobbit"

In this video clip above titled "The Mystery of the Human Hobbit" you will notice how each generation of the Indonesians island of Flora steadily gets larger with every consecutive generation meanwhile the oldest member of the tribe is dwarfed in size. (Toward the end of the documentary it cleary challenges the notion of human hobbits). They all have the very same human DNA, and you will see how certain features may have developed in people as a result of being isolated genetically from the mainland and nutritional deficiencies which would effect members of the older population that were not privy to outside trade and genetic diversity as they are today. See photos of how nutrition can effect the human one structure here at A Comparison of Primitive and Modern Diets and Their Effects Nevertheless they are 100% Humans (Homo Sapien).

Please pay attention to the protruded eyebrows of a man Professor Yokab measured at 5 ft 2 inches. Some racist scientists would label him primitive purely based on his appearance if he were mere skeletal remains buried in the ground, yet he is clearly a modern human and normal. This video also points out how Darwinists have have frequently mistaken archeological specimens that only appear primitive in evolutionary terms but is actually abnormal and MODERN!




The large eyebrow protrusions on Homo erectus skulls, and features such as the backward-sloping forehead, can be seen in a number of races in our own day, as in the Malaysian native shown here.

Dates calculated from "molecular evolution" do not match those in the fossil record

Fossil evidence indicates that ancient bacteria, Archea (Archaebacteria) have existed on the earth for at least 3.5 billion years (1). A study published in January, 1996 examined the origin of life through molecular evolution of "protein clocks" (2). A total of 531 sequences of the genes of 57 metabolic enzymes from 15 phylogenetic groups were plotted based upon the known divergence dates in the fossil record. The seven divergence points of these phyla were plotted verses the time of divergence, resulting in a straight line (r = 0.94, where r = 1.0 is a perfect fit).

The line indicated the origin of life occurred ~1.5 billion years ago, even though there is definitive evidence for life at 3.5 billion years ago. Drs. Mooers and Redfield attempted to explain the discrepancy with various alternatives (3). They suggested that the molecular evidence may be misleading. However, to reconcile the data, much of molecular biology would have to be discarded. They also suggested that the fossils chosen for use in the Doolittle et al. study may have been misdated. They discounted this possibility, since the fossil record of these creatures has been confirmed by numerous investigators in numerous studies. They suggested that there might have been a slower rate of amino acid substitution in early life forms. However, these creatures, being bacteria, have generation times of minutes, compared to later creatures, which have generation times of days to years. They concluded, "This idea has no basis in theory."

Mooers and Redfield then suggested that the results might be explained by multiple substitutions at the same site, thus underestimating divergence times. However, Doolittle et al. tested departure from the standard model and found that this had little effect upon divergence times. The model, in fact, predicts a divergence between the plants and the animals/fungi at one billion years ago, which many scientists would think was too long ago. The only conclusion Mooers and Redfield could come up with was that present day Archea are examples of convergent evolution and are not directly descended from the ancient Archea. They propose the original Archea arose, diversified, died and arose again two billion years later. The alternative theory, that God, the Creator, does not necessarily work through a protein clock, was not discussed.

References

1. Schopf, J.W. 1993. Science 260: 640-646.
2. Doolittle, R.F., D.-F. Feng, S. Tsang, G. Cho, and E. Little. 1996. Determining divergence times of the major kingdoms of living organisms with a protein clock. Science 271: 470-477.
3. Mooers, A.O. and R.J. Redfield. 1996. Digging up the roots of life. Science 379: 587-588.

Can we make sense of suffering?

Can we make sense of the disappointments and heartaches that life brings to us? Can we respond courageously and creatively to our losses? Sometimes the answer is clear, and sometimes it isn’t.1

Years ago, the president of a company I was working for promised me a position that was better than anything I had hoped for. But when his official letter arrived several weeks later, it said that things had changed and I would be going somewhere else instead. I was bitterly disappointed. I wondered why God had let me down. Within a few months, however, I realized that my new situation was better than the one I had expected. What looked like a setback turned out to be a blessing, and I was grateful for God’s leading in my life. Experiences like this support the conviction that there is a purpose behind the apparent tragedies that come to us. God sends them, or allows them, or at least uses them to benefit us. As Paul says, “all things work together for good” (Romans 8:28, KJV).

