Faith and Science are like a married couple – introduction

A work in progress

This small series of profiles describes people of faith who formed the foundations and current advances of modern science. The faiths considered are Christian, Muslim, Hindu and Jewish. They are not a complete set and each profile is not intended to be a full biography, just enough from sources to illustrate the main point. These have been read critically and some readings from other sources have been discarded because I feel they fail to represent the person’s true position. If you feel I have misrepresented anyone, please show me.

Why do this? I have two reasons. Firstly, these profiles show that the compatibility of faith and science has been demonstrated consistently and variously over ten centuries, so far. In the twenty first century , we have turned to hear Richard Dawkins and others shouting down this connection, but I hope to illustrate that their shouts are not faithful to the history of science. They use the conflicts surrounding the emergence of new paradigms to prove something that is historically unfair.

Secondly, it has often been observed that in the writing of recent history, the contribution of Christianity is simply omitted. This collection shows at a simple level that people of faith , in this collection especially Christians, have founded formed and sustained the scientific culture we so enjoy. To deny this is wilful blindness and obscures both the nature and history of science. I can’t imagine how they think that will strengthen science, which is everywhere in decline, but that too is my goal. Science also has helped religions to avoid superstition and cultural captivity. They argue like a married couple, healthy to be different and working on how to be the best together. They argue about many different things and no one of them is a deal breaker.

Big picture comment: Every new paradigm of knowledge has seemed crazy at first, was rejected by the keepers of the current order, BOTH the church and science establishments, who went through various machinations to quieten the new idea. (Others welcome novelty just because it is novel, somewhat incredulously.) The spontaneous rejection of a new paradigm applies to new moves in dancing, new beats in music, new fashion and new ideas. It is only human.

Please note, this is not a philosophy text, teasing out all the separate questions – what is knowledge? what counts as evidence? does God exist?, arguments from design and from being? can miracles occur? what is consciousness? are healings helped by prayer ? and so on. Nor does it seek to define the relationship between science and faith in philosophical terms. Those are good questions but my hope is to frame those debates more personally, so that the religious do not think they are always right, and so that that scientists do not think that mid-twentieth century philosophies of Reason are the only kind of knowledge. For instance, Bertrand Russell said:Religion is something left over from the infancy of our intelligence, it will fade away as we adopt reason and science as our guidelines” has been shown to be over-optimistic about his brand of ‘reason and science’. His contemporary Max Born, a quantum physicist, said:” Those who say that study of science makes a man an atheist must be rather silly.” Both those voices sound very confident, yet very opposite conclusions – how did we get to this impasse?

At university and in high schools I detect too often an unspoken assumption that scientists must ordinarily be atheists. Some scientists will be quoted with a comment on that. This series is a semi-biographical exercise, listing historical evidence that people have always thought about all this and faith-ful scientists are more common than some would have us believe. We just seem to lack a language for the conversation these days.

May I respectfully ask you to read these profiles carefully.

For instance, we can begin with unmasking this assumption: science is not one voice, and nor is religion. Arguments go on within religion, and within science and between those two plural systems of thinking. It has never been a simple question of ‘faith versus science’. Yet at their best both spheres subscribe to the pursuit of truth, the inspiration from wonder and the driver of curiosity, the knowability of things, the assumption of causality, the observer as a valid point of view, the importance of ethical integrity and the application of their benefit to others’ lives.

A second assumption we must be wary of is this – in history, people’s mindsets were not like today. That does not make us better than them and a radical humility and careful listening to voices is required. In time, we will be shown that we are just as wrong about some things that we are currently convinced of as they were about some of theirs. Science, theology , knowledge are all the same exciting enterprise. For instance, the mainstream church’s rejection of Galileo and Darwin was not because of their adherence to scripture but because churches were wedded to another philosophy of knowledge and their cultural cage was being shaken.

Related to the second assumption is that Christianity has so shaped western culture and science in particular, that its contributions are routinely taken for granted as the inevitable norm or the fruit of reason. A brief glance at non-Christian civilizations will find scientists who are just as brilliant and rational but science as an enterprise there has been reserved for the rich and powerful. Though that is not the subject of this book, let us simply note in passing that a great many of the core values of humanity and education that are the Western legacy arose from Christian philosophies and beliefs. The same can be said in education, law, human rights, arts, architecture, medicine, and more. It is hard to see what has become obvious.

