I thought about this recently in relation to the evolution of our scientific understanding of the basic foundations of biological life— the elemental mechanisms and processes of cellular function.
A century ago, and more so a millennium ago, human understanding of organic life was not merely in an embryonic stage; it had not yet been conceived. Then, life– biology– was mostly seen in the realm of the miraculous. We now take for granted microscopes (both optical and electron), X-ray imaging, MRIs, organic chemistry, genetics, and a host of other biological tools, but our understanding then was devoid of their assistance, and thick mystery shrouded all of the workings and components of life. No option appeared at that time other than to ascribe the underpinnings of life to the miraculous.
The engineer calls this the "black box." When something incredibly complex exists, and he doesn't want to (or can't) describe all of the voluminous details, he merely lumps all of those processes and details together and puts them into an artifice of thinking called a "black box." Certain inputs enter one side of the box, then inside the box "something happens," and finally, outputs exit the other side of the box. He knows nothing of what happens within the "black box."
Many years ago I came across a single-panel cartoon in a research journal. Most of the panel portrayed a huge, old-fashioned blackboard, and a little rotund man stood near the right-hand end with a piece of chalk in his hand. He apparently had filled the entire board, from left to right, with numerous scientific equations. The huge collection of symbols and formulas on the left funneled down and became fewer and fewer as they progressed to the middle of the chalkboard. Then, as the progression continued to the right, they fanned back out to more and more complex equations once again. The little man stood back, admiring the result of his work. In the compressed area near the center of this complicated mathematical enterprise appeared the simple phrase "...and then a miracle happens..."
Many have observed that a miracle is nothing more than some naturally occurring phenomenon, the details of which the miracle-ascribing observer is ignorant. This is partially, while not entirely, true. Biological life, in all its marvelous beauty and breath-taking richness and depth, definitely appears miraculous to those not versed in its details, complexities, and subtleties. Approached strictly from the outside and on a macroscopic level, the whole scope of life nearly compels us to see it as miraculous– divine in origin.
A few centuries ago when microscopes were a novel invention, the cellular organization of life began to reveal itself. Prior to that microscopic view, we believed the flesh of our bodies to be simple, homogeneous, jelly-like substances, held in a recognizable shape by virtue of their containment in a skin-bag (albeit organized into the various functions of certain organs). But when we gained the ability to differentiate some of the details of the jelly, we realized it was not just a smooth, featureless material, but rather, composed of incredibly small units of repetition– the cells. And these cells were, in turn, composed of almost unimaginably smaller and intricate organelles, systems, and mechanisms.
As we commenced our inward journey of discovering how we (and all living things) were composed, part of the mystery began to dissolve. We pulled the curtain back a bit and often found ourselves saying– "Eureka! So that's how it works...wonderful!" The more we looked, the more mechanisms we uncovered. The more we investigated, the more systems and processes we saw at work. Life was, indeed, organized much more logically and intelligently than we ever would have thought looking at it from the outside. The "miracle" was beginning to lose its luster. Perhaps, one day it all would be exposed, the mystery would fade away in the glare of daylight streaming in, and the "miracle" would evaporate in the heat of noonday.
Yet, the most amazing thing happens as we continue peering deep down, inside of life. The deeper one plunges into the stuff of biology, the greater the richness and complexity appears. As the information continues to roll in, these organic systems progressively reveal themselves as ever more intricate and astounding, and the mechanisms driving them appear increasingly amazing in their exquisite detail, and elegance, and efficiency. As the story of "how life works" successively unfolds, the honest observer must be awed by the splendor of it all. To be unaffected by its sublimity would be like hearing Bach (substitute your own musical preference here) performed by world-class musicians, and not being overwhelmed by the joy, purity, and majestic wonder of timeless music.
Some miracles are first, miracles in the company of ignorance, but in time and with enough investigation, hard work, and the analysis of sufficient information, they can reveal themselves again as far greater miracles– in fact, miracles accompanied by understanding. But maybe all miracles are the same. Perhaps, unraveling any miracle simply starts with what we can immediately see and touch, and as we peer down below the surface, we see deeper and farther into the mysteries and extravagance of what God has wrought. Possibly, everything in this universe is miraculous in nature.
"Even the darkness is not dark to You, and the night is as bright as the day. Darkness and light are alike to You, for You formed my inward parts; You wove me in my mother's womb. I will give thanks to You, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made; Wonderful are Your works, and my soul knows it very well." Psalm 139:12-14
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>>> Except for quotations, all text and images are Copyright, Bill Brockmeier, 2015. All rights reserved.
1 comment:
Well said. You have used on of my favorite Bible verses to conclude your thoughts.
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