Someone recently made the statement that evolution is a religion.

As I think about it, I agree that the theory of evolution certainly carries all the signs of a false religion.  Its adherents repeat the same mantras over and over, and demand that everyone believe as they do.  Zoramite-like, they claim that there is no God.  Opponents are persecuted and mocked for their stupidity in believing that life had a Creator.

Evolutionists claim to have science on their side.  They do it loudly.  Whenever anyone thinks that he has to make his point loudly, you can mark it down that he’s a bully and that what he’s preaching is false.

Truth doesn’t have to shout to be heard.  Truth has evidences all around it that support the quiet statement of fact.  The truth of the matter is that all life has a Creator.  The theory of evolution is just that—a theory—and it is false.

I am holding a seashell in my hand.  It, and others like it, are a marvel.  It is a perfect, beautiful thing.  To think that it happened by chance taxes my faith and imagination much more than believing that God ordered things to be as they are.  Looking at the small end of this seashell, I notice that its growth spirals in a counter-clockwise direction.  Comparing it to a dozen other species, I find that they all do the same.  Is that evidence of some common ancestor, or is it evidence of an over-ruling hand that orders the universe?

How did the creature that made this seashell know how to do it?  How did it know to make this particular shape which is unique from all other species?  How did it make this intricate color pattern which is just like the color pattern of all others of its species, but so very unlike that of every other?  The creature lived inside this shell where it made its living quarters perfectly smooth and monochromatic.  I can imagine it taking joy in its existence, and in the beautiful thing that it was creating.

The outside of the shell is mottled with three different colors, and has two spiraled, concentric bands of brown that were laid down bit by bit without a mistake.  How did the creature know how to do that?  Why is its progeny able to do the very same thing?

It’s in the genes, the evolutionist would say.  But Who made the genes, I ask?  To believe that those millions of complicated, beyond-comprehension genes were made by chance taxes my credulity way more than a belief in a Master Creator.

I readily agree that changes happen in this pattern of things, and that God can, and does, use those changes in His plan.  But asking me to believe that a spark in a distant eon created an amoeba, and that that amoeba evolved over many more eons into this mind-boggling plethora of perfect beings is beyond all probability and possibility of chance.  Things just don’t work that way.

The priests of evolution are loudly dancing around their altars trying to call down fire from heaven through their much shouting, but their religion will fade away as surely as did the worship of Baal and of every other false god.