I grew up studying apologetics. Really. Except we called it “Christian evidences” back then.
You see, my dad subscribed to countless magazines covering the creation/evolution controversy, carbon dating, archaeological discoveries, and all sorts of similar things. He read Apologetics Press and John Clayton (who agree about very little), Henry Morris, and many others. And I read all that stuff.
I grew up a “junior scientist” type. I had my mother wake me up early and hold me out of school so I could watch John Glenn’s three-orbit space flight. I watched every Gemini and every Apollo mission until they landed on the moon.
I loved science. My parents foolishly bought me a microscope in the Fourth Grade. I raised mold in my bedroom so I could make slides and look at the slimey stuff close up. Really. (It smelled like a brewery.) Continue reading