Before we get started this morning, I want to say something that’s been on my mind lately.
I think a lot of people are exhausted by being told they have to choose between intellectual honesty and spiritual depth. In some spaces, curiosity is treated like a threat. In others, faith is treated like embarrassment. What I try to offer here is a different path… thoughtful Christian writing that takes both the human mind and the human soul seriously.
That kind of work is becoming rarer than it should be.
And while I never want this space to feel transactional, I do want to be honest that it only continues because readers choose to support it. So if this kind of grounded, reflective faith matters to you, becoming a supporting member helps keep it alive, independent, and available to people who may feel like they no longer fit anywhere else.
Two Ways of Wondering About the Universe
Science explains much of how creation works. Faith asks why it exists at all, and what we are meant to do with it.
A few days ago, I finally pulled into New York after four long days on the road.
As many of you know, I recently left behind my old parish and life in Florida to begin a new chapter closer to family, while making this newsletter and ministry my full-time focus. There is a strange feeling that comes with a transition like that. Part grief. Part exhaustion. Part hope. A great deal of uncertainty mixed together with the sense that God is still leading somewhere, even when the road ahead is not entirely visible.
Now, there are only so many things a person can do while driving thousands of miles alone in an electric vehicle that insists on stopping every few hours to recharge.
There was prayer.
There was silence.
There was brainstorming for this newsletter.
But honestly, about ninety-nine percent of the time, I was listening to the StarTalk Podcast with Neil deGrasse Tyson.
At which point some of you may reasonably ask:
“Father… why on earth are you listening to a science podcast?”
The answer is actually very simple.
Because learning about the universe increases my sense of awe toward its Creator.
For me, trying to understand the cosmos is not separate from spiritual life. Theology is certainly my primary vocation, but scientific curiosity has always felt deeply connected to it. Listening to physicists talk about black holes, time, gravity, quantum mechanics, or the staggering scale of the observable universe does not diminish God for me. It expands my sense of wonder.
Some people have been taught that faith and science are enemies standing on opposite sides of a battlefield. One must win and the other must lose.
I do not believe that.
I never have.
To me, they are two profoundly important paths toward understanding reality. They ask different questions, use different methods, and illuminate different dimensions of existence. They are not rivals. They are companions.
Science asks how stars are formed.
Faith asks why beauty moves the human heart when we look at them.
Science can measure the electrical activity of the brain during prayer.
Faith asks why human beings hunger for transcendence at all.
Science can map galaxies billions of light years away.
Faith asks why the universe is intelligible enough for minds like ours to study in the first place.
Those are not identical questions. But they are deeply connected.
Psalm 19 says, “The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of his hands.”
That verse has always struck me as profoundly scientific in spirit. Scripture does not tell us to ignore creation. It tells us to pay attention to it.
And historically, many Christians did exactly that.
Some of the greatest scientific minds in history were priests, monks, or deeply committed believers. Gregor Mendel, the father of genetics, was an Augustinian friar whose careful experiments with pea plants transformed biology forever. Georges Lemaître, the Catholic priest and physicist who first proposed what became known as the Big Bang theory, understood no contradiction between his priesthood and his scientific work.
In fact, Lemaître warned against forcing theology into bad science or forcing science into bad theology. He believed both had integrity precisely because truth does not fear truth.
The same spirit appears in figures like John Polkinghorne, a renowned theoretical physicist who later became an Anglican priest. He spent decades arguing that science and theology are not enemies competing for territory, but complementary ways of seeking understanding.
Francis Collins, the geneticist who led the Human Genome Project, once described scientific discovery as “an opportunity to worship.”
I think many people are exhausted because they have been told they must amputate part of themselves to belong.
In some religious spaces, scientific curiosity is treated like a threat.
In some scientific or intellectual spaces, spiritual longing is treated like childish superstition.
But human beings are more complex than that.
We are creatures capable of reason and wonder at the same time.
We carry microscopes and prayers.
We calculate trajectories and grieve our dead.
We study atoms and ask moral questions.
Hey, Can I pause here for a moment?
One of the reasons I care so deeply about this work is because I know how many people feel spiritually homeless right now. They’re thoughtful people. Curious people. People who love science, ask difficult questions, and still find themselves drawn toward God… but have often been made to feel like there’s no room for all of that within Christianity.
I want this space to remain a home for those people.
Not shallow certainty. Not culture war outrage. Not fear of learning. Just honest, intellectually grounded faith rooted in Christ.
