Miracles

by Eric Metaxas

  Before we get much further, we have to explain that we wouldn’t be asking this question—certainly not in the same way—if we didn’t believe that the universe had a beginning. For many cultures and in many eras, it was believed that the universe had always existed and therefore had no beginning. The ancient Greek philosophers held this view, and in the modern era, until the middle of the last century, most scientists held this view as well. Of course, the ancient Hebrews believed that God created the universe out of nothing, but almost no other culture held to the belief that the universe had come into existence at a specific point.

  The term that the scientists used for a universe that had always existed, and that had never been created, was the “Steady State model.” But by the middle of the twentieth century, many scientists began to abandon this idea to conclude that the universe did have a beginning after all. It seemed that humble Moses, writing thirty-five centuries earlier, had gotten that right. This is itself a witheringly strong argument for the divine origin of the Bible, though that’s a wider discussion for another time. Even as the evidence for the universe’s beginning increased, some scientist still clung to the Steady State model—and some still do today—perhaps in part because the idea of a creation seemed to imply a creator, which is for some an unpalatable thought. But as the evidence continued to grow, more and more believed that the universe was created in what eventually came to be known as the “Big Bang,” a term unintentionally coined by the physicist Sir Fred Hoyle in a 1949 BBC interview. According to this view, the whole universe arose—or actually exploded—out of nothing and has continued to explode, or expand, ever since. But it wasn’t until 1964 that there was solid evidence to make this the generally accepted theory. That’s the year the famous “background radiation” was accidentally discovered by Arno Penzias and Robert Woodrow Wilson. After this discovery, the scientific consensus formed that our universe came into being some billions of years ago. The latest estimate puts it at about fourteen billion years.

  When we think of the Big Bang, we cannot be blamed for thinking of an explosion that is like other explosions, which tend to be messy and generally rather unpredictable. But the Big Bang—the primal ka-boom that created the hundreds of billions of galaxies, each containing hundreds of billions of stars and planets—was a dramatically different kind of explosion. It was an explosion that was so extremely and precisely controlled that we cannot really fathom it. Nothing human beings have ever been able to do can begin to approach the precision of it. And it is only because it was precisely as controlled as it was that the universe exists.

  But the details of the precision are worth considering. Indeed we must consider them if we wish to have some idea of the wild miracle of our existence.

  We may begin with the simplest example of control: the speed of the explosion. We now know that if the speed of this universe-creating explosion had been ever so slightly different, the universe would not exist. If it had been the tiniest bit faster, for example, matter would have dispersed so efficiently that none of it would have clumped together to form galaxies. If that had happened, there would have been no stars or planets. But if the universe had expanded ever so slightly slower, it would have clumped together into an almost infinitely dense lump that contained all the matter in existence. Literally. And because of this big lump of everything, there would be nothing else. No galaxies or suns or planets. Of course life of any kind would not have been even remotely possible.

  But to say that it was controlled or precisely calibrated can hardly begin to explain the degree of control involved. In fact, the speed at which the cosmos expanded out of that microdot in question was so outrageously perfectly calibrated that physicists say it constitutes the “most extreme fine-tuning yet discovered in physics.” Astrophysicist Hugh Ross says an “analogy that does not even come close to describing the precarious nature of this cosmic balance [between too fast and too slow] would be a billion pencils all simultaneously positioned upright on their sharpened points on a smooth glass surface with no vertical supports.”

  There are many more examples of the universe’s fine-tuning as it exploded out of the gate fourteen billion years ago. We’ll only touch on a handful, again underscoring the idea that if any one of these were different by, in some cases, a fraction of a fraction of a fraction of a percent, the universe itself could not exist.

  Some illustrations of the fine-tuning of our universe deal with the so-called four fundamental forces physicists talk about, and with which most laymen are unacquainted. These four forces are 1.) gravity, 2.) the electromagnetic force, 3.) the weak nuclear force, and 4.) the strong nuclear force. Most of us know what gravity is and does. The strong nuclear force holds the nucleus (meaning the protons and neutrons) of an atom together. The weak force deals with radioactive decay and neutrino reactions, among other things, and the electromagnetic force essentially holds atoms and molecules together. And if any of these forces were in the slightest degree different, our universe would not exist. But how were the values of these four fundamental forces determined, and how is it that they just happened to be precisely right for our universe to come into being?

  Perhaps more impressive is that each of these crucially precise values was established once and for all within one-millionth of a second after the Big Bang. In other words, immediately. Trying to comprehend something happening before the first millionth of a second of the universe’s existence is rather beyond our conceptual capacity. But it’s a fact known to all those who study such things that by the time the universe was one-millionth of a second old, the values of these four forces were set, as it were, in cement. Nor have these forces deviated in the slightest in the fourteen billion years since. Given this track record, we can presume they’ll be the same tomorrow. And as we have said, each of them has a value that, like the speed of the exploding universe, is so heart-stoppingly precisely calibrated that we can hardly take it in. If one of these four forces were ever so slightly different, our universe would not exist.

