The Case for a Creator - Lee Strobel [36]
When I flew into snowy Spokane, Washington, to interview Meyer at Whitworth College, where he was an associate professor of philosophy, I wasn’t aware that he was in the midst of telling his colleagues that he would be leaving soon to become director and senior fellow at the Center for Science and Culture at the Discovery Institute in Seattle. His impending departure was a poignant time for Meyer, since he had spent more than a decade as one of the most popular professors at the school.
To steal some time alone, we commandeered a nondescript off-campus office, where decorating was an apparent afterthought, and sat down in facing chairs for what would turn out to be virtually an entire day of animated, rapid-fire conversation. In fact, the full transcript of our discussion would top a whopping thirty thousand words—a small book in itself!
At one point, Meyer said, “I was once tested for hyperactivity as a kid. Can you imagine?” Yes, I could. Dressed in a dark blue suit, patterned tie, woolly gray socks, and brown Doc Martin shoes, the lanky Meyer was crackling with energy, speaking enthusiastically in quick bursts of words. His wispy brown hair spilled down onto his forehead, giving him a youthful appearance, but his eyebrows were furrowed in intensity.
His students sometimes faulted him for an absentminded professor’s lack of classroom organization, but he made up for it with his infectious passion and disarming sincerity. When he answered my questions, it was in a thorough, systematic, and structured way, almost as if he were reading off invisible note cards. He came off as being brilliant, articulate, and driven.
After swapping some personal stories, we zeroed in on the issue of science and faith. His perspective, not surprisingly, was vastly different from the one I had when I began studying Darwinism in school.
“A ROBUST CASE FOR THEISM”
“We live in a technological culture where many people believe science trumps all other forms of knowledge,” I said to Meyer. “For example, philosopher J. P. Moreland described meeting an engineer who was completing his doctorate in physics. ‘According to him,’ Moreland said, ‘only science is rational; only science achieves truth. Everything else is mere belief and opinion. He went on to say that if something cannot be quantified or tested by the scientific method . . . it cannot be true or rational.’ 7 Harvard geneticist Richard Lewontin claimed science is ‘the only begetter of truth.’ 8 Do you agree with those perspectives?”
“No, I don’t,” came Meyer’s reply. “Ironically, to say that science is the only begetter of truth is self-contradicting, because that statement in itself cannot be tested by the scientific method. It’s a self-defeating philosophical assumption.
“Beyond that,” he continued, “while I certainly respect science, I don’t believe scientific knowledge necessarily takes precedence over other things that we know. For instance, Moreland has argued that there are some things we know more certainly through introspection than we know from the sciences. I know I have free will on the basis of my introspection, and no studies in the social sciences will convince me otherwise.”
He motioned toward a light switch on the wall. “I know I can turn that switch on, and I refute those who say I was determined thus,” he said, leaning over to turn on the light. “In addition, history can tell us much, even though we can’t test it by repeated experiment.
“Now, there’s no question that science does teach us many important things about the natural world. But the real question is, ‘Do these things point