Along the way I spent a full year in a science class taught by an enthusiastic botanist named Bob, who I still quote. The class was a blast, and his enthusiasm helped me learn to love for the levels of science that I can comprehend.
We studied the fascinating world of DNA, which is like computer data, only unfathomably more complicated than man-made electronics. The proteins on the famous double helix are labeled A, C, T, G, short for their full chemical names. If your DNA protein letters were printed in a book, it would be a huge, one-of-a-kind book of GAT AA AT CT GG TCT T AT T...
Your DNA determines not just the end product, but the development process of all your features – every cell, every organ, every tissue type, every nerve.
Your DNA determines not just the end product, but the development process of all your features – every cell, every organ, every tissue type, every nerve.
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So your DNA would be a huge book, and you can think of it as the Book of You. That was my introduction to DNA. It’s like the Book of You.
Now humor me in this no-man’s-land between theology and science where I’m an expert at neither, but I enjoy meshing them together. One day I noticed this passage in Psalm 139:
Thou hast covered me in my mother's womb. I will praise thee; for I am fearfully and wonderfully made…
My substance was not hid from thee, when I was made in secret, and curiously wrought in the lowest parts of the earth.
Thine eyes did see my substance, yet being unperfect; and in thy book all my members were written,
which in continuance were fashioned, when as yet there was none of them.
My substance was not hid from thee, when I was made in secret, and curiously wrought in the lowest parts of the earth.
Thine eyes did see my substance, yet being unperfect; and in thy book all my members were written,
which in continuance were fashioned, when as yet there was none of them.
In verse 16, the word “substance” can be translated “embryo” (Spanish RV 1960). The word “wrought” is “raqam” and refers to weaving or skillful work like embroidery, which may be one of the finest and detailed arts that David could compare to. He was expressing how his embryo was woven skillfully. In a poetic and prophetic voice he described early embryonic development, even though it wasn’t understood at that time. And long before modern science, David wrote that our features are indeed written in a book. He called it "thy book," or God's book.
So this verse grew in my mind to mean so many things. It’s one thing to sing Jesus Loves Me, and another to know that to understand that He saw my DNA as it was shooting out the wrong orders. Here’s my personalized version of David’s ideas:
You saw me. You watched over me before my parents could do anything to take care of me. You saw my embryo turning on itself incorrectly, becoming imperfect. As the glitches and the malformations were happening, you saw. You knew what the changes would mean for my body that hadn’t even grown yet. You saw the future and the present at once. You saw me waking up on surgery day. You saw me alone in countless X-ray rooms (willing away the radiation) and inside the MRI machines (playing piano pieces in my head). You saw me recovering. You saw every fear and insecurity. You saw all the emotions that would follow me. You saw everything.
David expressed an incredibly personal view of God in verses 17 and 18:
You saw me. You watched over me before my parents could do anything to take care of me. You saw my embryo turning on itself incorrectly, becoming imperfect. As the glitches and the malformations were happening, you saw. You knew what the changes would mean for my body that hadn’t even grown yet. You saw the future and the present at once. You saw me waking up on surgery day. You saw me alone in countless X-ray rooms (willing away the radiation) and inside the MRI machines (playing piano pieces in my head). You saw me recovering. You saw every fear and insecurity. You saw all the emotions that would follow me. You saw everything.
David expressed an incredibly personal view of God in verses 17 and 18:
How precious also are thy thoughts unto me, O God!
how great is the sum of them!
If I should count them, they are more in number than the sand:
As part of that follow up series, a doctor led me into a dark room to look at my MRI. After walking me through everything that is still wrong, he said cheerfully, “But everything works.” And that’s what matters. He began to explain that some of these deformities began in the earliest stages of embryonic development as the cells turn in on themselves like a scroll. As layers of cells meet, sometimes there are misalignments. Depending on microscopic differences, the changes can kill you, or cause profound disabilities, or you may never know it happened to you.
how great is the sum of them!