  Let’s consider the value of the strong nuclear force. As we’ve said, this governs how tightly protons and neutrons cling to each other. Science has discovered that if this force were 2 percent weaker, protons and neutrons could not stick together, giving us a universe of only hydrogen atoms (whose nucleus has no neutrons and just one proton). Of course, that’s not much of a “universe.” On the other hand, if the strong nuclear force were 0.3 percent stronger, protons and neutrons would stick together with such force that only “heavy” elements would exist, and there would be no hydrogen whatsoever. Neither a universe with only hydrogen nor a universe with no hydrogen can support life. So the strong nuclear force must be precisely what it is or the universe would not exist.

  Speaking of supporting life, which is carbon-based, we know that a great abundance of the element carbon must exist for any life to exist. It’s been postulated that there could perhaps be silicon-based life in the universe, but this idea by now has been generally dismissed as unworkable. For life to be possible anywhere in our universe, there needed to be vast amounts of carbon. In 1953, Sir Fred Hoyle—the Cambridge astronomer who coined the term “Big Bang”—discovered that the nuclear ground-state energy levels* of helium, carbon, oxygen, and beryllium had to be extraordinarily fine-tuned for enough carbon to be created. If any of the nuclear ground-state levels were just 1 percent different, there would not have been enough carbon in the universe to allow for the possibility of life. To Hoyle, an atheist, the notion that this perfect fine-tuning had “just happened” was statistically quite impossible. But what else could account for it? He later admitted that it was this discovery of these extraordinarily fine-tuned levels—and what he saw as the overwhelming implication of a “guiding intelligence” behind them—that, more than anything else, had “greatly shaken” him and his atheism. He later wrote, “A common sense interpretation of the facts suggests that a superintellect has monkeyed with physics, as well as with chemistry a
nd biology, and that there are no blind forces worth speaking about in nature. The numbers one calculates from the facts seem to me so overwhelming as to put this conclusion almost beyond question.”

  For any life to be possible in the universe, we need not only a superabundance of carbon but also the presence of at least forty different other elements. Of course we’ve got upward of a hundred. But forty are necessary, as a minimum. If we recall our high school chemistry, we remember that every molecule has a nucleus, composed of protons and neutrons, and that every nucleus is orbited by electrons. Creating different kinds of molecules requires electrons that can leave their orbits around one molecule and leap to another molecule. But if the electromagnetic force were any stronger, the nuclei would hold the electrons exactly where they are, not allowing them to pull away and join other molecules. On the other hand, if the electromagnetic force were slightly weaker than it is, atoms would not hang on to their electrons at all. In either case, life could not exist.

  Theoretical particle physicist Paul Davies has himself said that “the impression of design is overwhelming.” Another startling example of this fine-tuning concerns the ratio of the strong nuclear force to the electromagnetic force. Davies himself calculated that if the ratio between them had been different by just one part in ten to the sixteenth power, the universe as we know it would not exist. To put it in another way, if that ratio had deviated by .00000000000000001 percent, the universe would not be here. But, the ratio just happens to be exactly and precisely what it needs to be, and here we are.

  Still, even these freakishly tall odds pale in comparison to the ratio of the electromagnetic force to the gravitational force. Physicists have calculated that if that ratio had been different by one part in 10,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000, the universe would not exist. But somehow, it is just what it needs to be. Statistically this is quite impossible, but once again there it is and here we are. To explain why this is such an important ratio, we need to see that if it were that tiny fraction higher, only large stars would form; if it were that tiny superfraction smaller, only small stars would form. For life to be remotely possible in the universe, the universe must contain both large stars and small stars. That’s because only in the centers of the large stars are most of the life-essential elements produced, and only a small star like our sun can burn steadily for billions of years, without which exceedingly steady burning, we couldn’t be here. Again, that long number—one followed by forty zeroes, or ten to the fortieth power—is the maximum level of deviation beyond which even the possibility of life is ruled out. Of course that number is hard to comprehend. In his book God’s Undertaker, Cambridge mathematician John Lennox says that the accuracy needed to hit a number that precisely is “the kind of accuracy a marksman would need to hit a coin at the far side of the observable universe, twenty billion light-years away.” It’s probably hard for us to think about a distance of twenty billion light-years, so let’s consider another analogy of these same odds, given to us by Caltech astrophysicist Hugh Ross.

  Ross tells us to imagine covering every square inch of the surface of North America with dimes. Once that is done, put on another layer. Take your time. Now put on another layer and then another. And one more. Continue this exercise until the dimes reach the height of the moon, which we’ve earlier said is about 238,000 miles up. This would constitute rather a large number of coins, of course. But we’re far from finished. Once you’ve covered all of North America to the height of the moon, do exactly the same thing on another billion continents of the same size as North America. If you are unable to locate that many other continents of that size, simply imagine doing that. Now randomly choose one dime in those billion 238,000-mile-high piles, paint it red, and put it back in the pile. Then blindfold a friend (no peeking) and ask him to pick out one of the coins from one of the billion continent-size, 238,000-mile-high piles. The odds of his picking out the red dime are ten to the fortieth power. Feel free to gulp.

  The number of conditions like these only continues to grow. If any one of these conditions were not met precisely, the universe could not exist.