This series cover the periods before and after Darwin. However there have been several paradigm changes of that order of magnitude, so I do not want focus on Darwinism as a single breakpoint.

We will see that the so called ‘Dark Ages’ were not all that dark. Way back in medieval times. in the West and the East, the methods we now call science was stirring. Some of those writers must have been brilliant. Astronomy, maths and medicine were strong in the medieval Islamic world, with significant interchange happening between east and west, between Muslim, Jews and Christians.

We will see that public disputes and personal doubts just keep on coming and going. Today, as modern science grows a huge body of knowledge and as it becomes more and more specialized, fewer people feel able to speak for the intersection of their branch of science with the other branches of knowledge, still less about the points of intersection between faith and science. But there are some.

A young admirer asked Darwin about his religious views (the original inquiry is lost), and the great naturalist answered: "It is impossible to answer your question briefly; and I am not sure that I could do so, even if I wrote at some length. But I may say that the impossibility of conceiving that this grand and wondrous universe, with our conscious selves, arose through chance, seems to me the chief argument for the existence of God; but whether this is an argument of real value, I have never been able to decide." See more about Charles Darwin in the entry on Polkinghorne.

Carl Sagan (1934-1996) , science writer

"Science is not only compatible with spirituality; it is a profound source of spirituality. When we recognize our place in an immensity of light-years and in the passage of ages, when we grasp the intricacy, beauty, and subtlety of life, then that soaring feeling, that sense of elation and humility combined, is surely spiritual…The notion that science and spirituality are somehow mutually exclusive does a disservice to both."

Wernher Von Braun (1912-1977) -German-American rocket scientist

"I find it as difficult to understand a scientist who does not acknowledge the presence of a superior rationality behind the existence of the universe as it is to comprehend a theologian who would deny the advances of science."

Lastly, this question really matters. There are ‘real world-real people’ outcomes to this set of questions as captured in this quote from the great man who was an acute observer and activist but not a scientist himself:

· Science investigates religion interprets. Science gives man knowledge which is power religion gives man wisdom which is control.
Martin Luther King, Jr.

Yes, God is hidden. What if that’s a good thing?

Yes, God is hidden. What if that’s a good thing?


Why doesn’t God simply make his existence obvious? Theological blogger Isso shares his thoughts on ‘the hiddenness of God’ and highlights some of the ways God does reveal himself.

In a recent livestream Q&A episode of Unbelievable? philosopher William Lane Craig discussed the hiddenness of God. It’s a question that often comes up in forums like this. If God exists, he’s certainly created a majestically intricate world, full of order and beauty. Why then has he promptly retired from sight and is now nowhere to be seen, a skeptic may dutifully ask?

The problem of God’s hiddenness and refusal to manifest himself is obviously problematic for Christians. Without question, God would certainly make our lives all easier if he revealed himself every now and then. So why doesn’t he?

Well, perhaps we take his hiddenness for granted and he may in fact manifest himself in varied and unusual ways, through both our conscience and affective lives. However, even if God remains hidden, maybe there are also good reasons for this and perhaps his hiddenness is a necessary condition for many things which we take for granted, such as hope, faith and love.

Revealed in flesh

Christians will try to obviate God’s hiddenness by saying that he took the form of flesh in the person of Christ and did in fact reveal himself to us. Catholic and Orthodox Christians may argue that he continues to manifest himself through the Eucharist, and we partake in this by eating his Body and drinking his Blood during Mass.

Christian scholars continue to explore other lines of enquiry and will often point to the case for the resurrection. For instance, why did the apostles preach the same gospel and die for it if they knew it was a lie? This hasn’t allayed modern skepticism though, with many countering that the manuscripts can’t be authenticated to a standard which satisfies them.

But, what if the value of the gospel is instantiated by its own weight, rather than through any critical tool we can use today? I feel these words best encapsulate such an idea:

“I believe in Christ like I believe in the sun. Not because I can see it, but by it, I can see everything else.” CS Lewis Is Theology Poetry?

