my humble science

Science isn't interested in what's known, but what's unknown; to put on the blinders and pretend that we know everything is naive in my opinion.
-Dr. Timothy Heil

I spent a few minutes enjoying the sun by the Mary Kahrs Warnell Memorial Garden today. The turtles apparently had the same idea; I spotted half-a-dozen or so sunning themselves on the flat rocks protruding out of the water. Surprisingly, the coy fish didn't even really make me feel anxious; then again, I am in the business of conquering fears these days. The breeze was pleasant. My mother called, interrupting my oh-so-Thoreau moment, but I truly didn't mind, and talked quietly with her for a few minutes as I watched Spring unfurl its details .

People often talk about the historic serenity of North Campus, but truthfully, I have always felt more connected with South Campus. Surrounded by dozens of stoic science buildings, I have generally been able to find solace. It's lovely. Quiet. Still. I felt rather childish as the burning desire to drop my apple core into the pond began to build within me, and I knew it was time to go to lunch.

I started thinking about my beloved science, and the harsh criticism it has received, especially in recent years, from my beloved church. For some reason, it has become a trend in modern western society (which has incontestably infiltrated the modern church) to pit science and religion against one another, insisting that the two are enemies. I think that the general public misunderstands the goals and overlooks the self-imposed limitations of science. It's difficult to overcome the false dilemma of the mindset that we have been raised on, to offer even the smallest amount of consideration to the both-and view that is characteristic of many eastern cultures. (Let me be clear, I am BOTH either-or AND both-and.)

Science studies the natural world. It seeks to discover truth by disproving claims, much like a sculptor carves away bits of his chosen medium to reveal a beautiful piece of artwork, or a paleontologist gently sweeps past layer after layer of dust and soil, carefully uncovering each delicate fragment of bone. Or, if you will allow it, the way that God refines us through sanctification; He removes our impurities, strengthens our faith and deepens our love. He calls us to die to self so that Christ's love can be magnified in our lives.

One of the hallmarks of science is its self-corrective nature. Science admits its mistakes (something the church has always struggled with), but remains conservative. As a general rule, it does not change suddenly in drastic leaps or bounds (if it does, we're probably talking about pseudoscience, which is another point of discussion entirely), but gradually over relatively long periods of time. True science begins with intellectual humility, which:

...depends on recognizing that one should not claim more than one actually knows. It does not imply spinelessness or submissiveness. It implies the lack of intellectual pretentiousness, boastfulness, or conceit, combined with insight into the logical foundations, or lack of such foundations, of one's belief.
-from A Miniature Guide to Critical Thinking, by Dr. Richard Paul & Dr. Linda Elder

Last night at Wesley, Bob made an interesting assertion. He said that "the central ingredient to inviting God's Presence is the genuine humility of his people." So science, in its purest form, serves as an avenue of invitation to the Presence of God? When I consider the complexities of the universe, and more recently, the intricacies of the human body that I have gained such a comparably limited amount of knowledge about through formal education, I have to say yes.