Finding the Kingdom of God at the Science Museum

Now after John was arrested, Jesus came into Galilee, preaching the gospel of God, and saying, “The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God is at hand; repent, and believe in the Gospel.” Mark 1:14-15.

I often take my five boys to the Science Museum of Minnesota, especially during the winter, when by February and March we have grown tired of shoveling snow, sledding, and ice skating. Because we do foster care, we get a big discount on a yearly pass. For 35 bucks, we get unlimited general admission and free tickets to the omni theater. My kids especially love the Collectors’ Corner, where they can bring in objects found in nature – like rocks, bones, and insects (but nothing stinky, and no bird parts) – earn points, and make trades for other cool stuff.

I enjoy the science museum.

But I’ve never sought – or expected to find – evidence of the Kingdom of God there.

If I’m honest, while roaming the museum, I often have an attitude of suspicion, or derision, or scorn. I look at the other beleaguered parents with their two spoiled kids and think of Thoreau’s “mass of men” living “lives of quiet desperation.” Or I put my nose up at the institution itself, trying to discern the “signs of the times” and the subtle or not so subtle ways it tries to undermine the Kingdom of God.

But sometimes the Kingdom of God finds you in unlikely places. As it did to me on a recent Saturday trip to the museum.

The Kingdom found me first in Christopher Marley’s exhibit Exquisite Creatures. Marley is an artist and naturalist who makes art out of reclaimed, preserved animal specimens (meaning the specimens died of natural causes) and preserved insects and bugs he’s collected all over the globe. Rembrandt, da Vinci, Michelangelo, Van Gogh? They do not compare to the glory of God on display in Marley’s exhibit.

Snakes, crabs, fish, parrots, urchins, octopuses, crabs, finches, butterflies, lizards, crystals, flowers, eggs, and many other creatures and natural objects are on beautiful display. Many from deep inside the jungle, or the nadirs of the oceans. Preserved and arranged in brilliant and breathtaking form. The sheer diversity and strangeness of God’s creatures is striking. The vibrant colors awe-inspiring.

But I was – surprisingly – most struck by the creepy crawly things. The bugs. Insects. Spiders. Beetles as big as my hand. Insects stranger than the weirdest Star Wars characters. Colored and patterned, some with enormous antennae or pinchers or legs, many having a glossy gem-like sheen. So many bugs. Some tiny. Some enormous. All … somehow … displaying God’s glory. The Kingdom that was, and is, and is to come.

There was one piece that was particularly inspiring. Composed primarily – or perhaps exclusively – of beetles. Hundreds of beetles. I’ve long been struck by the beauty of beetles here in Minnesota– ladybugs, stink bugs, Japanese beetles, tiger beetles, etc. – but these beetles are a tiny fraction of the order coleoptera, known to include some 350,000 different species. What excess! When Christ worked his first miracle, turning water into wine in Capernaum, he made nearly 1000 bottles of wine. Oh, what lavishness the goodness of God. And when God made beetles, he enjoyed Himself; generously displaying His creative love.

Exquisite Creatures notes that Marley draws inspiration from the term, “biophilia,” which is the, “instinctive sense of kinship with the rest of the living, breathing world.”

Kinship. The Kingdom. I don’t wish to descend into political/social/cultural commentary. But just to say: who of us in 21st century America can say that we live in “kinship with the rest of the living, breathing world?” More likely, we are separate and apart, living in cities, seeing the occasional pigeon, or squirrel, or mouse – certainly many dogs – but the rest of the vibrant, colorful, living, breathing world is mostly hidden from our view. When we do witness other creatures, chances are good they are in a stockyard or a cage.

I do not know Marley’s philosophic, political, or religious beliefs. I do not know whether he believes in God or the Kingdom of God (in his book in the museum’s gift shop, he does thank the “Designer”). But whether he knows it or not, is trying to or not, he helped illuminate God’s Kingdom to me. And for that I am grateful.

If Exquisite Creatures had been my only experience of the Kingdom that day at the science museum, I would have been content. But it wasn’t. I witnessed the Kingdom in an even more unlikely place: the omni theater.

I took my boys to see Born to be Wild about primatologist Dr. Biruté Galdikas and elephant expert Dame Daphne. Galdikas and Daphne have similar missions. Galdikas lives in the rainforests of Borneo, where she and her team rescue, raise, rehabilitate, and then release orphaned orangutans whose mothers have been killed by the logging industry. Daphne lives in the savannas of Kenya, where she and her team rescue, raise, rehabilitate, and then release orphaned elephants whose mothers have been poached.

