Correlation does not imply causation

The May 2012 issue of National Geographic contains an article on “The Common Hand.”  It also contains a logical fallacy.

The author writes, “The hand is so remarkable that the great Scottish surgeon Sir Charles Bell wrote an entire book in 1833 praising it…At the time, the notion that life evolved was beginning to circulate, but Bell thought a close look at the human hand would dispel such silly talk……There’s just one problem with Bell’s argument:  It didn’t explain why other species have hands too.”

He goes on to explain that Darwin noted that “the hand of man formed for grasping, that of a mole for digging, the leg of the horse, the paddle of the porpoise, and the wing of the bat” all being constructed in the same pattern would be an odd “coincidence.”  He then assumes in the next paragraph that the hand “evolved.”

I am familiar with this argument.  As a high school tutor, I have seen the textbook pictures of the bat wing, whale flipper, and human hand compared and yes, they do each contain five appendages, whether this is obvious from exterior appearance or not.

But…

Most cars have four wheels and no one argues that they evolved that way.  Designers of automobiles figured out that this worked best in creating a stable vehicle whether intended to be a little red wagon or an Indie car.  True, some vehicles have more or less….but some “hands” have more or less appendages also.

Believing that correlation implies causation seems to be a common problem with evolutionists.  It is every bit as logical to think that whoever designed the hand was bright enough to realize that it was a good design and that it was economical and advantageous to reuse the basic design and adapt it to a variety of settings.

I know that I cannot prove creation or intelligent design from the intricacies of the hand.

I just wish those who believe in evolution wouldn’t assume that they can prove their point based on correlation.

Did Judas Have a Mother?

Well, of course, he must have had a mother.  But who was she?  What was she like?  Did she know what her son became?


Tomorrow is Mothers' Day, and I have pondered these questions multiple times over the years, as I have thought of the day that honors mothers.


I have wondered if perhaps the mother of Judas died when he was young, and he grew up without the guidance she might have given.


Or maybe, she was not a very nice person and actually taught him to be greedy and deceptive.


But...she could have been a person like me, who raised him with great hopes for his future, watched with delight as he learned each new thing and prayed earnestly for wisdom to raise him to honor God and do what is right.


As children grow, I don't think they spend any time concerning themselves with their mother's hopes and dreams for them.  They believe they have a right to live their own lives...and they do.  But when they do so carelessly, arrogantly assuming that their choices could not possible have an impact on their mother, they are badly mistaken.


Perhaps Judas' mother was already dead when he betrayed Christ and killed himself, but if she knew and cared, her grief is unimaginable to me.


So today and tomorrow on Mother's Day, I will pray for mothers who are grieving, because they have seen their children commit violent acts against others and in so doing, against themselves.  I pray comfort for them. I pray that they will somehow have the faith to believe that there is redemption for individuals and for circumstances beyond our control.  I pray that the pain will cause them to become conduits for God's love and blessing.  


Mostly I pray with a feeling in my heart and soul, that cannot find utterance in mere words.

Capitalism vs Socialism

Recently I have been following a discussion on capitalism vs socialism which has occurred on a Facebook page.  Since the discussion appears to be among a group of young adults, I'm not sure that my Senior Citizen viewpoint would be appreciated, but here it is....


Although I personally prefer capitalism, I believe both systems have major problems...and not because they are inherently flawed as systems.  The real problem is in the nature of man.  Both systems could potentially work, but both can also be corrupted and break down because of greed on the part of the people implementing them.


In the case of capitalism, there is opportunity for those on the upper levels of the hierarchy to amass wealth and become forgetful of the need to be compassionate and giving.  In an early blog, I railed against this, when in the same week I saw a video about the gold plated seat belt clips on Donald Trump's plane and encountered a young black girl in a drug store begging for money to buy sanitary napkins.  (See Excess vs Need, 8/24/11) But, within capitalism, there are those who are in positions of power who are not self-serving, and give generously of their resources.  There just aren't enough of them.


In the case of socialism, the opportunity to secretly hoard wealth is still present.  Additionally the possibility exists of many individuals developing a sense of entitlement.  I have certainly seen cases of that in the elements of our society where socialism currently comes into play.  People who claim not to have sufficient skills or ability to work, seem to have the ability to play the system for all it's worth; disabilities are faked; payments from the government are fraudulently obtained.


So the real problem isn't socialism vs capitalism.  The real problem is within the heart of man.  We are all capable of being self-serving.  Some of us are "kept in line" by the belief that we will one day have to account for our behavior before a divine judge.  Other people seem to be able to pull this off without that threat hanging over them.  However, many among us see nothing wrong with looking out for #1.  Neither capitalism nor socialism is going to change that.