For instance, the gospel transforms both lives and communities through its redemptive theology, seemingly being able to speak through the soul – something very difficult for a historical critical method to encapsulate in a meaningful manner. A Christian may also argue that the gospel provides a framework for life which is just as relevant today as it was in its Messianic context in first century Palestine:

“Do not be anxious about tomorrow, for tomorrow will be anxious for itself. Let the day’s own trouble be sufficient for the day.” (Matthew 6:34)

Revealed in spirit

Western Christianity has also developed a spiritual tradition, whereby we can discern God’s will within our affective lives. Ignatius of Loyola said that God’s Spirit reveals itself internally within us, also known as the ‘discernment of spirits’. Ignatius’ first rule spells out that when a person is going from vice to vice, “the good Spirit uses the opposite method, pricking them and biting their consciences through the process of reason”. St Paul argues something similar when discussing the eternal law of God and says Gentiles “show that the work of the law is written on their hearts, while their conscience also bears witness, and their conflicting thoughts accuse or even excuse them” (Romans 2:15).

St John Henry Newman describes conscience as “a connecting principle between the creature and his Creator”. Newman suggest that God reveals himself to us through our conscience, so while God may seem externally hidden, he speaks to us internally. So, perhaps those feelings of disappointment, sadness, regret and shame when we fail to live the life we feel we should are God’s Spirit working within us. However, it also shouldn’t be taken for granted that we can blunt our consciences very easily and silence this natural process of reason. Ultimately, it’s up to us whether we listen to our affective life or ignore the movement of the Spirit.

Revealed in beauty

If speaking in terms of our affective lives is too opaque for readers to resonate with, perhaps we can instead say that God manifests himself through beauty and an overarching feeling of transcendence in the world. Whether these are distorted approximations of reality or not, they still feel ‘real’ and perhaps this is enough to go on.

A rainbow continues to engender a feeling of beauty for most, despite being reducible to how light reflects, refracts and disperses through water. It seems that the beauty of a ‘thing’ transcends the reduction to the sum of its parts.

Another interesting social observation is that despite Western society turning its back on organised forms of religion, Western culture still retains a strong quasi-spiritual impulse. One only needs to look at the growing practice of mindfulness and yoga in both corporate and personal spheres. Instead of seeing the death of spirituality, the West seems to have traded its own traditions for Eastern traditions.

Hidden for a purpose

God’s hiddenness is an essential part of Christian theology and allows the space for there to be faith and therefore love. As Christians, we may be tempted to ask why believing in Christ requires so much faith. Why can’t we approach our belief in him in the same abstract way we deal with mathematics or physics? Well, perhaps God has deliberately created the circumstances where meaningful belief in him requires faith, without evidential certainty.

We may be able to find a clue in the Gospel of John when, after Christ’s resurrection, a skeptical Thomas demands to see the wounds in Christ’s hands as proof that it really is him. Christ acquiesces and reveals both himself and his wounds to Thomas, but then says to him:

“Have you believed because you have seen me? Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed.” (John 20:29).

So, why does Jesus place such a demanding and counter-intuitive standard on us to have faith in what we have neither seen nor touched? Perhaps God has created this space for faith in Him because it also provides the necessary conditions for meaningful relationships with our fellow human beings.

Hidden for relationship

If you were able to see into the future and know for certain whether your spouse would be a faithful partner, would you do it? I could imagine that for many, being able to remove this element of faith that comes with a relationship would change how you feel about and see your spouse, certainly in a negative way. The inverse would probably also apply, whereby your partner feels they are not trusted as a faithful partner, and this could rupture the relationship. It may perhaps be the case that a necessary ingredient of love is that it requires a leap of faith between partners and removal of this faith from the equation constrains our ability to love and be loved.

The basis of love among family may also require this element of faith. Take a young child who depends on their mother. What makes this relationship meaningful is the sense of dependence by one party and responsibility by the other. This requires faith that one party will discharge their obligations to the dependant. The space for faith may again be the basis for love to express itself here. Perhaps this is why when Jesus is questioned on the greatest commandment, he affirms that you “shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind”. There is a sense with this passage that your relationship with God serves as the bedrock for your relationships with others. So, it may be that God’s hiddenness is his greatest gift to us.