If I should count them, they are more in number than the sand:
As part of that follow up series, a doctor led me into a dark room to look at my MRI. After walking me through everything that is still wrong, he said cheerfully, “But everything works.” And that’s what matters. He began to explain that some of these deformities began in the earliest stages of embryonic development as the cells turn in on themselves like a scroll. As layers of cells meet, sometimes there are misalignments. Depending on microscopic differences, the changes can kill you, or cause profound disabilities, or you may never know it happened to you.
Here is a less than two minute video illustrating the process I think my doctor was referencing. You can see that comparing it to a scroll is a gross over-simplification. If you Google "neural folding," you come across comments from a lot of frustrated medical students who are trying to understand this process.
My doctor using the word "scroll" brought me back to David’s words. “You saw my embryo…in thy book all my members were written…” A book in David’s time would have been in the form of a scroll. He could not have used a more perfect metaphor to encompass both the physical construction of the embryo as well as the aspect of DNA being a set of data that engineers our features.
So this weird thread in my life story began with a microscopic scroll. What I thought had been a random catastrophe in my life was something that came out of a system so ordered and so complicated that the smallest changes seem like random disasters. The havoc that became my 14th year was the result of an invisible event that no one new about for more than a decade. But God knew the entire time! He watched it happen, and knew what it meant. Even when we didn’t know what He was thinking, He did see and He did care.
Yes, He cared. And I know how saying that may seem arrogant to an unbeliever. But let me explain that this realization is humbling beyond words. I wouldn’t share this story if I didn’t also believe that God cares every individual this much. He knows your DNA code is distinct from mine and from all the others that came before it, and is unique among the billions of people alive today. He sees your life. He knows your name. He knows the number of hairs on your head, and the order of all the As, Ts, Cs, and Gs in your code. He knows every aspect of the Book of You.
And oh, that word unperfect. That speaks volumes to me. It describes the unformed mass of the embryo, not that it was broken, but that it was incomplete. It’s almost comical that God let me – a chronic perfectionist – live with so much permanent imperfection. He knew that I would need a reminder with literally every step I take that life is not just about achieving perfection. He leaves some threads of the story seemingly unfinished, without an clear sense of resolution.
The funny thing is many doctors have called my scar “beautiful” and “perfect.” (I guess glue and tape are nicer than stitches.) I want to respond in sarcasm, because I would rather have no scars. But I have to accept that it’s there for a reason. The process of getting it was a rich learning experience.
And oh, that word unperfect. That speaks volumes to me. It describes the unformed mass of the embryo, not that it was broken, but that it was incomplete. It’s almost comical that God let me – a chronic perfectionist – live with so much permanent imperfection. He knew that I would need a reminder with literally every step I take that life is not just about achieving perfection. He leaves some threads of the story seemingly unfinished, without an clear sense of resolution.
The funny thing is many doctors have called my scar “beautiful” and “perfect.” (I guess glue and tape are nicer than stitches.) I want to respond in sarcasm, because I would rather have no scars. But I have to accept that it’s there for a reason. The process of getting it was a rich learning experience.
Looking back, I see the big flaw in my plan to get healed. I thought the only good outcome to my story was a certain kind of miracle. I do believe that healing and miracles are real, but now I know that faith still believes when nothing makes sense. God doesn’t make mistakes. He gives, and He takes away, and He doesn’t owe me anything. He certainly doesn’t owe us perfection or compensation for the glitches that come to us by our fallen nature and even fallen genetics. He doesn’t owe me a perfect body. He will do things His way. He will heal and keep and preserve.
Years after my surgery, we had dinner with some relatives from out of state who we were meeting for the first time. We were chatting away when they said, “Oh, are you the one who had the back problems? We prayed for you!” I owe so many thanks to everyone who prayed for me during that time. I know it made a difference!
Click HERE for Part 3.
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