This piece from A.J. Swoboda is a thoughtful reminder of importance of tension and nuance in many difficult cultural conversations for Christians. Don't get hung up on the specifics of the evolution issue (there are plenty of us "evolutionary creationists" out there), but hear a pastor's yearning heart for true, honest engagement, in the service of witness. -Paul
For some time, evolution has played a catalytic role of cementing an imagined divide between science and theology into the minds of most modern people—Christian or not. You're either in or out, for science or against science, based exclusively on your belief in one single litmus test: evolution. Undoubtedly, false dichotomies like this have been detrimental to the Western mind, aside from the fact that such a dichotomy overlooks scores of Christians who do accept much of the witness of science while simultaneously holding reservations about certain aspects of evolution.
I experienced this closed-minded dichotomy first hand when writing a piece on climate change (something I believe very strongly is taking place in our world) and was told by an editor that I was hypocritical for accepting climate change but having reservations about evolution. I was told I was picking and choosing the science I liked. The suggestion that was made was that I couldn't do that; it was either all or nothing.
The thoughtless "either/or"
Either/or dichotomies like this are both closed-minded and thoughtless. To suggest that acceptance of evolution is a litmus test for one's belief in science is about as thoughtful and nuanced as making acceptance of Calvinism the litmus test for one's belief in God.
What science says today may well be different than what it will say in a decade. But here comes the hard truth—neither is my theology inerrant.
I increasingly believe it is possible to listen wholeheartedly to science yet not accept blindly everything it proclaims. Nay, I believe it is a Christian's task to do this—listen with a critical mind. Science isn't inerrant. History will tell us, if things will continue as they have forever, that what science says today may well be different than what it will say in a decade. But here comes the hard truth—neither is my theology inerrant. If you were to ask me ten years ago what I believed, I would admit I've changed a lot over that decade. Jesus remains my exclusive confession, but my theology has changed. So has yours. I hope.
Theology and science have a great deal to learn from each other. I, and other Christians, continue to dream of a kind of approach to faith which unswervingly holds science and theology in constant dialogue with one another in an attempt to see Jesus not only in the book of the Bible, but the book of creation as well. As the early Christian fathers wrote, God inspired two books—the Bible and creation. And in order to read them both correctly, we must keep the other in mind. The words of Pope John Paul II still ring true to my heart today: "Science can purify religion from error and superstition. Religion can purify science from idolatry and false absolutes."
The words of Pope John Paul II still ring true to my heart today: "Science can purify religion from error and superstition. Religion can purify science from idolatry and false absolutes."
Now more than ever, we need theology and science to grab a cup of coffee and hang out.
None of this, I admit, makes conversations about evolution more comfortable for a Christian. It is hard to talk about issues like evolution if one remains unaware of the contours of the discussion, lacks a basic understanding of it, or, if one doesn't personally buy into evolution itself. I can testify to this uncomfortability personally. Over the course of the past year-and-a-half, two fellow scholars and myself completed a textbook on an Evangelical theology of the environment. I admit, my two colleagues approaches the project with a much more developed sense of understandings regarding evolution. I lacked. In our writing workshops, I learned a great deal about their beliefs regarding evolution even if I still held critiques at the end of the day. Page-to-page, as we wrote, we wrestled together in redemptive tension with uncomfortable issues.
It was unbearable at times. And so when we were finished nearly six months ago, it explained why I was as disinterested as I was in the evolution debate between my childhood hero, Bill Nye, and Ken Ham: I was plain exhausted by evolutionary conversation. But more than anything I felt torn. Torn on one hand knowing well that just about every scientist with some kind of academic credentials acknowledges some form of evolution. Yet, on the other hand, torn by the understanding that belief must go deeper than just going along with the crowd.
In the end, my biggest beef with evolution isn't what evolution says about the past. My problem with evolution is what it (stereotypically) says about the future. It ultimately suggests, "Hey, give humanity a few more years and we'll get everything cleaned up. We'll be better. We'll evolve into something better. Just give us more time." I simply don't buy it. The malignant optimism and unbased sentimentality we've told ourselves about ourselves won't do it for me. We're simply never going to evolve out of our brokenness. We're bent. We're cracked. And we need something deeper than a couple more years of evolving to be renewed. The biggest problem with evolution is it entirely undermines the core problem of humanity—a broken, self-centered, Christians would say sinful, heart.
We're simply never going to evolve out of our brokenness. We're bent. We're cracked. And we need something deeper than a couple more years of evolving to be renewed.
Why should Christians even enter discussions about evolution? Why should they care? Why is it important? To begin, I'm sensitive to the fact that the evolution debate is a first-world debate. By that, I mean, it is arrogant to say that evolution is something the whole world cares about. I recently heard that the evolution debate between Nye and Ham had an audience (in person and online) of approximately 95% white people. If true, it wouldn't surprise me. Sudanese or Syrian refugees don't care as much about debating evolution as much as they care about getting some water and some shelter for the night. And they shouldn't care in light of what they face. Evolution, as a debate, only matters to people who have time in their life to care—and the truth is there are many people in the world who don't have time or energy to care.