Hidden for love

Paul too seemed to understand that faith is a necessary element which allows for love to manifest. In his letter to the Corinthians, in almost Platonist language, he says:

“Now we see but a dim reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known. And now these three remain: faith, hope and love; but the greatest of these is love.” (1 Corinthians 13:12)

Paul seems to be suggesting two things here. Firstly, that faith is premised on seeing and knowing something less than certain to our senses. And secondly, that love is the greatest of these three, but is also dependent on both hope and faith. Hopefully we’re able to better see the link between faith and love. And we understand that Christ’s demand for faith does two things – it strengthens our love for him because “we walk by faith, not by sight”, requiring us to put our trust in him entirely, akin to how a child places their faith entirely in a parent (2 Corinthians 5:7). And it also gives us the space and conditions to know the love of others through the faith which works to bind that love. Knowing that God is hidden but still present allows us to know and love him in a deeper sense, and so we can recall his words:

“Lo, I am with you always, even to the end of the age.” (Matthew 28:20)


Isso is a Christian writer with an interest in Western and Eastern Christianity. You can read more from him at You can read more about the author here.

Atheism Is Inconsistent with the Scientific Method, Prizewinning Physicist Says

Atheism Is Inconsistent with the Scientific Method, Prizewinning Physicist Says

In conversation, the 2019 Templeton Prize winner does not pull punches on the limits of science, the value of humility and the irrationality of nonbelief

· By Lee Billings on March 20, 2019

Theoretical physicist Marcelo Gleiser, recipient of the 2019 Templeton Prize. Credit: Eli Burakian Dartmouth College

Marcelo Gleiser, a 60-year-old Brazil-born theoretical physicist at Dartmouth College and prolific science popularizer, has won this year’s Templeton Prize. Valued at just under $1.5 million, the award from the John Templeton Foundation annually recognizes an individual “who has made an exceptional contribution to affirming life’s spiritual dimension.” Its past recipients include scientific luminaries such as Sir Martin Rees and Freeman Dyson, as well as religious or political leaders such as Mother Teresa, Desmond Tutu and the Dalai Lama.

Across his 35-year scientific career, Gleiser’s research has covered a wide breadth of topics, ranging from the properties of the early universe to the behavior of fundamental particles and the origins of life. But in awarding him its most prestigious honor, the Templeton Foundation chiefly cited his status as a leading public intellectual revealing “the historical, philosophical and cultural links between science, the humanities and spirituality.” He is also the first Latin American to receive the prize.

Scientific American spoke with Gleiser about the award, how he plans to advance his message of consilience, the need for humility in science, why humans are special, and the fundamental source of his curiosity as a physicist.

[An edited transcript of the interview follows.]

Scientific American: First off, congratulations! How did you feel when you heard the news?

Marcelo Gleiser: It was quite a shocker. I feel tremendously honored, very humbled and kind of nervous. It’s a cocktail of emotions, to be honest. I put a lot of weight on the fact that I’m the first Latin American to get this. That, to me anyway, is important—and I’m feeling the weight on my shoulders now. I have my message, you know. The question now is how to get it across as efficiently and clearly as I can, now that I have a much bigger platform to do that from.

You’ve written and spoken eloquently about nature of reality and consciousness, the genesis of life, the possibility of life beyond Earth, the origin and fate of the universe, and more. How do all those disparate topics synergize into one, cohesive message for you?

To me, science is one way of connecting with the mystery of existence. And if you think of it that way, the mystery of existence is something that we have wondered about ever since people began asking questions about who we are and where we come from. So while those questions are now part of scientific research, they are much, much older than science. I’m not talking about the science of materials, or high-temperature superconductivity, which is awesome and super important, but that’s not the kind of science I’m doing. I’m talking about science as part of a much grander and older sort of questioning about who we are in the big picture of the universe. To me, as a theoretical physicist and also someone who spends time out in the mountains, this sort of questioning offers a deeply spiritual connection with the world, through my mind and through my body. Einstein would have said the same thing, I think, with his cosmic religious feeling.

Right. So which aspect of your work do you think is most relevant to the Templeton Foundation’s spiritual aims?

Probably my belief in humility. I believe we should take a much humbler approach to knowledge, in the sense that if you look carefully at the way science works, you’ll see that yes, it is wonderful — magnificent! — but it has limits. And we have to understand and respect those limits. And by doing that, by understanding how science advances, science really becomes a deeply spiritual conversation with the mysterious, about all the things we don’t know. So that’s one answer to your question. And that has nothing to do with organized religion, obviously, but it does inform my position against atheism. I consider myself an agnostic.

