When the FBI is tasked with developing a criminal profile to assist law enforcement in solving a crime, they rely greatly on patterns. That is, they mine historical crime data, evidence, testimony, psychological profiles, handwriting samples, demographics, parenting styles, sibling count, and a litany of other stores to determine what type of person would commit “x” type of crime. This science is called “profiling.”  An enthusiast of both mystery and criminology, I routinely use the same technique to evaluate the merits of books I read. Usually I can establish a “motive” by the first or second chapter. Admittedly, that was not the case with Francis Collins’ book The Language of God.

In general, profiling is an effective tool to assist law enforcement in solving crimes. On the contrary, there are times when it comes up short. One such notable occasion is when the perpetrator of the crime is a member of law enforcement, and thus intimately versed in the finer points of forensic science. He “knows what they look for,” and as a result he goes to great lengths to cover his tracks, which often puzzles detectives, confounds profilers, and many times leads to the dreaded “cold case.”

That sums up what I perceive to be the dilemma with the  The Language of God–at least for me.  The author is of course a scientist. As a scientist he is intimately aware of patterns, and how to avoid detection. I suppose this is why, despite my best efforts, I failed  to detect a pattern in his book. To be sure, after a full read I still didn’t understand his aim, nor had I identified his audience. I had the equivalent of a cold case on my hands. Until…

Until I read more about the BioLogos foundation, followed by four recent blog articles in a row on their website bashing the work of Stephen C Meyer and his very popular  “Signature in a Cell” book. It was only then I realized that Francis Collins is first a scientist,  then a believer.

It is no small coincidence that–the initial chapter on his nondescript  “from atheism to belief” notwithstanding– Collins’ book is arranged in the same order. One might argue he wrote it that way to stay consistent with the chronology of his journey, but I could argue back that he just as easily could have started with the the ‘frozen falls’  surrender to Jesus,  and arrived at the same conclusion–perhaps even more compellingly.

But no; he couldn’t have done it that way. The reason is simple: The Language of Francis is science, not God. Of course Collins, ever the vigilant scientist (and musician), softens this reality by using a compositional device whereby he plays a series of dissonant chords in the forms of scientific discoveries that are routinely leveraged to disprove God, then resolves them with a half cadence that begs the reader to the next chapter to experience the full resolution. It goes a little something like this: “Science has pretty much proven life could have happened without God’s divine hand, yep, I admit it—– but wait! There is hope.. and I will tell you why in the next chapter.”

Collins, the great purveyor of truth; his tyro reader hopelessly clinging to a shred of hope that Collins (or Collins’ idol CS Lewis) will present him a single compelling reason to believe in the God he has worshiped his whole life.

Ah, but that description of Collins doesn’t ring true, does it? Collins is neither pompous or condescending like that. From everything I can see, he is a nice and humble family man, with good intentions, and a fabulous scientific track record. So what’s with his approach? The answer lies in this bit on page 219 when Collins finally discussed his faith:

“I now owe you a deeper explanation of my subsequent [spiritual] path. I offer this with some trepidation, since strong passions tend to be incited as soon as one differentitates from a general sense of God’s existence to a specific set of beliefs..”

What “strong passions” might engender Collins’ trepidation? Let’s cut out the middle man here; they aren’t trepidations; they are probably  fears. And they are fears about being blackballed like scientists of the ID movement (best seen in the documentary Expelled–No Intelligence Allowed). Collins’ does the same thing a lot of believers in high positions do: he minces words to skirt the reality that his savior is in fact God, not Darwin, or any of his rabid followers. He wants to maintain his prestige, while clinging to his faith. The result is timidity, and it is found throughout Collins’ book until….

Until he gets to the part where he gives the reader four options:  1) Atheism and Agnosticism; 2) Creationism; 3) Intelligent Design; 4) Collins’ own BioLogos.  Here is where he pours on the infomercial charm, when, after summarily dismissing Intelligent Design on every front, he writes,

“So is the search for harmony between science and faith hopeless? Must we accept the Dawkins perspective: ‘The universe we observe has precisely the properties we should expect if there is, at bottom, no design, no purpose, no evil, and no good, nothing but blind pitiless indifference’?  May it never be so!  To the believer and the scientist alike, I say there is a clear, compelling, and intellectually satisfying solution to this search for truth..”

Can you hear that drum roll? Is this an infomercial in the making or what? I picture Billy Mays jumping into the frame with a picture of Darwin in one hand and Christ in the other..  “That’s right! Darwin plus Jesus equals Darsus–better known as BioLogos!”

That’s right, Collins’ has the truth. And in what he calls a mere “modest proposal” he gently and timidly nudges forth the almighty BioLogos.  Bios= Life. Logos=Word. He paints a warm picture of it when he declares:  “theistic evolution” (which BioLogos orbits around) is less visible than other positions because it promotes “harmony” between warring factions, and well, harmony doesn’t sell newspapers. According to Collins the press is only partly responsible for this discord; it is us consumers who thrive off conflict and discord, “the harsher the better.”

I am a witness. Collins is right: people love conflict. It’s in our nature. And this is demonstrated as clear as daylights on BioLogos own website where its blog writers are right now in the process of creating a very harsh, discordant conflict between the BioLogos and Intelligent Design camps. I’m not going to cover the latest four articles blasting ID, you can read them for yourself starting with this one. There is nothing in the articles that Collins didn’t say himself in his book, but the point is that seems to me BioLogos is engaged in the very destructive behavior Collins himself decries in his book. And I don’t like it.

In my opinion if Collins’ wants to be a true leader, his efforts so far have fallen short. His book lacks sincerity and treats his religion with timidity and reluctance that hardly inspire the inquisitive to explore the Christian religion. I find it very disappointing he doesn’t even mention the fact that he is Catholic. Is he embarrassed? Or is he just scared? Furthermore, by positioning BioLogos as the great purveyor of peace and harmony, and at the same time  dismissing ID as an ignorant  “God of the gaps” pseudo science, he has created unnecessary conflict with fellow Christians that are working their tails off to keep God from being completely eclipsed in the K-12 public school system. And I don’t like it.

If Collins’ is going to sell BioLogos, and sponsor a website devoted to marketing it, perhaps he should stop feigning “modesty”  and actually take a bold step forward and drive his stake into the sand, boldly inviting those on the ID side to come over it for a cup of coffee–rather than portraying them as buffoons bent of undermining both religion and science.

In conclusion, I applaud  Collins for taking the first step and professing his faith, and suggesting a framework for it so religion and science can achieve some harmony.  I can only hope he has a long term plan and this is only the first step. If that is the case, he would do well to stop inventing a new warring faction of conflict and discord.

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