Thursday, March 8, 2018

Musings on Variety in the World Around Us



This is just a random musing, but, in speaking to atheist friends, I find they cannot answer the following:

If there is no God except Evolution, why is there such variety in the world?

Take, for instance, an ordinary chicken. Why does the female chicken lay an egg that thrusts her potential progeny out into the cold cruel world before it has fully formed? Why, on the other hand, does a human baby incubate in his or her mother’s womb for nine months? Is it that each being has a different function – a different destiny?

If Evolution were truly the only force present in the universe, how could there be such variety, such stunningly different designs all over the world? Surely if life “determined” itself into being – as Stephen Hawking so irrationally insists – it would “choose” the strongest and best way to evolve! There would be no variety, because Evolution as a force would not choose to produce weak beings – it would “stick” to one form, one “expression.”

Ah, but perhaps evolution does not exist; perhaps there is a Designer Who wants variety because He wants to please someone other than Himself…perhaps He wants to please His creation – mankind!

Back to the chicken:

The age-old famous Chicken Question is this: “Which came first: the chicken or the egg?” In my own experience, this very question is supposed to reveal the utter “foolishness” of Intelligent Design.
“Neither came first,” the worshipers of Evolution maintain. “One day, a random bird-like creature ‘decided’ to become a chicken, and so he / she laid eggs and – voila! – the next generation of the bird-like creature became what we now gather eggs from for our breakfasts."

Atheists want to believe in Evolution, but they just can’t figure out how that amphibian crawled out of the primeval goo and “decided” to become a chicken – or any other mammal or reptile or land-dweller. Luckily, some people have grown beyond accepting the “the creature just decided” theory. There really is no evidence – fossilized or experiential – that any creature (even man) “decided” to take on some other form. (Remember, we are talking about eons before plastic surgery!)

All the time, atheists insist that God – as an answer to where we came from – is definitely out! But I repeat: Why is Evolution apparently so “creative”? So far, the god Evolution hasn’t answered its followers (although man, anthropomorphizing his idol, tries to put words into its mouth).

There is delicate beauty in this world – a world where we are supposedly at the mercy of impersonal forces. The touch of an infant’s hand, a newly-opened crocus, a bud on the side of a fallen branch that insists on opening and giving beauty, despite its ultimate doom – these are tactile and visual facts which demonstrate the truth of a Creator’s involvement. Beyond the delicate beauty all around us, even the most hardened of those who worship Evolution are at a loss explaining how Love, Sacrifice, Joy, Patience, Kindness, Self-control, etc., supposedly “evolved.” Although “evolutionary psychology” attempts to explain away these phenomena as merely imaginary constructs we sentient humans assign to them (“because we want to”), the truth is that this so-called science which attempts to explain Evolution’s “purpose,” is merely the latest falsehood that the worshipers of Evolution have dreamed up so far. There is no outside evidence to support their assertions.

Where does all this lead us with respect to our original question? It points out how utterly foolish Evolution is as a rational theory. The very fact that there is delicate beauty, as well as strong mental and spiritual forces within man’s psyche, seriously undermines the idea of Evolution as a rational explanation of how our world came into being. It just isn’t that “creative.”

Monday, February 26, 2018

Abortion by the Numbers



And here’s the news today:

·         Fetus # 3,567 was aborted today in New York. It would have been a male, but shortly after its demise, its identifying genitals were harvested for a company’s continuing research on “male characteristics.” The company intends to makes its finding public in about 10 years, by which time Fetus # 3,567 would have reached the age of 10 and been a wonder athlete at fencing. Twenty-five years from now, Fetus # 3,567 would have married and started a peaceful, productive life of its own with three children and a career in botanical gardening.

However, the Determiners decided that Fetus # 3,567’s biological mother was too poor to raise the Fetus properly, and no one else cared much about its future. So it was cut out of its safe space and discarded (except for its valuable genitals).

·         Fetus # 5,240 was also aborted today in Beijing. It was not hard to guess that its “assigned gender” had been female, but it was considered undesirable, so its organs weren’t even harvested.

About twenty years from now, Fetus # 5,240 would have written a book about Jesus Christ that would have touched the heart of the Chinese leader, and radically transformed the direction of that country. In forty years, it would have traveled the globe, touching even the hardest of heart with its God-given message.

However, the Determiners decided that Fetus # 5,240’s parents had exceeded their allotted number of children, so the Fetus was taken by force and left to die (it was a swift death) in a covered trash can. No one – thankfully – heard the infant’s last gasp in darkness and pain.

·         Fetus # 4,210 was aborted today in Oklahoma. The abortionist was late for his golf game, so he pitched the formerly-alive baby into the collection dish and ordered his assistant death-dealer to take the “matter” to the lab immediately. He then left for his game, allowing his assistant to clean up the formerly-pregnant female lying on the table as best she could.

Fetus # 4,210 was rather unique; it would have been the only autistic female child in the state who could flawlessly perform Chopin and Beethoven on the piano by the age of 12.

However, the Determiner – its own mother – was so career-driven that she could not bear the thought of the inconvenience its piano practicing would cause. And so Fetus # 4,210 disappeared into a stainless steel dish and vanished into the “body parts” freezer after being dissected.

·         All of these numbered fetuses would have brought smiles to others at some point in their lives, had they been allowed to breathe air and grow.

·         All of them would have cried for sheer joy at some point in their lives.

·         All of them would have loved someone else at some point in their lives.

·         All of them went back to their Creator with their purpose – to be a human on earth – unfulfilled.

·         All of them woke up in eternity and were comforted by the love of God, instead of the love of a mother and father who had engaged in their procreation.

·         We call them numbers; God calls them Human Beings.

