Evolution

“And the earth was without form and void…” - Gen. 1:2

I had made a daisy chain with my orange extension cord and brought it into a classroom last week for some last minute repairs on a table. Evidently not too many of the students have contractors for dads and had not seen one before. “What’s that?” they all wanted to know. I proceeded to give a lesson on why the theory of evolution does not make much sense. Extension cords and garden hoses are my number one evidence for the Biblical account of creation as opposed to evolutionary theory. Somehow the students were still a bit puzzled with the connection. So what happens when you toss an extension cord in a box and then pull it out to use it? “It gets all tangled,” they answered correctly. What happens when you carefully roll up an extension cord or a garden hose, lay it nicely in a corner, and then grab it to use it? “It still gets all tangled up,” came the response again. That is why I make a daisy chain with my extension cord for though it looks ugly and bulky, if you pull from the end, it comes out straight with no tangles. But it takes extra work and careful technique to reset the daisy chain when you are through.

Macro evolutionary theory says that given enough time, order can come from chaos. My experience is that order reverts to chaos; even after special efforts at making loop-de-loops with all my cords and hoses. Think about the last time you pulled out that camera with the long strap out of your purse. If it comes out clean without a knot or a snag, you consider yourself blessed. And the smaller the string, the more grave and perfidious the tangle. Fishermen know that the only cure for a back-lashed fishing line is a pair of scissors. Even the most routine movements, casts, or reeling can create mind-boggling puzzles sure to cross the eyes of the most clear-sighted and test the patience of the most saintly. And how many times have I attempted to move an appliance or tool with even the most modest of power cords and, daring fate, I left the free trailing cord drag along behind only to see it snag on the most unlikely places.

My argument is simple. Anyone who believes in the theory of evolution and that order can come out of chaos has never seriously worked with either garden hoses or extension cords. I went through a phase in which I flirted with evolutionary thought. I used to think that perhaps the cord would untangle if I shook it enough. In my old age, I now am resigned to the fact that the more I shake them, they worse they get. Intelligence is required. I have to analyze the knot and take the time to untangle one twist at a time.

And only God could bring order out of nothingness. Chaos is the norm. We, as complex and intricately designed creatures, are the exception. There is no other satisfactory explanation. Bringing order out of chaos is the work of God, the Divine initiative. To design, to build, to organize, to create, to repair, to restore is the incarnation of the Imago Dei, the image of God, within the heart of man.

Every morning when I see freshly scrubbed children in clean clothes carrying lunch boxes filled with carefully chosen edibles, I see order that is imposed on chaos. One child just last week was finishing her breakfast outside on the sidewalk and suddenly spilled orange juice all down her clean school outfit, and her school day had not even started; she hadn’t even made it in the door. Chaos is the bent of the world, especially for children. Order is the sweet smelling sacrifice, day by day, child by child, mess by mess, which we are able to offer up to the Creator, the supreme order-maker. I think He takes pleasure with every lunch that’s made, every toilet that’s cleaned, every dress that’s ironed, every closet that’s organized, and every lesson that’s learned. And at the end of the week, we should be able to look back upon the order we have imposed on chaos and say, “It is good. It is very good.”