On the other hand, there are instances of suffering that resist this reassuring pattern. Within the past three years, for example, a college friend of mine lost his son in an airplane crash, the daughter of another friend was brutally murdered, a teaching colleague died of cancer, leaving her husband with two small children, and a teenager I know became a quadriplegic when a car crash broke his neck. We can see God’s hand in life’s minor disappointments, but what do we do with incalculable suffering, or “horrendous evils,” as one writer calls them? In cases like this, the loss is catastrophic; it outweighs any possible good that could come from it. So, where is God when it really hurts? Why doesn’t He protect us from harm and deliver us from evil?

The question is as old as time and as up-to-date as this morning’s headlines. Nothing is more pervasive than suffering. Sooner or later, it comes to everyone, and it always brings disturbing questions. In his best-selling book on the subject, Rabbi Harold Kushner asserts, “There is only one question which really matters: why do bad things happen to good people? All other theological conversation is intellectually diverting.”2

It is a curious fact that suffering seems to take us by surprise. Nothing is more obvious than the fact that everybody suffers. Yet nothing seems more incomprehensible than our own suffering. The writer William Saroyan supposedly said, “I knew that everybody died. But in my case I thought there would be an exception.” But the fact is, there are no exceptions. Not for nice people. Not even for Christian people. Sooner or later we all have to suffer.

And people respond to suffering in strikingly different ways. For some, suffering is a tremendous challenge to faith. For philosophers, suffering is the greatest difficulty religion has to face. One says it’s the only atheistic argument that deserves to be taken seriously. Another says that undeserved suffering is a greater obstacle to faith than all the theoretical objections ever devised, all put together. Undeserved suffering is the “rock on which atheism rests.” At the same time, suffering sometimes has a positive effect on religious belief. Many people find themselves drawing closer to God when they suffer. A woman who spent years in hospice work says that nobody dies an atheist. Everyone she knew came to terms with God in the end.

God’s majesty and life’s reality

Suffering is a particular problem for Christians because of our belief in God. What do we do with the apparent discrepancy between the majesty of God and the realities of life? If God is supremely powerful and supremely good, why does anyone suffer? A perfect Being could create any kind of world He wanted to. If such a being existed, wouldn’t He eliminate suffering, or prevent it, or at least limit it?

Historically, people have responded to this problem in two principal ways. One is to move suffering outside God’s will, to maintain that God is not responsible for suffering. The most popular version of this approach appeals to free will. God endowed His creatures with the capacity to obey or disobey. They disobeyed, and the world now suffers the consequences. So, it was creaturely rebellion that ultimately accounts for the sorrows of the world. God did not cause it or will it. It was never God’s plan that we suffer.

The contrasting response is to place suffering inside God’s will. Things may appear to be out of control, goes this line of thought, but God is nevertheless completely in charge, and everything that happens has its place in His plan. We may not understand why God does what He does, but we can be sure that it is all for the best. Everything we go through, even the darkest chapters of our lives, is just what we need. In time, we will see that God’s way is perfect.

Each response raises questions, and each answer raises still more questions in an endless cycle of philosophical point-counterpoint. Such discussions serve a purpose, but their value in helping us as we face our own suffering is limited. Every philosophical theory founders on the shoals of concrete human suffering. As Dostoevsky saw, all the theories in the world crumble before the misery of a single sufferer. In The Brothers Karamazov, the skeptical Ivan threw down this challenge to his brother Aloysha, a tender soul who had become a novice monk. “Imagine that you are building the edifice of human destiny with the object of making people happy in the finale, of giving them peace and rest at last, but for that you must inevitably and unavoidably torture just one tiny creature, . . . raise [the universe] on the foundation of her unrequited tears—would you agree to be the architect on such conditions? Tell me the truth.” After a long pause, Aloysha finally said, “No, I would not agree.”3 And neither would we. No explanation makes suffering intelligible.

In fact, there are even times when religion makes it worse. The believers have all sorts of why-me and why-God questions. They wonder what’s gone wrong. Unbelievers have fewer expectations, so they are less inclined to feel that life has let them down.

When we’re not getting good answers to our questions, the problem isn’t always the answers. It may be the questions we are asking. Suffering is not just a theological or philosophical conundrum. It is the greatest challenge a person has to face. And unless we find a way to respond on a personal level, our theories about suffering won’t be worth much.

