Servant Eyes -- FPC sermon excerpt
Snake eyes.
That’s what you see when you roll a pair of dice and get two ones. It’s a loser in many games, and often associated with bad luck.
Our ancestors had snake eyes.
But for them, it was really quite lucky.
Over time, our ancient relatives developed eyes that enabled them to detect and avoid their most dangerous predator: The snake. This characteristic allowed them to survive, thrive, and develop into full-fledged human beings.
Genesis has it right, says anthropologist Lynee Isbell: “The snake made us human.”
Just picture an ancient primate, unable to see and identify objects that are close by and in front of her. A poisonous snake is near enough to bite her, so it does — killing her and ending her ability to reproduce. A few yards away is another primate, one whose eyes are slightly better and able to spot the deadly serpent and avoid it. The second primate goes on to be fruitful and multiply, passing her genes through a succession of generations that stretch to the present day.
This is evolutionary biology at its simplest and most profound. Not some kind of dog-eat-dog survival of the fittest, but instead survival of those who have characteristics that enable them to thrive and reproduce. Many of you know that I was a biology major in college — I love this stuff!
Anthropologist Isbell makes this argument in her book The Fruit, the Tree and the Serpent: Why We See So Well. She is convinced that our distant primate relatives developed an exceptional ability to see and identify objects that were close by and in front of them. Those who had this ability were able to avoid snakebites — a very real threat to human life, one that still kills 150,000 people a year.
A church member recently told me a joke about snakes. Two snakes are slithering along together, and one asks, “Are we poisonous?”
“Yes,” says the other. “Why do you ask?”
“I just bit my lip.”
But this particular strand of development did not end with better vision for humans. Our ancient experience with snakes caused us to fear them, creating a deep-seated emotion that pops up in the story of the serpent in the Garden of Eden, and the Rainbow Serpent of Australian myth. The Book of Revelation, which we immersed ourselves in through much of September and October, speaks of “that ancient serpent, who is called the Devil and Satan, the deceiver of the whole world” (12:9).
In addition, snake-spotting shaped the evolutionary path of primate brains, leading to the development of language. Isbell argues that once our ancestors were able to spot serpents, they began to point to them in an effort to communicate the danger to others. This pointing was a critical step in the development of language, which transmitted information that served the good of the community.
Our human development continues today, not by looking down at serpents but by looking up to God. “To you I lift up my eyes, O you who are enthroned in the heavens!” says Psalm 123. “As the eyes of servants look to the hand of their master ... our eyes look to the LORD our God” (vv. 1-2).
We should give our ancestors credit: They developed snake eyes — eyes that enabled them to spot deadly serpents and point them out to others. But the question for us today is this: Have we developed servant eyes? Eyes that can follow the hand of the master, look to the Lord and discern God’s ways?
Future human evolution will challenge us to get our eyes off the ground, and focused on God. Our visual acuity must continue to develop, in the area of spiritual sight.
That’s what you see when you roll a pair of dice and get two ones. It’s a loser in many games, and often associated with bad luck.
Our ancestors had snake eyes.
But for them, it was really quite lucky.
Over time, our ancient relatives developed eyes that enabled them to detect and avoid their most dangerous predator: The snake. This characteristic allowed them to survive, thrive, and develop into full-fledged human beings.
Genesis has it right, says anthropologist Lynee Isbell: “The snake made us human.”
Just picture an ancient primate, unable to see and identify objects that are close by and in front of her. A poisonous snake is near enough to bite her, so it does — killing her and ending her ability to reproduce. A few yards away is another primate, one whose eyes are slightly better and able to spot the deadly serpent and avoid it. The second primate goes on to be fruitful and multiply, passing her genes through a succession of generations that stretch to the present day.
This is evolutionary biology at its simplest and most profound. Not some kind of dog-eat-dog survival of the fittest, but instead survival of those who have characteristics that enable them to thrive and reproduce. Many of you know that I was a biology major in college — I love this stuff!
Anthropologist Isbell makes this argument in her book The Fruit, the Tree and the Serpent: Why We See So Well. She is convinced that our distant primate relatives developed an exceptional ability to see and identify objects that were close by and in front of them. Those who had this ability were able to avoid snakebites — a very real threat to human life, one that still kills 150,000 people a year.
A church member recently told me a joke about snakes. Two snakes are slithering along together, and one asks, “Are we poisonous?”
“Yes,” says the other. “Why do you ask?”
“I just bit my lip.”
But this particular strand of development did not end with better vision for humans. Our ancient experience with snakes caused us to fear them, creating a deep-seated emotion that pops up in the story of the serpent in the Garden of Eden, and the Rainbow Serpent of Australian myth. The Book of Revelation, which we immersed ourselves in through much of September and October, speaks of “that ancient serpent, who is called the Devil and Satan, the deceiver of the whole world” (12:9).
In addition, snake-spotting shaped the evolutionary path of primate brains, leading to the development of language. Isbell argues that once our ancestors were able to spot serpents, they began to point to them in an effort to communicate the danger to others. This pointing was a critical step in the development of language, which transmitted information that served the good of the community.
Our human development continues today, not by looking down at serpents but by looking up to God. “To you I lift up my eyes, O you who are enthroned in the heavens!” says Psalm 123. “As the eyes of servants look to the hand of their master ... our eyes look to the LORD our God” (vv. 1-2).
We should give our ancestors credit: They developed snake eyes — eyes that enabled them to spot deadly serpents and point them out to others. But the question for us today is this: Have we developed servant eyes? Eyes that can follow the hand of the master, look to the Lord and discern God’s ways?
Future human evolution will challenge us to get our eyes off the ground, and focused on God. Our visual acuity must continue to develop, in the area of spiritual sight.
posted by Henry Brinton | 1:47 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home