Scientists have encoded the entire human genome into a ‘5D memory crystal.’ In the event of extinction, this could be discovered by some conscious entity and bring our species back to life. The disk is as durable as quartz and can last for billions of years. Researchers have created a special “5D memory crystal” that […] The post Scientists Created a ‘5D Memory Crystal’ & Encoded the Entire Human Genome Into It that can Last for Billions of Years appeared first on How and Why's.

In his book Antifragile, author Nassim Nicholas Taleb observes that some objects are naturally fragile, like glass or fine china, and some are naturally resilient, like rubber or Tupperware. But there’s another category he labels “antifragile.” Just as the immune system becomes stronger when exposed to the normal circulation of viruses and bacteria, so some objects become better under stress. What Taleb describes is similar to what Paul writes about in Romans 5: “We rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope” (vv. 3–4). Suffering is the stress, and a persevering character full of hope is a description of Spirit-filled antifragility. If you’re anything like me, you deeply sense your need for such a virtue, particularly today. I minister to people in New York, and the city landscape is wonderful and full of opportunities, but it’s also complex, pressurized, and prone to chewing people up and spitting them out. And this is to say nothing of all the universal stresses and strains of life, relationships, jobs, the upcoming election cycle, and (for me) ministry. How can we ensure the challenges we face strengthen us and don’t hollow us out? The key, according to Taleb, is “repeated positive engagement with stressors and challenges to learn, adapt, and survive” (emphasis mine). In Romans 5, Paul outlines how the gospel gives us unique security as we reflect on our past, present, and future. This reframes our challenges positively so the stress and suffering will produce in us hopeful, antifragile perseverance. Our Past: We Have Peace with God How do you get past your past? I’m old enough to remember vinyl records, and it’s good to see they’ve made a comeback. Sometimes an old record would get scratched. The scratch would make the record jump, and then it would fail to progress through the song; instead, it would keep skipping and repeating that section. Similarly, things in our past can be like scratches on which our memories get stuck; we feel like we can’t move on. It may be something done to us, a wound as yet unhealed. Or it may be a hurt we’ve inflicted on another. Most of us have a complex mix of the two because we’re both sinners and sinned against. The gospel gives us unique security as we reflect on our past, present, and future. Paul reminds us, “Since we have been justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ” (Rom. 5:1). God’s peace doesn’t trivialize sin. After all, sin is so serious that Jesus had to die for it. But it does give us peace in the face of sin. Preaching at Westminster Chapel in London, Martyn Lloyd-Jones reportedly said that at the cross, “our sins have been thrown away into the sea of God’s forgetfulness.” When we grasp this truth, God’s peace in Christ fills in the scratch (whether it’s our sins we confess to God or a hurt we’re struggling to forgive) so we need not get stuck on the past. Our Present: We Stand in Grace In case we need to be reminded, Jesus graciously tells us, “In this world you will have trouble” (John 16:33, NIV). How do we face such troubles and not become overwhelmed? By knowing we’re justified in Christ. When the Father looks at those who trust in him, he sees us not only as forgiven but also as clothed in Christ’s righteousness. He loves us in the same way he loves his perfect Son. This is the “grace in which we stand” (Rom. 5:2). Notice we “stand” in this reality; it’s a settled and unchanging state of God’s unmerited favor toward us. When we feel hard-pressed, God’s grace fills us up and stops us from being crushed. When we’re perplexed by the tangled maze of life, his grace stops us from despairing. When we’re wronged, it gives us the emotional resources to forgive. When we’re criticized, it enables us to turn away from defensiveness, filter through the emotion, find the kernel of truth in what’s said, and (where appropriate) apologize. Our Future: We Boast in God’s Glory The word “boast” has an almost exclusively negative connotation for us, but Paul uses it positively. Think of a parent saying to a child, “I’m proud of you. Well done!” That’s how Paul uses the word in Romans 5:2: “We boast in the hope of the glory of God” (NIV). That’s the hopeful posture we can have toward the future. God’s peace doesn’t trivialize sin. After all, sin is so serious that Jesus had to die for it. It’s easy to be anxious about the future, particularly in a culture where hope is in short supply. But let the gospel argue with your anxieties as Paul does in verses 6–10. If you trust in Christ, God has given you what’s most precious to him, even his only Son—and this while you were his enemy. How much more now, as a beloved child, will God give you anything and everything for your good. You can have complete confidence that no matter what the future holds, it’ll be for your blessing. Hopeful in Suffering For those justified in Christ, our past is marked by peace, our present by grace, and our future by hope. What perfect security we enjoy. Nothing past, present, or future can work against us. No stress or challenge is outside God’s sovereign grace. To the extent we grasp this and it starts to shape us, we’ll become antifragile: persevering and hope-filled. Stressors and suffering will come our way, that much is sure, but as William Cowper’s great hymn “God Moves In a Mysterious Way” puts it, His purposes will ripen fast, unfolding every hour; the bud may have a bitter taste, but sweet will be the flower.

