Fearfully and Wonderfully

             For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother’s womb. I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well. (Psalm 13 9:13-14)

 

It’s said that familiarity breeds contempt and I suspect most of our lives would prove that with respect to our bodies. Even those who seem to take good care of their bodies probably do so against their own inclinations or fail to do so in every area. They’re our bodies and we have a right to do with them as we will – a right that we defend almost exclusively when we are doing something that isn’t good for us.

The truth of the matter is that while we are familiar with our bodies, we don’t tend to really understand how it all works. Even doctors fail to understand it all. When I’ve read or heard about things the body does – much of it without our awareness or attention – I have to agree with David. We are fearfully and wonderfully made. The complexity and elegance of the human body is amazing. Think, for a moment, about the coordination needed even to type a simple sentence. Your brain has to select the words, know how to spell them closely enough that the spellchecker can correct you. It has to send messages from the brain to the fingers, telling them which letters to hit on the keyboard, with your eyes monitoring the outcome. When the eyes inform the brain that something isn’t right, your brain sends a message to the fingers to delete and retype.

That’s just the over-simplified version of what does on in terms of internal communication. There’s also the biomechanical aspects of muscles, tendons, bones, and skin all providing the capacity to strike the keys needed. And then there’s the whole backstage crew that takes in food, breaks it down, stores the energy, transports the energy, fights invaders, repairs damage, eliminates waste, and so much more.

And it’s not just our own immediate bodies. This morning, I discovered that my dog has hands. They happen to be attached to my body, but she expressed her displeasure with her leash being draped across her tail, and I moved it. I know people whose legs don’t work who have gained mechanical adaptations to their bodies in the form of wheelchairs. I use little pieces of plastic to compensate for my eyes not bringing things into focus. Who would have thought that “Barbie-doll serving bowls” could be put on one’s eye to allow one to see better? Or (returning to the earlier example) fingers could type words without our consciously thinking about the correct spelling?

Some folks think that as we get to know better how things actually work, we’ll reach the point where we realize we don’t need God as an explanation. I’m of the opposite opinion. As we come to understand more about how the body works, I find evolution less and less plausible – and God more and more amazing.