Why are you against atheism?

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I honestly think atheism is inconsistent with the scientific method. What I mean by that is, what is atheism? It’s a statement, a categorical statement that expresses belief in nonbelief. “I don’t believe even though I have no evidence for or against, simply I don’t believe.” Period. It’s a declaration. But in science we don’t really do declarations. We say, “Okay, you can have a hypothesis, you have to have some evidence against or for that.” And so an agnostic would say, look, I have no evidence for God or any kind of god (What god, first of all? The Maori gods, or the Jewish or Christian or Muslim God? Which god is that?) But on the other hand, an agnostic would acknowledge no right to make a final statement about something he or she doesn’t know about. “The absence of evidence is not evidence of absence,” and all that. This positions me very much against all of the “New Atheist” guys—even though I want my message to be respectful of people’s beliefs and reasoning, which might be community-based, or dignity-based, and so on. And I think obviously the Templeton Foundation likes all of this, because this is part of an emerging conversation. It’s not just me; it’s also my colleague the astrophysicist Adam Frank, and a bunch of others, talking more and more about the relation between science and spirituality.

So, a message of humility, open-mindedness and tolerance. Other than in discussions of God, where else do you see the most urgent need for this ethos?

You know, I’m a “Rare Earth” kind of guy. I think our situation may be rather special, on a planetary or even galactic scale. So when people talk about Copernicus and Copernicanism—the ‘principle of mediocrity’ that states we should expect to be average and typical, I say, “You know what? It’s time to get beyond that.” When you look out there at the other planets (and the exoplanets that we can make some sense of), when you look at the history of life on Earth, you will realize this place called Earth is absolutely amazing. And maybe, yes, there are others out there, possibly—who knows, we certainly expect so—but right now what we know is that we have this world, and we are these amazing molecular machines capable of self-awareness, and all that makes us very special indeed. And we know for a fact that there will be no other humans in the universe; there may be some humanoids somewhere out there, but we are unique products of our single, small planet’s long history.

The point is, to understand modern science within this framework is to put humanity back into kind of a moral center of the universe, in which we have the moral duty to preserve this planet and its life with everything that we’ve got, because we understand how rare this whole game is and that for all practical purposes we are alone. For now, anyways. We have to do this! This is a message that I hope will resonate with lots of people, because to me what we really need right now in this increasingly divisive world is a new unifying myth. I mean “myth” as a story that defines a culture. So, what is the myth that will define the culture of the 21st century? It has to be a myth of our species, not about any particular belief system or political party. How can we possibly do that? Well, we can do that using astronomy, using what we have learned from other worlds, to position ourselves and say, “Look, folks, this is not about tribal allegiance, this is about us as a species on a very specific planet that will go on with us—or without us.” I think you know this message well.

I do. But let me play devil’s advocate for a moment, only because earlier you referred to the value of humility in science. Some would say now is not the time to be humble, given the rising tide of active, open hostility to science and objectivity around the globe. How would you respond to that?

This is of course something people have already told me: “Are you really sure you want to be saying these things?” And my answer is yes, absolutely. There is a difference between “science” and what we can call “scientism,” which is the notion that science can solve all problems. To a large extent, it is not science but rather how humanity has used science that has put us in our present difficulties. Because most people, in general, have no awareness of what science can and cannot do. So they misuse it, and they do not think about science in a more pluralistic way. So, okay, you’re going to develop a self-driving car? Good! But how will that car handle hard choices, like whether to prioritize the lives of its occupants or the lives of pedestrian bystanders? Is it going to just be the technologist from Google who decides? Let us hope not! You have to talk to philosophers, you have to talk to ethicists. And to not understand that, to say that science has all the answers, to me is just nonsense. We cannot presume that we are going to solve all the problems of the world using a strict scientific approach. It will not be the case, and it hasn’t ever been the case, because the world is too complex, and science has methodological powers as well as methodological limitations.

