Little did we know what our party with a purpose might become —  treasure hunts in research universities.  For example, a  combined Carnegie-Mellon and University of Pittsburgh Veritas Forum included a tour through the art museum and various science and engineering labs.  An engineering team demonstrated their very impressive remote-controlled reconnaissance helicopter.   

After hearing about their multi-million dollar grant, and seeing what it produced, a student asked, "Do you study and learn from flight in nature, such as bees and birds?”  One of the engineers said that they do try to learn from nature, but that there’s a lot more that they have to accomplish than pollinating a flower. 

Another student asked, “Could you replicate a hummingbird for example?"  The team looked at their project leader who resembled a deer caught in the headlights.  Slowly he answered, "No, a hummingbird is extremely complex." 

She then asked,  "How about a sparrow?"

The capable research team seemed left in a humble silence. 

Sometimes in such a moment of new-found humility, in a re-enchanted world, we would move from our questions of God, to God’s questions of us.  In Genesis he asks us, “Where are you hiding?  Who told you that you were naked?  Where is your brother?”  In Job 38 and 39 he asks us,  “Where were you when I laid the earth’s foundation?  Can you bring forth the constellations in their seasons?  Do you know the laws of the heavens?  Did you give the horse his strength?  Does the eagle soar at your command?  Have you seen the gates of the shadow of death?  Have you ever given orders to the morning?”   Jesus asks us in the gospels:  “Are you thirsty?  Do you want to be healed?  Have I been with you so long and still you don’t know me?  Who do you say I am?  Do you love me?”

Sometimes we are just stunned into silence and a new place of hearing and of seeing. Of cooperating and not competing.  Of re-connecting and belonging.  Of resting and perhaps even trusting, for “the mind that comes to rest is tended in ways it cannot intend” says poet-farmer Wendell Berry.  Slowly, we begin to care less about holding truth and more about loving the Truth who holds us.

Journal entry:
I’ve begun to realize that this is the journey I am on as well — a journey neither of blind faith, nor of total certainty, but of growing assurance.  This journey requires a continual conversation with the story’s Author and Completer.  His story challenges me more than I could have imagined, and it requires my submission and trust.  It is a story that I can understand only as I walk forward into its unfolding.

excerpt of "Finding God Beyond Harvard: The Quest for Veritas," chapter 7, permission IVP 2006.