You wouldn’t think two topics could have less in common than quantum mechanics and the inspiration of scripture, but I suspect they are intimately connected. As I’ve said before, all it takes for God to be God is for him to have retained control over his creation at the quantum level of our reality. Our physical universe is constructed in such a way as to make that quite plausible. Everything that is begins at the tiniest scale, an arena of seemingly chaotic, random events that somehow cohere into the world we experience. Even we imagine that one day humans will learn to build from the quantum level in a small way. Every trekkie knows that each time Captain Picard orders “tea, Earl Grey, hot”, his replicator is doing just that. So why shouldn’t the God who created us have that same ability, albeit on a grander scale?
“Look, there are 1080 elementary particles in the universe. Do you realize how big God would have to be to keep track of every one of them?” I heard that question long ago from someone of significance (Carl Sagan, perhaps?) before I started keeping track of such things. Who asked it isn’t important because the question itself reflects a common feeling that an omniscient God would have to be impossibly large in order to keep track of the entire universe. Now for a Christian that has never been a problem. We are used to thinking in terms of a God who is infinite. While we marvel at the size of the universe like anyone else, we know the Creator must be larger than his creation. However large the universe is, it is finite. Our minds are accustomed to the infinite.
Something unexpected happened in the twentieth century, something all the more remarkable because it seems to have escaped everyone’s notice. At the opening of the twentieth century, the rise of Darwinism was pushing hard against religious thought and advances in geology had indicated an age for our planet far beyond traditional biblical interpretations. There was every reason to expect that the progress of science would continue to erode the central role of religious belief in people’s lives. Who could have expected that by the close of the twentieth century science would offer an explanation of how everything in the Bible could still be true?
Dr. Michael Shermer is the publisher of Skeptic magazine and has authored a numerous books and articles promoting an atheistic worldview. He is certainly one of this country’s most public and vocal skeptics. In one of his frequent public appearances he debated the existence of God with Father Jonathan Morris. The content of the debate was rather ordinary except for when Shermer responded to a question from the audience. “What if you’re wrong?” someone asked. Shermer’s face lit up and he became quite animated as he declared, “I’ve thought about this. I have little speech prepared.”
Instead of asking, Why should I believe in a God for whom no evidence exists?, ask yourself this: What evidence would be sufficient to make me believe? Be honest now. What would it take in the form of evidence for you to accept that God is God? What would it take for you to believe enough to bow you knee and humble yourself before your creator? That’s the real issue, isn’t it? God does not seek mere acknowledgment of his existence. His desire is for faith.
Victor Stenger is a physics professor who wrote a book in 2007 titled God – the Failed Hypothesis. Simply put, from page one this book is little more than an elaborate straw dog argument. First Stenger constructs his own model of a god and then proceeds to knock it down. That he is able to do so is hardly surprising given the mishmash of religious ideas he strings together. In the end he decides there is no evidence to support his model. This less than shocking conclusion is quite predictable. Stenger is what Dawkins wishes he could be – a strong atheist, expressing no doubt that God does not exist. Where Dawkins always leaves a little wiggle-room in his certainty, Stenger is all-in.
A number of years back, I read a news report of a fossil found in China that “proved” birds had descended from dinosaurs. It caught my attention only because I’m a backyard birdwatcher, a trait I picked up from my father. As I recall (and memory is an unreliable thing), an expert was explaining to the reporter the significance of a feature of the fossil he called “protofeathers”. I was curious to see what he was talking about and searched the web looking for a photo. While most of the references I found led back to the same interview, one mentioned a second interview with a different expert who examined the same fossil and sniffed, “That’s not a protofeather, just a fold of skin.” Curious.