Most arguments between faith and science don’t start with hostility.
They start with a misunderstanding about what the other side is even trying to do.

When people say “The Bible and science contradict each other,” what they usually mean is that they’ve placed two very different kinds of writing into the same category and expected them to behave the same way.

That expectation is where the tension begins.

We Assume Everyone Is Asking the Same Question

Modern readers are conditioned to think that all explanations aim at the same goal: how something works.

If we want to know where lightning comes from, we expect voltage differentials and atmospheric conditions.
If we want to know how life began, we expect chemistry, timelines, and mechanisms.

So when we open an ancient text like Genesis, we subconsciously bring those same expectations with us.

And when the text doesn’t behave like a modern science book, we assume it’s wrong—or at least outdated.

But that assumption says more about us than it does about the text.

Ancient People Weren’t Trying to Do Science

Ancient writers were not attempting to answer the questions we’re obsessed with today.

They weren’t asking:

• What particles formed first?
• How long did this process take?
• What was the physical mechanism behind it?

Those are modern questions, born out of modern tools.

Ancient people were asking something else entirely:

• Who is in charge of this world?
• Is the universe ordered or chaotic?
• Does existence have intention behind it?
• Are humans accidents, or are they meant for something?

Those are meaning questions, not mechanism questions.

And meaning questions don’t compete with scientific explanations any more than a poem competes with a blueprint.

Function Came Before Explanation

One of the easiest ways to see this is in how ancient cultures understood sacred space.

In the Old Testament, the Israelites carry a tent—the Tabernacle—through the wilderness. When it’s assembled, the space is considered holy. When it’s packed up and moved, the holiness moves with it.

The dirt itself isn’t special.
The function is.

The space becomes sacred because of what happens there—not because of the molecules in the ground.

That should tell us something important about how ancient people thought.

They assigned meaning before mechanics.

We Still Think This Way (Even If We Pretend We Don’t)

Despite all our science and sophistication, we do the same thing today.

Some people won’t bring a drink into a church sanctuary—even when the building itself was once a gym or a warehouse.
The structure hasn’t changed. The assigned meaning has.

We understand this instinctively.

Which makes it strange that we forget it the moment we read ancient texts.

Genesis Is About Order, Not Chemistry

When Genesis describes creation unfolding in a structured sequence, it’s not offering a laboratory report.

It’s doing something much more fundamental.

It’s declaring that the universe is ordered, not random.
That existence isn’t the result of divine chaos, but divine intention.
That humanity isn’t an accident, but a participant in that order.

Those claims don’t tell us how stars form or when life emerged.

They tell us what kind of world we’re living in.

And that distinction matters.

The Real Conflict Isn’t Between Faith and Science

The real conflict is between expectations.

We expect ancient texts to answer modern questions.
We expect science to provide meaning.
We expect one framework to invalidate the other.

When those expectations aren’t met, we call it contradiction.

But contradiction only exists when two things are answering the same question differently.

Most of the time, faith and science aren’t doing that at all.

They’re standing side by side, answering different questions about the same reality.

Fog Doesn’t Mean the Houses Are Gone

When I was a kid, I’d go fishing early in the morning with my grandpa. Some days, fog would sit heavy on the water. You couldn’t see the houses on the other side of the lake.

That didn’t mean the houses weren’t there.

It meant our view was limited.

Science is exceptionally good at describing the fog—how it forms, how long it lasts, what conditions produce it.

Faith is concerned with something else entirely: what kind of place is this lake part of?
Is it safe? Ordered? Meaningful?

Those perspectives don’t cancel each other out.

They coexist.

Why the Argument Persists

The Bible and science keep “arguing” because we keep forcing them into a debate neither one signed up for.

We treat ancient meaning-making texts as failed science books.
We treat scientific discovery as a threat to purpose.

And then we wonder why everyone’s frustrated.

The conflict isn’t ancient.
It’s modern.

A Quieter Way Forward

Maybe the solution isn’t better arguments.

Maybe it’s better listening.

Listening to what ancient texts were actually trying to say.
Listening to what science is genuinely good at explaining.
Listening long enough to realize they may not be competing at all.

Sometimes the fog lifts on its own.

And when it does, you realize the houses were always there.