The Christian story

The cross and the resurrection of Jesus are central to the Christian story, and they are basic to a Christian response to suffering. According to the Gospels, Jesus approached the cross with fear and apprehension. On the night before the crucifixion, He fervently prayed that God would spare Him the bitter cup that lay ahead. He had to endure the cross anyway, and His cry of desolation, “My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?” reveals the anguish that crushed out His life. With His resurrection, of course, Jesus broke the power of death, reversed the condemnation of the cross, and reunited with the Father.

The cross points to the inevitability of suffering in this world. Jesus did not avoid suffering. Neither can we. Jesus’ anguish also confirms our basic intuition that suffering is wrong. There is a tragic abnormality to our existence. We know that we are susceptible to suffering and death; we also sense that we were not meant for them.

The cross further indicates Jesus’ solidarity with us in our sufferings. It reminds us that we are never alone, no matter how dark and oppressive our situation may be. Because Jesus endured the cross, nothing can happen to us that He has not been through Himself—physical pain and hardship, separation from family and friends, the loss of worldly goods and reputation, the animosity of those we try to help, even spiritual isolation—He knew it all.

If the cross reminds us that suffering is unavoidable, the resurrection assures us that suffering never has the last word. Jesus could not avoid the cross, because of His commitment to rescue humanity, but He was not imprisoned by it. The empty tomb is our assurance that suffering is temporary. From the perspective of Christian hope, the time will come when suffering will be a thing of the past.

Cross and Resurrection are inseparable. Without the resurrection, the cross would be the last sad chapter in a noble life. Jesus’ death would merely illustrate the grim fact that the good often die young, with their dreams unfulfilled and their hopes dashed. In light of the Resurrection, however, the cross is a great victory, the central act in God’s response to the problem of suffering. So, the Resurrection transforms the cross. It turns tragedy into triumph.

Conversely, the Resurrection needs the cross. Seen alone, the Resurrection seems to offer an easy escape from the rigors of this world. It would lead us to look for a detour around the difficulties of life. If God has the power to raise the dead, He could surely insulate us from pain and sorrow and prevent us from suffering. But before the Resurrection comes the cross. And this forces us to recognize that God often leads us through perils, rather than around them. He does not promise to lift us dramatically and miraculously out of harm’s way. Just as Jesus had His cross to bear, His followers have theirs as well (see Matthew 16:24). His promise to be with us in our sufferings also calls us to be with Him in His sufferings.

Facing suffering frankly

Making Jesus’ own suffering the center of our response to suffering leads to several important conclusions. It reminds us that suffering is real and that it was not part of God’s original plan. Suffering is the loss of good things. At times it results from our own choices. Our instinctive response to suffering is “Oh, no. This isn’t right. This is not supposed to happen to me!” We should affirm this sentiment. We were not meant to suffer.

This insight rules out some of the familiar things people say to sufferers: “Compared to other people’s problems, yours aren’t so bad.” “Your troubles are all for the best. Someday you will understand.” “Everything happens for a reason. God wants to teach you an important lesson.”

Sometimes things turn out for the best, it’s true, but sometimes they don’t. Sometimes they are bad, and they just stay that way. The Book of Psalms gives full expression to the depths of human woe. In fact, more than half the Psalms deal with “the wintry landscape of the heart,” as one writer puts it.

Church historian Martin Marty describes losing his wife to cancer after nearly 30 years of marriage. During the months of her final hospitalization, they took turns reading a Psalm at the time of each midnight medication. He read the even numbered Psalms, she read the odd-numbered Psalms.

“But after a particularly wretched day’s bout that wracked her body and my soul,” he writes, “I did not feel up to reading a particularly somber psalm, so I passed over it.”

“What happened to Psalm 88,” she said, “why did you skip it?”

“I didn’t think you could take it tonight. I am not sure I could. No: I am sure I could not.”

“Please read it for me,” she said.

“All right: …I cry out in the night before thee…For my soul is full of troubles…Thou hast put me in the depths of the Pit, in the regions dark and deep.…”

“Thank you,” she said, “I need that kind the most.”