I am looking forward to the day when the world will be ruled by a "benevolent dictator."  As a Christian, I believe that Christ will return one day to straighten out all of these messes.  In the meantime, I'm afraid it is going to get worse before it gets better, and neither capitalism nor socialism nor a human dictator can bring about Utopia.

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Roar, Lion, Roar

They will follow the Lord; he will roar like a lion.  When he roars, his children will come trembling...
Hosea 11:10


How I wish the Lion would roar!


I am sick of a world in which evil is so pervasive.
I am weary of watching poor choices ruin lives.
I am revolted by the way in which so many mock what is sacred.
And they all appear to be getting away with it.


I long for a world where evil is always punished.
I want to see decisions based on righteous principles.
I desire to live where the sacred is exalted and revered.
And everyone genuinely delights in it.


Who can shake his fist in the face of a lion?
Who can outrun or overpower him?
Who dares to defiantly roar back?
Who does not tremble when he roars.


When He first walked among us, He was meek as a Lamb.
As a sheep before her shearers is silent...
But the Lamb of God will one day return as a Lion.
When he roars, his children will come trembling...


Roar, Lion, Roar!

That wasn’t nine days!

 I am writing this on a flight back to New York after spending the past few days visiting a daughter, son-in-law and two sweet granddaughters in Florida.  We have delighted in the interactions of these days….time at the pool and the beach, walks, bike rides, trips to the playground, sight-seeing, book reading, playing games, snuggling and more book reading. 

When a grandparent doesn’t see a grandchild for a period of months, the changes are somewhat startling.  A child who was in a beginning reader last time is now reading fluently both aloud and silently.    We ride along in the car and the five year old reads the signs along the way… “Mexican Grill, Sushi House, divided highway, uneven lanes.”  How did that happen?  Last time I heard her read it was “See Dan and Jan run.”

Both girls are riding bicycles now instead of trikes.  The six year-old swims without a flotation aide and hangs upside down from the monkey bars by her knees.  They make their own beds, carry their dishes to the kitchen after meals, and dress themselves, including selection of their own clothing which actually matches…usually.

Most of this did not happen magically, of course.  I know how much effort is required of parents to teach good habits.  Some of it does seem to happen in mystical ways, however.  What wondrous mechanism in the human brain causes a child to learn to read or ride a bike?  I understand that repetitive activity causes electronic pathways to be traveled more easily, but it is still miraculous to me.

The time passed much too quickly.   Last night as we talked about leaving today, the five year-old said with indignation, “That was NOT nine days!”  Her mother counted off the days for her on her fingers.  She was quiet as she realized the truth.  It was nine days….nine much too short days.

One of the girls declared they would now have to go back to being bored.  I doubt that those two eager minds are ever actually bored, but, apparently they will miss us, and I know we will miss them.

Little House on the Precipice

Throughout my life, an image of a sweet little Cape Code style house has on occasion floated through my mind.  I see myself as barely more than a toddler exploring the yard and discovering to my great surprise that the house is on the edge of the world!  The grassy area is enclosed by a fence, but through the wire mesh of the fence I see an enormous hole…the biggest and deepest one I have ever seen in my young life.  Each time the pictures play across my brain, they are accompanied by the feeling that I was supposed to live there, but I know the various places I lived as a child and the memories don’t match up with any of them.

I thought perhaps this was a sort of Freudian dream that had some importance to understanding my psyche.  But, once when I described the house and yard to my mother, she shrugged and said, “Well, we almost lived in a place like that once.”  Although she offered no further details, I decided that it wasn’t symbolic of anything….that it was a genuine memory.

One of my uncles was the last survivor of his generation, and as he approached the end of his life, he reminisced about many things.  Without me asking any questions, he shared one day that my parents had planned to move to a little house located right on the edge of a quarry.  My father had actually made a purchase offer and down-payment on the house.  When he took my grandparents to see it, his father was horrified.  He said, “You cannot move that little child into this house.  It is too dangerous.”

My father, being young, freshly out of World War II and struggling to establish himself, protested that he had already made a payment and couldn’t afford to lose the money.  According to my uncle, my grandfather gave my father the amount of the down-payment, so that he would not move me into that house. 

My grandfather was not a wealthy man.  He was a blue-collar worker who had raised his family in the Depression.  He died at the age of 69, when I was only 6 years old.  My memories of him are few and not as intense as those of the other three grandparents who lived until I was a “tween.”  I do remember that he took me for long rides in my wagon, and that he had a hearty laugh.

To these, I now add and treasure the memory of his concern for me.