Wednesday, January 24, 2018

Chapter 1 from POLYCARP: "The Boy and the Fish"



The young boy sat on the low, dusty stone wall and watched the old man move slowly down the narrow street.
            “Karpus!” one of his playmates called. “What are you doing? Get up and play with us!”
            “Not just now,” the sober eight-year-old called back. “I have something to do.”
            Knowing Karpus’ whimsical ways, the other youngster shrugged and ran quickly back down the street, away from the eight-year-old and the object of his attention.
            Karpus knew exactly what he wanted to do today: talk to this old, decrepit man. He had heard the men in the marketplace refer to him as the “Beloved Disciple,” and while he knew what a disciple was, he had very little idea of what “beloved” meant. Of course, he knew that his elders were to be respected at all times – storge was the Greek term – but this man elicited more than just respect from those around him.
            It was devotion – yes, that was it! Somehow, people were devoted to this ancient figure. Like when the boy and his father Antonius would worship at the Temple of Homer. His father always bowed low to the attending priests and treated them with the utmost deference, even when the younger ones – always cockier than the older guardians of the shrine – seemed to take their duties lightly. They would rush the prayers and burn the sacrifice carelessly. Their incense was always on the skimpy side, and they never lingered long enough to assure his father of the god’s blessing. Karpus was bored most of the times he accompanied his father, but he had been taught to be a dutiful son, and he would never disappoint his father by showing his boredom.
            Something was awakening in Karpus regarding the gods, however. He questioned everything he had been taught about them. Why didn’t they always answer his father’s prayers? Why were they always doing things his own father taught him never to do? Why did he feel nothing akin to his father’s devotion when he went to the temple with him?
            In a mysterious, simplistic way, Karpus felt that this old man had an answer – maybe even the answer. People whispered and gossiped about the followers of the Christos all the time, mainly because they seemed eccentric, even a little mad. But Karpus knew they held a secret; he believed it lay in the sign of the Fish – ichthus.
            Karpus’ memory took him back to his fifth birthday – a day for celebrating amongst the people of his culture. Babies and toddlers died all the time, some from disease and some from accidents, but a child who had reached five years in this life was congratulated and embraced. His mother Penelope and his father Antonius proclaimed that the gods had smiled on them, granting their firstborn the ability to survive. And so they had solemnized his name – “Karpus” – “fruit” – affirming their hope that he would be the first of many children in their household.
            Somehow, the gods had not seen it in the same way as Karpus’ family had. Another child came along the next year – another boy – but the child had been born prematurely and died within a few hours. Karpus vividly remembered the wailing women gathered in the anteroom, and the men walking solemnly in and out of the courtyard, bearing wine and fruit and bread as an offering to the family’s household gods. His father had accepted his guests with dignity and restraint, but Karpus saw and heard the deep disappointment in his father’s voice. Why are the gods so angry at my abba? the little boy had thought. He worships them all the time, and yet they let my baby brother die. Somehow, this question had loomed large in the boy’s psyche, and even now – three years later – he burned with a need to know, to understand.
            Karpus got down from the wall and started to follow the elderly man, who was already far ahead of Karpus on the street. Fortunately, the man had stopped to talk to a man many years his junior, so Karpus had a chance to catch up with him. He noticed that though the man moved slowly, his head was raised. In the quiet street, Karpus thought he heard the old man saying something as he walked along.
            Suddenly, the man stopped and turned around. He looked right at Karpus and smiled.
            “A pleasant day for a walk, don’t you think?” the man said. Karpus was caught totally off guard.
            “I…am…sorry…sir,” stammered the boy.
            The man chuckled. “It is a strange thing to say about such a beautiful morning,” he said.
            “I…meant…I…mean” the boy began again.
            “Do the morning hours always affect your tongue like this?” the man said with mock seriousness.
            Karpus saw the amusement on the man’s face and started to relax. The man stretched out his hand and gently laid it on Karpus’ shoulder.
            “Let us begin our friendship again. I am John, the lowly servant of Jesus the Christos. I serve as shepherd of the followers of the Way. And you, my young friend?” he said.
            “I am Karpus, son of Antonius the merchant,” said the boy.
            “And what does your father sell?”
            “He sells cloth, reverend Father.”
            “Hush, lad! The Christos taught us never to give exalted titles to people who are no kin to us.”
            The boy was embarrassed. “I only meant…” he said weakly.
            “Fear not, Karpus. My purpose is not to chide you; my purpose is to teach you.”
            “I have no money with which to pay you, reverend…” and the boy stopped, frustrated that he had almost erred again.
             “The knowledge of the Christos is free to all,” said John gently. “Will you come with me as I buy my daily bread?”
            “My father will be expecting me soon.”
            “I see.”
            “But I would like to know…” he started, but then the boy’s shyness took over completely.
            “…More?” said John.
            “More, Sir.”
            John chuckled. “Only if you stop calling me ‘sir.’ I am Brother John – nothing more.”
            “Yes…Brother John.”
            “Can you come visit me during the rest hour this afternoon?”
            “I can.”
            The old man turned Karpus around so that he could direct him to his abode.
            “I live back the way we came. Follow this street until it bears to the left. You will see a narrower passageway on the right. Walk ten pechys[1] down that passage and look for the Sign of the Fish on the doorpost of a grey door. Knock and you will be admitted.” The old man turned to go. “And now, young friend, if you will permit me, I must attend to my flock.”
            Karpus’ young mind did not understand the metaphor. “You have sheep in the city?”
            John laughed. “Sheep…fish…there is quite a menagerie for me to shepherd for the Lord Jesus!”
            They both laughed. Then John turned and resumed his walk to the marketplace.
            Karpus looked at the old man until his form blended with other people at a nearby intersection. Then the boy looked upwards.
            “I want to know You – whoever You are.”


[1] Greek name for a cubit (a little over 18 inches).