“After that conversation…we continued to speak,” Marty recalls, “slowly and quietly, in the bleakness of the midnight but in the warmth of each other’s presence and in awareness of the Presence. We agreed that often the starkest scriptures were the most credible signals of the Presence and came in the worst time. When life gets down to basics, of course one wants the consoling words, the comforting sayings, the voices of hope preserved on printed pages. But they make sense only against the background …of the dark words.”4

People have the right to face their suffering openly. They need to know that God knows and appreciates their trials. In a book responding to the loss of his son, philosopher Nicholas Wolterstorff describes the struggle to “own” his grief, as he put it. “The modern Western practice is to disown one’s grief: to get over it, to put it behind one, to get on with life, to put it out of mind, to insure that it not become part of one’s identity.” To see his point we have only to think of the facile way newscasters talk of “healing” and “closure” just hours after some terrible tragedy has occurred. “My struggle,” Wolterstorff said, “was to own [my grief], to make it part of my identity: if you want to know who I am, you must know that I am one whose son died.”5

Transcending suffering

While it is important to acknowledge that suffering is real and that suffering is wrong, it is equally important to refuse to give suffering the last word. Suffering may be an inescapable part of our story, but it is not the whole story. We can be larger than our sufferings.

People transcend their sufferings in several ways. One is by courageously refusing to let suffering dominate them. This is the central point in Viktor Frankl’s well-known book Man’s Search for Meaning. When every freedom is taken away, one freedom always remains—the freedom to choose our response. When we cannot change our situation, we are challenged to change ourselves. And of course, the greater the challenge, the greater our courage must be. No matter how desperate our situation, we can surmount it by refusing to let it define our significance. We can be greater than our sufferings.

This call to courage rests on the conviction that suffering does not diminish our value as human beings. This is especially important for us to remember if we depend on success for a sense of personal significance. When my father-in-law underwent bypass surgery, one of his post-operative complaints was the fear that he could no longer be useful. If he couldn’t be productive, he felt, life wasn’t worth living.

We also transcend our sufferings when we realize that we do not suffer alone. God is with us in our sufferings. According to the Christian faith, the story of Jesus is God’s own story, and its great climax is the crucifixion—a moment of agony and isolation. Some people believe that Christ suffered so we won’t have to. But the cross represents solidarity as well as substitution. Christ not only suffers for us, Christ suffers with us.

From the Christian perspective, this is a testimony that God is with us in our sufferings, that everything that happens to us makes a difference to Him. Paul’s letter to the Romans contains the ringing assurance that nothing can separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus. Neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation—nothing can separate us from Him (Romans 8:35-39).

None of these things can separate us from God, not just because He will be with us when they are over, but because He is with us when they happen. As the Psalmist puts it, “I will fear no evil: for you are with me” (Psalm 23:4).

The response of hope

Suffering does not have the last word for those who have confidence for the future, so an effective response to suffering must always include hope. One manifestation of hope is the powerful desire to make suffering serve some worthy goal, to use tragedy for some good purpose. When Nicholas Green, an American boy, was murdered in a highway robbery attempt in Italy several years ago, his parents made his organs available to others. Their decision saved several lives and transformed the nation’s attitude toward organ donation. We want our losses to count for something. We cannot let them make gaping holes in the fabric of life. We must somehow mend them, learn from them, grow beyond them. And Christian faith supports this hope with the assurance that in everything God works for good (Romans 8:28).

Christian hope also directs us to a future beyond death, to a time when suffering will be a thing of the past. As Paul describes it, death is an enemy—it is not part of what was meant to be. But it is a conquered enemy—its power is broken and it will someday come to an end (1 Corinthians 15:26). Jesus’ resurrection is God’s promise that death does not have the last word. It assures us that God’s love is strong enough to overcome death and eradicate suffering.

Putting all this together gives us a response to our opening question. If we ask, What is the meaning of suffering? there is no answer, because suffering itself has no meaning. But if we ask, Can we make sense of suffering? The answer is a resounding yes! With faith in God, we can find meaning in, through, and in spite of suffering.

Richard Rice (Ph.D., University of Chicago Divinity School) is professor of religion at Loma Linda University. He has written four books, including The Openness of God and Reign of God, along with a number of articles. His mailing address: Loma Linda University; Loma Linda, California 92350; U.S.A. E-mail: rrice@rel.llu.edu

Notes and references:

1. An earlier version of this article appeared in the Spring 1999 issue of Update, a publication of the Center for Christian Bioethics, Loma Linda University.