A confession. I harbor a skepticism about animal lovers. Save the whales? How about we save the unborn babies. Get married and have a dog? Why not try raising a human instead.

But my hard heart was softened by Galdikas and Daphne and their teams’ radical generosity and love. They have devoted their lives to caring for traumatized animal orphans, nurturing a kingdom of love in the rehabilitation of these helpless creatures. They have revealed another way, a different path, a way of being in the world but not of it, of kinship with God’s creation.

And what struck me most was their tender human touch. Let me explain.

As I mentioned, my wife and I do foster care. We started about five years ago. When we began, we had three young biological sons. We have since adopted two boys from foster care, and have had eight or so other children come through our home. We had long wanted to do this. Felt called to do it. Thought we were pretty good people. Were people of love and compassion. Sure, it would be hard, but we were generous holy people!

I don’t think we were prepared for how hard it has been. And surprisingly, one of the most difficult aspects of caring for these children is their – at times – overwhelming need for human touch and affection.

Even though I’m a North Dakotan of German descent, I consider myself pretty affectionate. I loved holding and rocking and hugging and kissing my boys when they were babies. In fact, the first picture of me as a dad is a slightly awkward one of me in the hospital with my shirt off, holding my firstborn son skin to skin.

But the kids who have come through our home are traumatized. They are scared. Their world has been ripped out from under them. Many have been abused or neglected. Uncertainty rules their lives. In response to this, some kids can become fiercely independent; closing themselves off from human touch and affection. But others crave human touch, clinging to their caregivers, seeking safety and security and stability.

With six or seven young kids all vying for attention, for touch, wanting to be held or wrestled or simply pushing up against your leg, my wife and I soon felt like we were going crazy. We felt like a keg that has been tapped and drained. Those 1000 bottles of wine? Emptied. How hard it is to give compassion and affection and loving touch when you feel drained.

But Dr. Galdikas and Dame Daphne and their teams of locals blew me away with their compassion and affection and loving touch for the orangutans and elephants that they care for. Orphaned at the hands of humans, they are wary of their caregivers. Hostile at times. They are also animals. Sure, cute and playful. But also mischievous and hard to train (much like a human child). These orphaned animals require an enormous amount of care, attention, and physical touch. Galdikas and Daphne cannot provide all this care on their own.

They have turned to local caregivers to partner in the work. Each orphaned orangutan is “adopted” by a Bornean woman, who becomes the surrogate mother. For the next several years, she provides tireless care, washing, feeding, carrying, and simply touching her charge. So much physical touch. As in the wild, the orangutans spend a great deal of time being held by their “mother,” or draped around her neck, being carried piggyback style. And here I thought my kids needed a lot of touch.

Over in Kenya, a team of male “keepers” adopt the elephants, becoming their pack. They run with the young elephants, play with them, feed and bathe them, and provide constant care and supervision. As in the wild, these baby elephants need around-the-clock companionship. Each elephant has a keeper that even spends the night with them in their stall, sleeping next to them.

I was again reminded of my experience with foster care. One of the first children we cared for was a two-year-old boy who had prenatally been exposed to drugs and alcohol. The poor guy had a myriad of health and behavioral issues because of this exposure. At night, we’d put him in a pack and play with a bottle of milk, and he would toss and turn, crying out, rocking his head violently side to side. To get him to fall asleep, we would have to lay next to him on the floor, sometimes soothingly singing to him, other times just lying there, being present. How often I wanted to get up and go do something else. The lying there seemed a waste, an inconvenience.

But seeing these keepers care for elephants – they’re just elephants after all! – giving their lives; sacrificing; I was struck by what it means to be a Kingdom person. Not simply waiting with eager longing for the Second Coming and the full establishment of the Kingdom of God sometime in the future, but assisting the Lord in building, brick by brick, act of love by act of love, the Kingdom here and now.

One of the key questions that has marked my marriage is this: how do we know if the way things are, are the way things ought to be? Capitalism. Corporations. The nuclear family. International relations. Education. Law. Our political structures, work structures, financial structures, family structures, even our faith structures. Do they belong to the kingdom of man, or the Kingdom of God?

I fear I am too often complacent and comfortable resting peacefully in the kingdom of man.

But every now and again I’m chastened. Stirred. Awakened. Catch a glimmer of the Kingdom of God in my midst.

Sometimes this happens in likely places, like at my church, or hanging with my family, or going for a hike in the mountains.

But sometimes it happens in unlikely places. Like the Science Museum of Minnesota. And I am grateful to God whenever it does.