And so, what do I say? I say be honest. There is a quote from the physicist Frank Oppenheimer that fits here: “The worst thing a son of a bitch can do is turn you into a son of a bitch.” Which is profane but brilliant. I’m not going to lie about what science can and cannot do because politicians are misusing science and trying to politicize the scientific discourse. I’m going to be honest about the powers of science so that people can actually believe me for my honesty and transparency. If you don’t want to be honest and transparent, you’re just going to become a liar like everybody else. Which is why I get upset by misstatements, like when you have scientists—Stephen Hawking and Lawrence Krauss among them—claiming we have solved the problem of the origin of the universe, or that string theory is correct and that the final “theory of everything” is at hand. Such statements are bogus. So, I feel as if I am a guardian for the integrity of science right now; someone you can trust because this person is open and honest enough to admit that the scientific enterprise has limitations—which doesn’t mean it’s weak!

You mentioned string theory, and your skepticism about the notion of a final “theory of everything.” Where does that skepticism come from?

It is impossible for science to obtain a true theory of everything. And the reason for that is epistemological. Basically, the way we acquire information about the world is through measurement. It’s through instruments, right? And because of that, our measurements and instruments are always going to tell us a lot of stuff, but they are going to leave stuff out. And we cannot possibly ever think that we could have a theory of everything, because we cannot ever think that we know everything that there is to know about the universe. This relates to a metaphor I developed that I used as the title of a book, The Island of Knowledge. Knowledge advances, yes? But it’s surrounded by this ocean of the unknown. The paradox of knowledge is that as it expands and the boundary between the known and the unknown changes, you inevitably start to ask questions that you couldn’t even ask before.

I don’t want to discourage people from looking for unified explanations of nature because yes, we need that. A lot of physics is based on this drive to simplify and bring things together. But on the other hand, it is the blank statement that there could ever be a theory of everything that I think is fundamentally wrong from a philosophical perspective. This whole notion of finality and final ideas is, to me, just an attempt to turn science into a religious system, which is something I disagree with profoundly. So then how do you go ahead and justify doing research if you don’t think you can get to the final answer? Well, because research is not about the final answer, it’s about the process of discovery. It’s what you find along the way that matters, and it is curiosity that moves the human spirit forward.

Speaking of curiosity… You once wrote, “Scientists, in a sense, are people who keep curiosity burning, trying to find answers to some of the questions they asked as children.” As a child, was there a formative question you asked, or an experience you had, that made you into the scientist you are today? Are you still trying to answer it?

I’m still completely fascinated with how much science can tell about the origin and evolution of the universe. Modern cosmology and astrobiology have most of the questions I look for—the idea of the transition from nonlife, to life, to me, is absolutely fascinating. But to be honest with you, the formative experience was that I lost my mom. I was six years old, and that loss was absolutely devastating. It put me in contact with the notion of time from a very early age. And obviously religion was the thing that came immediately, because I’m Jewish, but I became very disillusioned with the Old Testament when I was a teenager, and then I found Einstein. That was when I realized, you can actually ask questions about the nature of time and space and nature itself using science. That just blew me away. And so I think it was a very early sense of loss that made me curious about existence. And if you are curious about existence, physics becomes a wonderful portal, because it brings you close to the nature of the fundamental questions: space, time, origins. And I’ve been happy ever since.

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Lee Billings


Lee Billings is a senior editor for space and physics at Scientific American.

Credit: Nick Higgins

How many Australian biology students believe God has a role in evolution?

First posted 22 August 2018 at 9:15 am

A long-term study of Australian biology students reveals how attitudes towards creationism and evolution have shifted.

The survey, published today in the journal Evolution: Education and Outreach, was started 32 years ago by Mike Archer at the University of New South Wales.

"I wanted to know what percentage of our incoming university students held a [creationist] view, which in effect meant we were wasting our time trying to teach them about the science of evolution," Professor Archer said.

The Resurrection – ancient history?

Darrell Bock is Research Professor of New Testament Studies at Dallas Theological Seminary. He is an expert in the historical Jesus and issues surrounding the authenticity and reliability of the New Testament documents. He is the author of more than twenty books and commentaries, including Breaking the Da Vinci Code, which was a New York Times Best Seller.

In this interview he talks about some of the tests historians apply to ancient documents to assess their reliability, and then holds the stories about Jesus’ resurrection up to that standard.

Rev Dr Ian Robinson

Alan Walker Lecturer in Mission Evangelism and Leadership at

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