2. Harold Kushner, When Bad Things Happen to Good People (New York: Schocken, 1981), p. 6.

3. Dostoevsky, Feodor M., The Brothers Karamozov, Book 5, chap. 4, “Rebellion.”

4. Martin E. Marty, A Cry of Absence: Reflections for the Winter of the Heart, 2nd ed. (San Francisco: Harper San Francisco, 1993), pp. xi-xii.

5. Nicholas Wolterstorff, “The Grace That Shaped My Life,” in Philosophers Who Believe: The Spiritual Journeys of Eleven Leading Thinkers, ed. by Kelly James Clark (Downers Grove, Illinois: InterVarsity, 1993), pp. 273-275.

Einstein and Intelligent Design

In the past few years numerous scientists, scientific journals, and popular authors have published a slew of articles and books ripping the concept of Intelligent Design. While not specifically denying the theory of evolution, the theory of Intelligent Design postulates that the incomprehensible vastness and complexity of the Cosmos are the result of design on the part of an inconceivably intelligent being.

Many scientists dismiss any concept of an intelligent designer as unscientific, and claim that any recognition of or belief in such a designer does harm to the scientific method. However, the greatest scientist who ever lived, Albert Einstein, did not share this outlook. His years of studying the universe not only led him to come up with the Theory of Relativity, but also led him to believe, in his own words, in a “spirit manifest in the laws of the universe,” in a “God who reveals Himself in the harmony of all that exists” (Isaacson 2007: 44). He once wrote:

“The religious inclination lies in the dim consciousness that dwells in humans that all nature, including the humans in it, is in no way an accidental game, but a work of lawfulness that there is a fundamental cause of all existence” (Ibid. 46).

In a 1930 essay entitled “What I Believe” Einstein wrote: “To sense that behind anything that can be experienced there is something that our minds cannot grasp, whose beauty and sublimity reaches us only indirectly: this is religiousness. In this sense, and in this sense only, I am a devoutly religious man” (Ibid. 47).

He also made the following statement in an essay entitled “The Religiousness of Science,” which appeared in a collection of his essays published in English under the title “The World As I See It”:

“The scientist is possessed by the sense of universal causation. His religious feeling takes the form of a rapturous amazement at the harmony of natural law, which reveals an INTELLIGENCE of such superiority that, compared with it, all the systematic thinking and acting of human beings is an utterly insignificant reflection. This feeling is the guiding principle of his life and work, in so far as he succeeds in keeping himself from the shackles of selfish desire” (Updike 2007: 77 [emphasis added]).

These statements are highly significant, considering that no scientist of any worth would dismiss Einstein as superstitious or unscientific. Moreover, the above quotes can’t be dismissed as the product of a religious bias on Einstein’s part, because, except for a brief period of “deep religiousness” when he was twelve, Einstein rejected organized religion (Ibid.).

According to the April 16 2007 issue of Time magazine, in his youth Einstein “rejected at first his parents’ secularism and later the concepts of religious ritual and of a personal God who intercedes in the daily workings of the world” (Isaacson 2007: 44). The magazine further reported: “Einstein’s parents…were ‘entirely irreligious.’ They did not keep kosher or attend synagogue, and his father Hermann referred to Jewish rituals as ‘ancient superstitions,’ according to a relative” (Ibid.). As mentioned, the 12-year-old Albert briefly embraced strict Judaism, but he later wrote: “Through the reading of popular scientific books, I soon reached the conviction that much in the stories of the Bible could not be true” (Ibid. 46).

Einstein’s belief in an intelligent designer thus derived not from a pre-conceived religious bias, but from the phenomenal insights into the Universe that he possessed as the most brilliant scientist who ever lived. His recognition of a creator refutes the recent claims by atheists that belief in any sort of god is unscientific.

By Stephen Caesar

References:

Isaacson, W. 2007. “Einstein and Faith.” Time, 16 April.

Updike, J. 2007. “The Valiant Swabian.” The New Yorker, 2 April.

Stephen Caesar holds his master’s degree in anthropology/archaeology from Harvard.

Does Religion Always Lose?