  For example, we know that a proton has about 1,836 times the mass of an electron, but science has calculated that if that ratio were slightly larger or smaller, the universe would not exist. We also know that the average distance between stars in our part of the Milky Way galaxy is roughly thirty trillion miles, but we also now know that if this were much more or much less, our solar system could not exist. Everywhere we turn there is evidence of fine-tuning and design. It is as if almost every parameter we are able to measure turns out to be necessary for the universe to exist, as though every aspect of the universe is perfectly and intentionally interlocked with every other aspect in a way that challenges our imaginations to consider.

  Before we go, however, let’s touch on two examples of fine-tuning that are far more dramatic than the ones we have mentioned. The astrophysicist Hugh Ross explains that the expansion of the universe is governed by the mass density of the universe and the space energy density. Ross says that in order for enough stars and planets to exist for the possibility of life in the universe, the value of the mass density has to be fine-tuned to one part in ten to the sixtieth power. Are we surprised to learn that it is fine-tuned to that level? But Ross says that the value of the space energy density must be calibrated to a far higher level of precision. That value must be fine-tuned to less than one part in ten to the 120th power. Happily, it is.

  The more science learns, the clearer it is that although we are here, we shouldn’t be. Once we begin considering the details of it all, the towering odds against our existence begin to become a bit unsettling. When we come to see the superlatively extreme precariousness of our existence, and begin to understand how by any accounting, we ought not to exist, what are we to think or feel? Our existence seems to be not merely a virtually impossible miracle but the most outrageous miracle conceivable, one that makes previously amazing miracles seem like almost nothing.

  It’s as if someone logically convinced you that the odds of being able to take your next few breaths were infinitesimally small. If we really believed it, we would begin to breath cautiously, perhaps even timidly and tentatively, expecting our next intake of breath to yield no oxygen. The slimness of our being here is so slim that it’s enough to leave us goggle-eyed with terror—until in the next moment we realize we are indeed here and explode with gratitude for our very existence. This really can be the only proper and logical response to it all, to marvel and rejoice and rest in the genuinely unfathomable miracle of our being.

  But there are yet two questions that must be answered.

  The first is: Why haven’t we heard any of this before? Of course a few people have heard some of it before, perhaps in a sermon by a hip, especially knowledgeable, apologetics-focused pastor. But the majority of people have not. Why haven’t they? Mainly, because what the public comes to learn, whether via the media or via textbooks in the classroom, always lags far behind what science learns. So if in recent years new information has been discovered, it doesn’t mean that this information will be disseminated to the public immediately. Even most scientists lag far behind on much of this new information and still cling to outdated concepts and theories. Each scientist focuses on his or her field and can hardly be expected to be up on the latest cosmological theories any more than a family doctor can be expected to know what is happening on the cutting edge of research on every disease. It’s simply not possible. Finally, many scientists hold so strongly to materialistic assumptions that they are predisposed against these ideas and simply may not take them seriously enough to look further into them. The more time passes, however, the more evidence emerges supporting the fine-tuning theory, so the general scientific consensus grows broader each day, making it more difficult to justify dissent. Of course, this does not mean some do not try.

  This leads us to our second question. What are we to make
of what have been called the “anything but that” theories, which rather desperately try to find ways around the mounting evidence for—and implications of—a finely tuned universe? The most popular at present is the so-called multi-universe—or “multiverse”—theory, which postulates the existence of an infinity of other universes “that we cannot perceive.” According to this almost comically clever idea, if there exists an infinity of other universes—and this is an infinitely big “if”—one of them must of course by chance possess all the variables perfectly right for everything to exist just as it does in fact exist—and would you be very surprised to learn that we just happen to exist in that one universe? How lucky for us. Of course, there is no scientific evidence for this theory, unless perhaps we simply “cannot perceive” the evidence. Of this multiverse theory, eminent physicist Sir John Polkinghorne has said: “Let us recognize these speculations for what they are. They are not physics, but in the strictest sense, metaphysics. There is no purely scientific reason to believe in an ensemble of universes.” Philosopher Richard Swinburne put it less diplomatically: “To postulate a trillion-trillion other universes, rather than one God, in order to explain the orderliness of our universe, seems the height of irrationality.”

  So having answered these two questions and holding only to what science is able to tell us at the beginning of the twenty-first century, it seems impossible to avoid logically concluding that the existence of our universe is a miracle, one of impossible proportions. The more we know, the clearer it is that we should not be here to think about being here. We are a distinct mathematical impossibility. Do we simply shrug at this and move on, or dare we consider its implications? To simply say It is what it is or to prestidigitate the escape hatch of an infinity of universes is to ignore the sharp point of the assembled facts. To turn away or to tut-tut that one needs more time to think about it seems like intellectual dishonesty. Reason and science compel us to see what previous generations could not: that our existence is an outrageous and astonishing miracle, one so startlingly and perhaps so disturbingly miraculous that it makes any miracle like the parting of the Red Sea pale in such insignificance that it almost becomes unworthy of our consideration, as though it were something done easily by a small child, half-asleep. It is something to which the most truly human response is some combination of terror and wonder, of ancient awe and childhood joy.