On Being a Young Earther Luddite

I know that it is all the rage today to think that the universe is ancient beyond comprehension and that men are evolved from bacteria. It can hardly go unnoticed that the stars are really, really far off and that there are dinosaur bones scattered just about everywhere across the planet. When you add that together with Cro-magnon skull fragments, petrified wood, and carbon-14 steady rate decay, it appears as if the old age of the universe and earth is a slam dunk.

I confess that it is a slam dunk for a natural law type of person. By that, I mean the man who believes that all there is can be explained by the scientific method, by natural law, and if need be, genetics. This is the type of man who thinks that religion is a coping mechanism to keep us from realizing that when we die, we go into the void of nothingness. In order to avoid this inconvenient fact, our genes invented religion so we wouldn't turn into non-breeding gothic kids who put off marriage and procreation in favor of black attire and melancholy. In their universe, love is merely a swirling concoction of hormones and genetic pre-disposition for symmetrical faces. There is, in fact, nothing mystical about love, hate, or zealotry over our favorite college team. It's in the genes. And, most abhorrently, the true miracle of the "immaculate reception" is no miracle at all. It is a closed, cold universe headed to the void of nothingness without the faintest wisp of the comfort of metaphysics.

I am not that type of person. I do confess, however, that I have the appalling tendency to want to be liked by men. More specifically, I hate to be thought of as an idiot. So I know that my inclination that the world may be only 10,000 years old or so marks me immediately as bordering on being an imbecile. I have tried, very hard, to harmonize my young earth mentality with the ancient appearance of the universe. Toward this end, I moved back my original calculation all the way from 6,000 years to 10,000. This, for me, was a large compromise, but it will satisfy none of my critics I'm sure.

So how could it come to pass that a man with a liberal arts degree should be so foolish? Alas, I believe in magic. At least, I believe in an omnipotent Creator-God who can, with mere words, make something out of nothing. To use the words of the academy, I believe that everything we see was created ex nihilo. That is akin to Harry Potter conjuring a mouse from thin air, I suppose, to the naturalist. I came to the startling realization that if God Almighty spoke something out of nothing, it is simply absurd to then go and try to age it. Unless, of course, we surmise that when He made it, He made it look "new." This sounds altogether reasonable until we try to compare it to what an old universe might look like. Since there had never been a universe before, we must come to the only logical conclusion that this new universe God made looked just like a new universe, no matter how old we might think it looks. There is, actually, no other universe to compare it to. I guess this means that we are aging it through time as a man would age, by seconds and years back to a time when it was young.

Sometimes, people think I am old because my hair has turned gray. That is a reasonable assumption since gray hair belongs on old men. However, by a cruel twist of genetics, my hair turned gray at the tender age of thirty. If I were to color my hair more brown, and then allow these same fellows to watch me run a half-marathon next Tuesday, they might think I am doing better than one foot in the grave after all. So, just because my hair is gray does not mean I've gotten old. If you are scratching your head as to what this has to do with the age of the universe, just leave this point aside. I simply wanted to feel less old than I appear.

So, oddly, I find myself in the predicament of believing that God spoke in the Bible, that He spoke plainly, and that He has said that He made the world out of nothing. And, He has also said that He put a man on this planet, and that He made one woman out of that man's rib. I believe all of that patent nonsense. I also believe in talking snakes and damning fruit. To the naturalist, I am practically mad and particularly dangerous to a thinking society. If my philosophy were not so repulsive, I could be studied as an odd throw-back to a more primitive day. Instead, I think ridicule is the chosen attack against rubes like myself.

I am glad to have this off of my chest. I hold a sad set of presuppostions that put me at odds with the modern man. I believe in God, and miracles, and I believe in the Bible. Apparently, clinging to this sort of hocus-pocus entails the denial of medication and all scientific advancement. I believe this to be a merely childish insult. I like ibuprofen very much. I am also very fond of the idea that my son and daughter have powerful angels watching over them who obey the every whim of an omnipotent God.

So there you have it, dear reader. I am a young earther Luddite of the highest order. I am not even ashamed of it on good days. You can pray for me, if you like. Or at least, you can blame it on an unfortunate idea one of my ancestor's genes had to give me this wretched coping mechanism.