A common debating tactic, and a successful one in the eyes of many, is to say that whenever religion and science have a dispute about some question of fact, religion always loses.1 The implication is that religion should never make any factual claims, and it is even implied that religion has no contact with reality. Supporting evidence for this claim is said to include the physics of Galileo, the geology of Hutton and Lyell, the biology of Darwin, and the psychology of Freud and others. Religion, especially
supernatural religion, has always lost in the past, and it will always lose
in the future. We should either abandon it or at least adopt a liberal version
that makes no testable claims.

There are several problems with the above scenario. First, strictly
speaking, the disputes were not really between science and religion; there
were scientists on the “religion” side, and theologians on the “science”
side. It would be more proper to make the claim that the argument was
between naturalistic and supernaturalistic philosophies.
If so, the Galileo affair does not really belong with the other examples.
The Galileo affair resulted from the reaction of the Catholic Church,
which had just been rocked by the Protestant Reformation, to the
cosmology of Copernicus. The only issues which might impact the conflict
between naturalistic and supernaturalistic philosophy were whether
incidental details in the Bible were to be treated as ontologically (really)
accurate, or merely phenomenologically (only describing appearances)
accurate, and the authority of the Catholic Church. As far as I know, it
does not even involve the authority of the Pope speaking ex cathedra, as
I know of no such pronouncement of the Pope on the Galileo affair.
It could be (and has been) argued that the other “advances” listed
above were not really advances. Certainly a creationist will not find them
very persuasive. But there is a more basic flaw in the argument. Specifically,
there are important counterexamples to the argument. Religion does
not always lose.

We need to rephrase the above statement to give it more empirical
content, because we can never be completely certain that science has a
particular theory. Even if a theory appears to be well ahead of another, it
is always possible that more evidence will tip the scales in favor of the
currently out-of-favor theory. Thus a believer in naturalism could always
claim that in a given subject where a supernaturalist explanation fits best
with the known facts, more facts will tip the scales. Just wait a while;
your supernatural explanation will turn out to be wrong or unnecessary.
Of course, a supernaturalist could argue in a similar manner. And both
statements are basically faith statements. The only evidence we can have
for them is that the same process has occurred in other areas of knowledge
in the past.

So we will rephrase the proposition more carefully. Scientific and
historical hypotheses arising from and/or compatible with supernaturalistic
philosophy sometimes have considerably more empirical support
than hypotheses arising from and/or compatible with naturalistic philosophy.
Perhaps more importantly, this support has, in some cases increased
with time.

In the domain of history, one counterexample to the “religion always
loses” argument is the reliability of the chronology of the books of Kings
and Chronicles in the Bible. For a long time, skeptics believed a “Biblical”
chronology did not exist, and that what confused pieces of chronology
did exist were totally incompatible with the “real”, secular chronology.
After Thiele,2 the chronology of Kings and Chronicles was (and is) seen
not only as coherent, but able to serve as a corrective to secular chronology.
A Biblical approach has won, or at least has shown itself to be
much better at explaining the data. Religion did not lose in this case, and
it appears unlikely to lose in the future here.

Another counterexample is the book of Daniel, where skeptics originally
confidently stated that Belshazzar never existed, that the chronology
was hopelessly confused, and that since the entire book was fiction, there
was no point in looking for the characters in history. With time, that view
of history has been forced to change. Belshazzar not only existed, but
also turned out to be the crown prince (also king in Hebrew parlance),
able only to offer the third rulership in the kingdom. The chronology of
Nebuchadnezzar taking captives from Jerusalem turns out to have been
precisely correct. Perhaps most interesting, the names of Daniel4 and his
three friends5 have been found in Babylonian documents. This does not
mean that every statement in the book of Daniel has been confirmed.
The identity of Darius the Mede is still in doubt (although we have not
eliminated all candidates). But the case for the historicity of Daniel is
clearly better than it was in the past. Religion is winning here.

These cases are from history. Can the same be said of science? If one
is a Seventh-day Adventist, it can. For over a century, Adventists defended,
on the basis of what they believed to be inspiration, the view that tobacco
was an insidious but deadly poison. At the time this view was not shared
by the scientific community, but over the last 50 years the evidence has
become overwhelming that the hypothesis originally associated with religion
was correct. Religion did not lose here. The same comments, although
not quite as vigorously, can be made about vegetarianism.
But it could be countered that these supernaturalist positions were
sectarian, and in any case did not deal a major blow to naturalism. Are
there any cases more directly relevant to the creation-evolution controversy?
It turns out there are. The first example is in cosmology. The question
at issue was whether the universe extended backwards in time indefinitely
or if there was a finite limit to the age of the universe.