And it continues because readers decide it’s worth supporting. So if these reflections have been meaningful to you, thank you. Truly. Your support helps make this kind of work possible.
We continue…
Science is extraordinarily powerful at describing mechanisms. It tells us how cells divide, how gravity bends light, how vaccines work, how climate systems shift, how neurons communicate.
But science alone cannot tell us whether power should be used ethically.
It cannot tell us why cruelty wounds the soul.
It cannot explain why love, sacrifice, mercy, beauty, and forgiveness matter so deeply to us.
A microscope cannot measure human dignity.
A scale can only symbolically define justice.
Data alone cannot teach us compassion.
That does not diminish science. It simply means science was never intended to carry the entire weight of human meaning.
Faith, at its best, offers moral orientation, wisdom, humility, and a reminder that knowledge without conscience becomes dangerous very quickly.
At the same time, faith needs honesty. It needs humility too.
Christians should never fear evidence, discovery, or learning. We worship the God of truth. That means we do not need denialism to protect Him.
Over the years, I have met people who were taught that accepting evolution meant abandoning Christianity. Others were taught that scientific literacy automatically required abandoning belief in God. Both assumptions flatten reality into caricature.
The Church has made mistakes in its relationship with science at various points in history. Human beings often do when fear enters the room. But Christianity also helped build universities, preserve learning, and cultivate the intellectual framework that made modern science possible.
The desire to study creation emerged partly from the belief that creation itself is orderly, meaningful, and intelligible because it comes from a rational Creator.
That is deeply important.
Personally, studying science has often strengthened my faith rather than weakened it.
The more I learn about the scale of the cosmos, the more astonishing the Incarnation becomes to me. The God who spoke galaxies into existence also chose intimacy, vulnerability, and relationship.
The more I learn about the complexity of life, the harder it becomes for me to see existence as cheap or disposable.
The more I learn about human psychology and neuroscience, the more compassion I have for the struggles people carry.
Good science can deepen humility.
Good theology should do the same.
Neither discipline thrives under arrogance.
And maybe that is part of what our culture desperately needs right now.
Less tribalism.
Less fear.
Less pretending that complex questions have simplistic answers.
More intellectual honesty.
More reverence.
More willingness to admit that human beings are still learning.
For Christians especially, faith should never require us to close our eyes. Christ repeatedly called people to deeper sight, not blindness.
There is a reason the Church has produced theologians, philosophers, astronomers, mathematicians, physicians, and scientists across centuries. Seeking understanding is not rebellion against God. Properly ordered, it can become an act of devotion.
Not every scientific advancement will be morally good. Not every religious claim is wise or healthy. Discernment matters. Ethics matter. Human dignity matters.
But curiosity itself is not the enemy.
Wonder is not the enemy.
Truth is never the enemy of God.
As always, I would genuinely love to hear your thoughts in the comments.
Did you grow up being taught that faith and science were opposed to each other? Has your perspective changed over time? Were there experiences, books, teachers, or discoveries that helped you hold both together more honestly?
Prayer
Lord of heaven and earth,
You are the author of all truth. Nothing that is real exists outside Your knowledge or beyond Your care. The galaxies, the oceans, the smallest living cell, and the hidden depths of the human heart all remain held within Your sustaining love.
Teach us not to fear honest questions.
Give us the humility to keep learning, and the wisdom to recognize the limits of our understanding. Protect us from arrogance disguised as certainty, whether in religion, politics, or science. Help us become people who seek truth with integrity rather than using knowledge to dominate or wound others.
For those who have been told they must abandon reason in order to believe, bring healing. For those who have lost any sense of wonder or transcendence, awaken their hearts again. For scientists, teachers, physicians, researchers, clergy, and all who search for understanding, grant clarity, moral courage, and compassion.
In a noisy and divided world, anchor us in Christ, who is Truth itself.
May our learning lead us toward reverence.
May our faith lead us toward wisdom.
May both lead us toward love.
Amen.
Before you go, I want to leave you with this.
You are not foolish for wanting faith that can survive honest questions. You are not weak for longing for both wonder and wisdom at the same time. Human beings were created with minds capable of discovery and hearts capable of reverence. We do not have to amputate one to preserve the other.
Part of why I write these reflections is because I believe many people are searching for a Christianity spacious enough for both truth and awe, both intellect and devotion, both curiosity and Christ.
And that kind of work takes support to continue.
So if this reflection resonated with you, I want to invite you to become a supporting member. Your support helps keep this ministry independent, thoughtful, and rooted in the kind of Christianity that is not afraid of science, questions, complexity, or wonder.