I’m blessed to know one of Time magazine’s top 50 living thinkers. He has been my personal mentor for more than 20 years. He’s a die-hard Chiefs fan. He has been a sage through seasons of deep doubt and a friend through bouts of deep anxiety. His name is J. P. Moreland, and he thinks I’m an idiot. How do I know he thinks I’m an idiot? Because he regularly reminds me. Our office doors at Biola University’s Talbot School of Theology are about a first down apart, and we cross paths often. Before you conclude that J. P. belongs on Time magazine’s Top 50 Living Insensitive Jerks list, let me tell you why his regular reminders are a blessing. It’s what G. K. Chesterton sought when he said, “Angels can fly because they can take themselves lightly . . . [but] Satan fell by the force of gravity.” If we want to be better theologians, we must take ourselves less seriously to take God more seriously. When it comes to our knowledge of God, we need to realize we’re all idiots. Realizing Our Idiocy A good definition of a theologian, then, may be one who realizes what a total idiot he or she is about the deepest things of God yet who seeks to mitigate that idiocy as much as possible by bringing it often to the sacred Scriptures. (Perhaps theology conferences should be called idiot conventions.) If we want to be better theologians, we must take ourselves less seriously to take God more seriously. Charles Spurgeon made the point in a sermon when he was just 20 years old: “Theology,” Spurgeon argues, “is a subject so vast, that all our thoughts are lost in its immensity; so deep, that our pride is drowned in its infinity. . . . No subject of contemplation will tend more to humble the mind, than thoughts of God.” There’s something unique about the study of God on account of the sheer magnitude and infinity of its Subject. In an age that brazenly markets pride as a virtue, we need more men and women of God whose pride has been pulverized by pondering a Being infinitely more interesting, good, powerful, just, wise, and glorious than we are. We need the reminder of Charles Octavius Boothe that theologians “should approach the solemn task of studying God with feelings of humility and awe. God is fond of the lowly but hides himself from the proud and self-sufficient man.” And we should heed the advice of a self-described fool (1 Cor. 4:10) who was “content with weaknesses [and] insults (2 Cor. 12:10)—the theologian and apostle Paul, who said, “Never be wise in your own sight” (Rom. 12:16). Good theologians have the humility to acknowledge that on this side of eternity, we see “in a mirror dimly” (1 Cor. 13:12). If God is what Herman Bavinck called “an ocean of essence, unbounded and immeasurable,” then the theologian knows he or she only offers mere drops from that infinite ocean—precious, soul-hydrating, life-giving drops, but drops nonetheless. I offer three tips for realizing our idiocy so we may be better theologians. 1. Cultivate a circle of friends who know you, warts and all. Have those around you who can cut through your self-seriousness by being lovingly humorous. Note the adjective “lovingly.” I’m not promoting the kind of unbiblical crude joking and cut-downs anchored more in nihilism and clashing egos than in joyously taking God more seriously than ourselves. J. P. shares an anecdote of telling a friend “Great job!” after a sermon. His friend replied ever so piously, “Oh, it was all God,” to which J. P. replied, “If it was all God, it would have been a lot better than that!” 2. Give up trying to be the next Luther, Spurgeon, Edwards, Schaeffer, or [insert a favorite theologian here]. Great theologians never set out to be the next big name. They set out to make God’s name big. Pursue the true first thing—God’s glory—and you might, but most likely won’t, find some kind of glory in the eyes of men. Pursue self-glory first and you’re guaranteed to miss God’s glory and find your own turned to dust. In a celebrity-driven culture, be radically countercultural and take any craving for celebrity status (what old Bibles called “vainglory”) directly to the cross. 3. Preach the anti-pride gospel to yourself every day. Isaiah compared his “righteous deeds” to idim bagad—Hebrew for used menstruation rags (Isa. 64:6). Paul described the righteousness of his own as skybala—Greek for trash, waste, and feces (Phil. 3:8). Luther described his religiosity as reiffe dreck—German for ripe manure. Great theologians never set out to be the next big name. They set out to make God’s name big. Yet Isaiah looked forward to God’s promise of the Suffering Servant, “pierced for our transgressions” and “crushed for our iniquities” (Isa. 53:5). Paul looked to God who by sending Jesus became both “just and the justifier” (Rom. 3:26). Luther came to “behold God in faith . . . [and] look upon his fatherly, friendly heart in which there is no anger nor ungraciousness.” Good theologians, aware of their idiocy, don’t sing, “My hope is built on my spiritual or intellectual performance, my capacity to parse Greek verbs, or dance exegetical circles around the cultists on my doorstep.” With the old hymn, may we sing, “My hope is built on nothing less than Jesus’ blood and righteousness.”

Sept. 21, 2024: Our weekly roundup of the latest science in the news, as well as a few fascinating articles to keep you entertained over the weekend.

The Detroit-based Stroh Brewery Company was once the third-largest brewery in America and a household name, particularly in the Midwest, until its dissolution in 2000. Advertisement An all-too-common…

[unable to retrieve full-text content]The following article, Electricity Prices Up 26 Percent Since Beginning Of 2021. As Obama Warned In 2008, It’s On Purpose, And Comrade Kamala Harris Supports It,…

As a spy thriller fan, I love reading about the clever gadgets the good guys use to vanquish the bad guys, which is why I've been fascinated by the story of Hezbollah's deadly exploding pagers. How did…