In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth. Now the earth was formless and empty, darkness was over the surface of the deep, and the Spirit of God was hovering over the waters.
And God said, “Let there be light,” and there was light. God saw that the light was good, and he separated the light from the darkness. God called the light “day,” and the darkness he called “night.” And there was evening, and there was morning—the first day.
Genesis 1:1 to 1: 4 New International Version
Leaving Eden
Look around you. Everything you see has been designed. The book, or tablet you’re holding. The table you’re sitting at. The chair you’re sitting on. The room, or the patio, or the cafe, you’re sitting in was conceived by someone before it was made just the way it is. Every little thing in it was designed – it’s purpose was considered. It’s function was contrived. It’s materials, colors and textures were composed. Was the tree you see through the window designed? With it’s majestic trunk, reaching branches, gnarly bark and chlorophyll green leaves? It may have been nature’s own at one time. But the hybrid species you see, where it was placed in the garden, and the garden it was placed in, was designed – a kaleidoscope of color or a drought tolerant homage to a planet heading into a warming trend. Your aging cat curled up at your feet? He was designed over generations of breeding, formed to be a domesticated companion, good for keeping mice under control and warm your lap on cold nights.
Listening to this podcast brought a smile to my face as I did my daily bike ride through Tilden Park this morning. It was a crisp, beautiful San Francisco spring day and I was feeling good because I just got the first section of my book on why design really matters off for review.