The former was strongly favored by most scientists, often with an explicit anti-supernatural
bias expressed as the reason for their preference. This bias formed a
major part of the objection to Big Bang cosmology. If the universe had a
beginning, it at least suggested that it might require a Creator. The desire
to protect an eternal universe was so great that in attempting to do so,
Einstein made what he later called his “greatest mistake”, introducing a
cosmological constant into the equation for the universe to keep it roughly
static. However, the weight of evidence now is solidly behind the concept
that the universe did have a beginning. Religion is not losing here.
Another example is the existence of vestigial organs. Vestigial organs
have been used as an argument against design, and therefore against a
designer, since Darwin. In the classical exposition, Wiedersheim listed
over 150 structures that he considered vestigial. He was careful to note
that some of them, such as the thyroid and adrenal glands, probably had
some function, in which case they might not be truly vestigial, and that
this could be the case with other organs. But some of his followers were
not so cautious, and it was not uncommon for such organs as the thymus,
the pituitary, and the appendix to be written off as completely useless.

This lack of caution was necessary if vestigial organs were to be used
against believers in design, because if there was some function that could
be attributed to them, then their existence in a designed organism would
not count as evidence against a designer.8 However, this lack of caution
was ill-advised, as further investigation has found a reasonable function
for all these structures, destroying, sometimes dramatically, the argument
against design. It could be argued that in this case anti-supernaturalist
prejudice actually was detrimental to science, tending to cause scientists
not to investigate possible functions for a structure because the prejudice
was that it had no function.

It could be further argued that anti-supernatural prejudice actually
killed people. Although the spleen was not on Wiedersheim’s list, when
I went to medical school it was commonly written off as a practically
useless organ that we would be better off not having, as it tended to bleed
when it got injured. Its only use was to show that humans and dogs, for
example (where it stores blood for autotransfusion in case of bleeding),
shared a common ancestor. As a result, when it did get injured, it was
commonly removed, without any attempt to preserve its function. It was
only later that it became apparent that not having a spleen predisposed
one to overwhelming pneumococcal infections. Surgical practice today
is to preserve splenic function whenever possible, either by repairing the
spleen, or failing that, by leaving small bits in the abdomen and hoping
that they attach themselves.

History repeated itself with the “junk DNA” controversy. When DNA
was discovered, many evolutionists predicted that there were vast quantities
of totally useless DNA in the genome of various organisms including
humans. As noted by Standish,9 they were perhaps ignoring evolutionary
theory in their anti-supernaturalist bias. But the point remains that supernaturalists
generally made a better prediction about the extent of “junk
DNA”, and that in this case an anti-supernaturalist bias actually hindered
research (the reverse of what is usually claimed).

This brings up an important point. One of the reasons “science”
(naturalism) claims not to lose is that it incorporates findings which were
originally thought to favor “religion” (supernaturalism). Thus the temporality
of the universe, and some other ideas such as the harmfulness of
tobacco, are simply incorporated into the naturalistic model, and the modern
believer in naturalism often may not be aware of the religious overtones
to the previous controversies. The topic is viewed as simply another
example of the steady advance of science.

The same could have been true for religion. For example, most theologians
have incorporated a heliocentric view of the solar system into
their theology. But the believers in naturalism will not let them forget
that at one time the majority of Christians (not all; note Philip Melancthon)
disagreed with the heliocentric theory, and the Catholic Church disagreed
strongly enough that it forced Galileo to recant and banned his books, an
action it has been forced to repudiate. The Church was in error here. But
if one can hold modern Christianity accountable for the mistakes of the
majority of its predecessors, one can also hold naturalism accountable
for the mistakes of the majority of its predecessors.

This brings us to a final point. The argument that “religion always
loses” is used to avoid having to deal with some subject where supernaturalism
is apparently winning at present, and where if it wins, naturalism
is dead. Naturalism can survive the historicity of the numbers in
Kings and Chronicles, or the toxicity of tobacco, or even (as deism) the
Big Bang. Naturalism cannot survive without a naturalistic explanation
for the origin of life. And yet there is not such an explanation, not even a
remotely plausible one. The more we know, the worse it looks.
Naturalism implicitly recognizes this.

