No Longer Utilitarian: A Scientist Refuses a Divider Between Christian Life and Vocation

Among the most conservative branches of the Christian tradition in which I was raised, a utilitarian philosophy surrounding vocational choices is somewhat popular. This philosophy is grounded in an admirable effort to remove distraction so that more time is free for service to God and to His people. It is my contention, however that this position is dangerous. In 2012, I chose to pursue a graduate degree in biology against the advice of friends operating from this utilitarian paradigm. One year ago today, I finished that degree. Today, on the anniversary of my dissertation defense, I am enjoying some extra free time during my first summer break as a professor at a Christian liberal arts university in central Arkansas and reflecting on the choice to pursue a vocation that demands so much of my time and attention. It has not been without its difficulties, but I am convinced that it was the right choice. Here’s why:

Utilitarianism Promotes a Divided Life

In the utilitarian view, a secular vocation is seen as a necessary evil – something to be given minimal effort in order to conserve energy for that which is of utmost importance. By doing so, many with this philosophy find themselves living a divided life – one part secular and the other part spiritual. The man or woman who successfully minimizes the secular compartment to a size which meets only necessity’s demands is the successful Christian. However, do you see the problem? There are still two compartments. By rejecting the notion that a secular vocation is merely a necessary evil and instead choosing it as an extension of a single life that is wholly devoted to the work of God, I have been blessed with a fullness that I could not experience while operating under the utilitarian paradigm. The psalmist writes in Psalm 86:11: Teach me Your way, O Lord; I will walk in Your truth; Unite my heart to fear Your name. Isn’t that beautiful? Unite my heart. Fullness of devotion to Christ requires a united heart, not a divided one. Every part of my heart must have the same direction. That leaves no room for a separation between the secular and the spiritual, even if the secular compartment is small. If we are to pursue Christ single-mindedly, that precludes the option of simply minimizing the compartment devoted to secular things. The secular compartment must go away. One option, I suppose, would be to eliminate a secular vocation altogether. However, refusing to work at all is not only impractical, but it is non-biblical. Paul warns against it in 2 Thessalonians 3, and in 1 Timothy 5:8 says, But if anyone does not provide for his own, and especially for those of his household, he has denied the faith. So, eliminating the secular compartment by refusing secular work is not an option for a Christian. Fortunately, there is another, better, more fulfilling option: Whatever you do in word or deed, do all in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks through Him to God the Father. (Colossians 3:17). Instead of two compartments, the Christian must have one – one in which the name of the Lord Jesus permeates his or her every choice. It is this final option that I chose when I pursued my graduate degree in biology. Rather than expanding my secular compartment and squeezing out the spiritual, as some feared, I chose to reject the idea of a divider altogether. My whole life would be devoted to Christ, including my vocation.

Seeing Your Vocation as an Extension of Your Faith

I chose a vocation that is, perhaps, more easily permeated by faith than others. I’ll talk about that in my next point. However, the reality is that, if you are a Christian, you must not divide your life into little compartments. You have committed your whole life to Christ. CS Lewis writes: Christ says, ‘Give me All. I don’t want so much of your time and so much of your money and so much of your work: I want You.’ You. All of you. All of your work. All of your hopes. All of your dreams. All of your time. Instead of sorting your time into that which is devoted to Christ and that which is a necessary evil, He demands that you surrender it all. Your vocation belongs to Him. You pledged it to Him the day you pledged your life to him. It does you no good to minimize the compartment. You must open it into the other. Pull out the divider. Let His goals and dreams for you collide with and change yours. Let Him call you – even in your vocation – to be stronger, better, more devoted, than you ever could be without Him. CS Lewis (again):  If I am a field that contains nothing but grass-seed, I cannot produce wheat. Cutting the grass may keep it short: but I shall still produce grass and no wheat. If I want to produce wheat, the change must go deeper than the surface. I must be ploughed up and re-sown. If you keep your “grass short” or your “secular compartment small”, you will never be fully like Christ, because there is a part of you, however small, that you see as separate from your life in Him.

Science and Faith in One Box

To be a Christian scientist seems to some to be an oxymoron – and it seems that way both to Christians and to atheists. However, I have not found it to be so. I have, instead, found it to be one of the most natural extensions of my faith. It is far easier for me to see my work as a biologist in the framework of faith than it is for me to see, say, washing dishes as an extension of my faith (and yes, there are ways for faith to permeate dish washing as well). During graduate school, however, I often struggled to see Christ in my work. My work was so very focused on something quite small, and it was difficult to take my mind back and back to the glory of God in the calcium pump I studied. Yet, I persisted. I did not, however, anticipate the overwhelming flood of Christ that has come into my vocation since I finished my Ph.D. a year ago. I have come out of the tunnel that belongs to calcium pumps, and the largeness of life on this earth has exploded once again on my vision. Beyond that, even the intricacies of the physical sciences have come into view again.

When my students are becoming bogged down with the details of body systems, I sometimes make them stop taking notes for moment. “Discovery leads to wonder,” I tell them, “and wonder wants to worship. As Christians, we have an object on which to focus that worship. Choose to be impressed by what you are discovering about creation. Wonder about it. And then, worship.” This is the natural progression. This is why I became a biologist in the first place. It is in the world around us, in part, that God leaves his fingerprints. The Bible tells us in Psalm 19, The heavens are telling of the glory of God; and their expanse is declaring the work of His hands. Day to day pours forth speech, and night to night reveals knowledge. There is no speech, nor are there words; their voice is not heard. God reveals Himself not only in the written words of scripture, but in creation itself. The heavens tell the glory of God, and so do all of the lifeforms here on earth. But, they do so without words. Recently, I was at a conference where New Testament scholar NT Wright spoke about this. He said, Humans are the beings that sum up the praises of creation and present them before God. Can you see the beauty of that? Creation praises without words, but as a scientist, I get a front row seat to that praise. I get to sum them up and put them into words and present them before God and before all people. Why would I devote so much of my life to this vocation? So that I can read the praises of creation, interpret them, and tell them to God. And that, my friends, is worth every hour I spent at the microscope, every night that I didn’t get enough sleep, every manuscript I read, every tear I shed, every day I spent pursuing that degree. I can now taste the fruit of those labors and that fruit is so very good. 

For since the creation of the world His invisible attributes, His eternal power and divine nature, have been clearly seen, being understood through what has been made… - Romans 1:20