Chapter Zero - - RED FLAG

In my early college years I told myself that I must leave the Church for science. I said it didn't matter because I could always return. But I wanted to live free and unencumbered, ready to explore the plains and rivers of reality, the mountains and valleys of truth, seeking certainty in knowledge and with no baggage of belief to weigh me down. I wanted to live life so fully that I might actually get tired of it. And if I did tire, I knew the Church would take me back without question or recrimination.

So I left on my long journey, my sabbatical, full of hope and confidence.I went so very far and I did incredibly witness so much that I can hardly remember it all. The verdant jungles of great national laboratories beckoned. Rivers of worthy data gushed from my computers as they dammed the experimental flows from my own custom built, sophisticated instruments in my lab at the Illinois Institute of Technology in Chicago. Mountains of information crossed my desk as I planned my teaching course-work, prepared research efforts, detailed lecture material and secured my research laboratory notes for the dissertation that would never be written.

In the mean time, in the cool valleys of science research libraries all over Chicago, I rested peacefully and drank deeply of the sparkling spring waters that nourished the very ground of all human innovation. I was supremely happy.

But, things must change. The mean temperature of the universe is 3.2 degrees Kelvin. Earth bakes at 284 K. Only for a perfect crystal at absolute zero does time stop. When inevitable disappointment turned to disaster, I found I could not consummate my studies for the Ph.D. in chemistry that I had worked for since my second year of high school.

But I still had hope.I founded a commercial analytical laboratory that was subject to U.S. government regulatory enforcement whims. After five years I had to close it because the frenzy of fear surrounding the infamous asbestos hysteria abated. The E.P.A. stopped emphasizing remediation of this form of environmental contamination. Markets for my lab's services evaporated in the flames of the new rage against radon pollution of indoor air.

I gave my noble quest to do science one more try in the name of pure knowledge and of my alma mater when an unusual new opportunity arose in the pharmaceutical world for an inorganic analytical chemist like me. But, I was hired only as window dressing to run a show laboratory for the approbation of the U.S. Food and Drug Administration. Once the time for impressing the government bureaucrats had passed, my services were no longer needed. My expertise could be outsourced to any of a number of consulting laboratories. Only earnest proprietary drug firms maintained facilities in my area of analytical prowess (chemical microscopy). This was a generic pharmaceutical firm that was not really serious about aggressively pursuing quality.

After these three major setbacks I began to reconsider my trek away from God and the Church. Perhaps it was time to return, I thought, but I had spent too much time thinking like a scientist to throw it all over now and blindly return to faith. I needed some rationale, some motivation. But, I could find no solace in the writings of apologists for faith whose works had already been considered and discounted. They all sounded lame and trite, almost canned and prefabricated, like a sermon that had been delivered for the four hundredth time. I needed something different, something new, something convincing and above all, something intelligent and challenging as well as inspiring.

C.S. Lewis offered some new insight, but I needed even more. There must be seeds of faith in the very science I had been studying, for scientists pursue truth and Truth is what I coveted. So I looked at what I had been taught and searched it for the most pertinent and profound veracities that I could find in all of modern science.

During my sojourn, my faith had shriveled and was crippled with the diseases of disuse. So I crawled around in the dust and found a few good pieces of nice wood, a couple of sturdy rods from which I could fashion strong trustworthy crutches. When I had finished my work, I set my tools, my instruments, on flat hard ground and used them to painfully climb to my feet. I stood, but I could not walk. I was amazed at what I saw from that so very slightly more lofty vantage.

From this surprising new perspective I can see just above the milling crowd to distant places that before I could not even imagine. One tall, fine man walks past in the distance. The crowd is parting in front of him and closing in behind, as though he is being propelled by the pressure of the multitude behind and attracted by the welcoming vacuum of clear perfect space in front. He seems to sense my presence and gently alters his trajectory toward me. As the humanity between us thins, I can see his kindly young face wears a wide new smile as if he had just been laughing.

He beams a moment, examines my peculiar stance and the odd pieces of furniture I had fashioned out of wood and twine. "It is good!" he declared.

I grinned. "Yes. It took a while, but now I am up again for the first time in years!"

"Now walk. Come to me. And cast down your crutches. They are indeed just a crutches!" Jesus commanded.

"Oh no, Sir, I have not taken a step for so long I have forgotten how!"

"Walk! Come to me. Throw away the lumber, you don't need it!"

There is something about a direct command from Jesus that cannot be ignored. I don't even want to. I hunch my shoulders, draw a deep breath and take one, slow, strangely painless step. Then the other foot follows. Suddenly I yield to an explosive urge to ditch the crutches. I walk!

After that, I came straight to Jesus, having journeyed almost thirty years. I walked to Him despite my atrophied muscle, my weakened bone. I followed Him with the crowd. I grew stronger, my legs carried me with growing vigor with each new step, stood straight with strength and stamina at every stride. Great Good God, I jumped for joy!

But I did not forget my crutches. I drew up a design. I describe my plan here in great detail. I offer it with this book of instructions. It will help get your head up above the crowd so Jesus can be seen, and He will see you! Then, at His command and only then, come to Him unaided, walking tall and strong with gladness, confidence and hope equal to my own.