The best evidence for this is the insistence on the monophyletic origin of life.
In the face of the Cambrian explosion and different genetic codes for some organisms (e.g., Paramecium), naturalists continue to insist that all organisms on Earth share
a common ancestor. If they really believed that life were that easy to
start, they would simply accept the hypothesis that it started a number of
different times. The fact that they insist on the monophyletic origin of
life is testimony that they implicitly recognize that it is extremely difficult
to get life started even once, let alone multiple times.

But believers in naturalism are absolutely committed to a naturalistic
origin for life. Some idea of the strength of the commitment can be
gathered from a passage in an excellent (and still accurate) book by Robert
Shapiro entitled Origins: A Skeptic’s Guide to the Creation of Life on
Earth.10 In it he points out the flaws of the various theories, finally opting
for a theory of short non-modern peptides as the least problematic. But
on p 130 he displays his own viewpoint:

Some future day may yet arrive when all reasonable chemical
experiments run to discover a probable origin for life have failed
unequivocally. Further, new geological evidence may indicate a
sudden appearance of life on the earth. Finally, we may have
explored the universe and found no trace of life, or processes
leading to life, elsewhere. In such a case, some scientists might
choose to turn to religion for an answer. Others, however, myself
included, would attempt to sort out the surviving less probable
scientific explanations in the hope of selecting one that was still
more likely than the remainder.

So naturalism requires a defense against the obvious. And the best
defense is, “We have never lost yet. You always do if you wait long
enough.” In the case of the origin of life, it appears that naturalism would
have lost a long time ago if its adherents had not refused to recognize the
loss. The major problem with the “religion always loses” defense is that
it is not true. Even in hindsight it is not true without distorting the record,
and from a prospective point of view (the only point of view from which
we can currently view the future), it is certainly not true. It should be
recognized as what it is, a faith statement disagreeing with the apparent
lessons of history. Religion does not always lose.

P.A.G.

ENDNOTES

1. See, for example: (a) Yandell KE. 1986. Protestant theology and natural science in the
twentieth century. In: Lindberg DC, Numbers RL, editors. God and Nature: Historical
Essays on the Encounter between Christianity and Science, p 448-471. Berkeley and
London: University of California Press; (b) White AD. A history of the warfare of science
with theology in Christendom. 2 vols. NY: Dover Press.
2. Thiele E. 1983. The mysterious numbers of the Hebrew Kings. 3rd ed. Grand Rapids,
MI: Zondervan Publishing House.
3. Strand KA. 1996. Thiele’s biblical chronology as a corrective for extrabiblical dates.
Andrews University Seminary Studies 34:295-317.
4. Shea W. 1988. Bel(te)shazzar meets Belshazzar. Andrews University Seminary Studies
26:67-81.
5. Shea W. 1982. Extra-biblical texts and the convocation on the Plain of Dura. Andrews
University Seminary Studies 20:29-57.
6. Robert Jastrow (1978. God and the astronomers. NY: W. W. Norton and Co.) notes the
phenomenon. Although the supernaturalists were not always on one side, or the naturalists
on the other, as noted by Helge Kragh (1999. Cosmology and controversy. Princeton,
NJ: Princeton University Press, p 251-268), there was still a tendency to line up on the
side most compatible with one’s evaluation of theism.
7. Bernard H, Bernard M, translators. 1895. The structure of man: an index to his past
history. Howes GB, editor. London: MacMilllan and Co.
8. For an anti-supernaturalist argument to succeed, it is important for the structure under
consideration to have no function. It is not enough simply for it to have minimal and
easily compensated function. Otherwise, such structures as little fingers or toes could be
considered unnecessary, as there are very few functions that cannot be performed equally
well by humans who have lost their little fingers and toes, and yet it seems unreasonable
to claim that they could not have been designed.
The attractiveness of such an argument is such that it is still not completely dead. It
surfaces, for example, in: Miller KR. 1999. Finding Darwin’s God. NY: Cliff Street
Books, p 100-101.
9. Standish TG. 2002. Rushing to judgment: functionality in noncoding or “junk” DNA.
Origins 53:7-20.
10. Shapiro R. 1986. Origins: a skeptic’s guide to the creation of life on Earth. NY: Summit
Books.