A beckoning to witness
But that brings us back to the question—why should Christians care about things like evolution? Here is why: because the gospel calls us to live in dialogue with our world. The gospel invites us to care about what our neighbors care about. The gospel beckons us to witness. By the power of the gospel of Jesus Christ and the Spirit whom lives in us, we must dare to enter into non-theological, non-churchy, non-Christian conversation for the purpose of witness and humility. We must be bolder than to just have dialogue with ourselves about theology and the nature of God. Inter-church dialogue, as important as it is, is not an effective form of witness or apologetics.
Christian witness begins where we dare to enter into foreign, scary places. Witness happens when we're willing to dare looking stupid; or, in the words of Wendell Berry in Citizenship Papers, to "take the risks of amateurism." Witness goes hand-in-hand with entering into foreign discussions that don't happen in the church. Otherwise, the church will die talking to itself.
Be careful: this is not about becoming intellectuals or even about becoming experts. It is uncomfortable to talk about science when you know nothing of science, or ecology, or astronomy, or politics. Many Christians have no skill set to talk about things that they are not experts about. But being an expert in something is only important if you are interested in "winning" the dialogue. But witness isn't "winning" the dialogue. Witness is being in the dialogue and being a witness to the Good News.
We aren't lawyers for Jesus, we are witnesses of Jesus. He doesn't need our arguments, he just needs a witness.
As my friend Matthew Sleeth told me: We aren't lawyers for Jesus, we are witnesses of Jesus. He doesn't need our arguments, he just needs a witness. When we are interested solely in winning the dialogue, we will stop entering into them because we don't feel we can win them. As my friend Dr. Dan Brunner has said: Christians don't know what to talk about when we aren't talking about conversion or theology. This is indicative of a church culture that deals with its ignorance by silence when it should deal with its ignorance through dialogue.
Staring at the sun
I'm immediately drawn to C.S. Lewis. At a conference for youth workers who were tasked with reaching all of Britain with the gospel, Lewis scolded Christian books. He argues that too many Christians are caught up in the task of writing books about things that are safe for Christians to talk about and fail to talk to non-Christians on their terms. He argues that apologetics is only possible when Christians write about non-Christian issues as Christians. Christians talking to Christians about Christian issues is important, just don't, writes Lewis, call it evangelism or apologetics.
Lewis says that the Good News of Jesus is like a sunrise. Concluding his essay, Is Theology Poetry? Lewis penned these prophetic words: "I believe in Christianity as I believe that the Sun has risen, not only because I see it but because by it I see everything else."
Through the gospel, Lewis believed, he could see everything else. That's our challenge today: Not to stare at the sun, but to look at all things in the light of the sun. A Christ-follower believes not so that they might stare at their belief, but, conversely, that by their belief they could look upon everything under the sun with a gaze of wonder.
A Christ-follower believes not so that they might stare at their belief, but, conversely, that by their belief they could look upon everything under the sun with a gaze of wonder.
There is something profoundly scary about throwing yourself into a foreign field where you know nothing because you risk looking like a moron. We prefer safe conversations about faith because they make us look smart. But it is only in the process of looking like a moron that one can receive new wisdom and insight.
What do we get out of it? Well, we become what Jesus called mathetes, or "learners." And Christians have the greatest chance of doing this than anyone. Learning is the highest degree commended to those who've risked idiocracy and amateurism. We don't enter dialogue to win. We enter to learn. In fact, we model the life of Jesus when we are humble enough to learn from those around us. Christians must learn how to enter unsafe, scary places of conversation in order to learn and grow that it might learn to talk to the world on its own terms.
Even a sovereign God had to "learn" obedience. (Heb. 5:8)
There are so many scary conversations for a modern Christian: evolution, same-sex marriage, sexual integrity, and gender identity, just to name a few. How we choose to enter these conversations will have a ripple effect on our neighbors as much as it will on history. The great church historian Martin Marty once said that Christianity is always one generation away from extinction. Christianity won't go extinct because its Christ is eternally alive. But Christianity does run the risk of losing its prophetic voice if it refuses to enter into dialogue with a world in which it has been sovereignly placed.
Christianity does run the risk of losing its prophetic voice if it refuses to enter into dialogue with a world in which it has been sovereignly placed.
The church of Jesus Christ should never be the place people go to escape from reality. Rather, it must be the place we wrestle with reality the way Jacob wrestled with God.
And I guess that's why I've always found it at the same time troubling and comforting that the name of God's people in the Old Testament was Israel.
Israel simply means "wrestles with God."
Dr. A.J. Swoboda is a pastor, writer, and professor in Portland, Oregon. He is @mrajswoboda on Twitter.
