A CENTURY ago, Friedrich Nietzsche authoritatively proclaimed that God was dead. In a way, he was right; theism had finally been dethroned as the metaphysical foundation of Western society. But his bold obituary didn’t dance over the body as much as it urgently searched for a replacement. All men need a horizon, Nietzsche said, and God gave us one. Now that he’s gone, we had better find a new horizon, and quickly. Yet what is this new horizon? Is God still around, or did we really kill him?

Modernity’s answers have revolved around one man’s gargantuan contribution to modern science. Whether you see him as messiah or pariah, Charles Darwin is indisputably the most important scientist of the last 200 years, if only because he forged the sword that slew God himself. Darwinism gave secularists a castle to defend, and by consequence, a castle for theists to attack. Yet by the mid-20th century, it was painfully clear that the walls of Jericho had yet to fall, despite multiple uncoordinated assaults by William Jennings Bryan and other proto-fundamentalists. Secular, naturalistic humanism had become dominant in academia, and its metaphysical conclusions were seeping into the rest of Western society.

Since then, both trenches have solidified their “either-or” mentality at the foundation of their belief. The creationist side portends that evolution is a straw castle sustained by a massive secular humanist propaganda effort, and has no real scientific proof behind it. (The emphatic phrase “no scientific evidence” is thrown around in these circles with astonishing recklessness.) Creationists remain divided over which creation theory to defend (young-earth? old-earth? day age?), but they are united in the belief that evolution is secularism’s one ring of power, and if it is destroyed all the philosophical fortresses built by evolution will crumble.

Nobody likes to be called an idiot, but some Christians have taken the low road by name-calling back. John Morris and other creationists wildly blame evolution for “fascism, racism, Marxism, Social Darwinism, and Imperialism.” To believe in evolution is to essentially condose these monstrosities. What Morris doesn’t seem to realize is that the dogma preached by the high priests of secular humanism has little to do with the science they employ. Darwin never explained the origin of life, the beginning of the universe, the creation of matter, the moral law, or anything outside the realm of science. Modern secular humanism is a metaphysical interpretation based on Darwin’s theory, not an essential part of Darwinism. Evolution proves nothing about the existence (or non-existence) of God.

That creationists attack the science more fervently than the dogma is baffling. To borrow an analogy from Howard Van Till, a theistic evolutionist: when Copernicus suggested the earth revolved around the sun, pagan sun worship made a brief comeback in Europe. The religious establishment took this as further license to demonize the heliocentric theory, and support the silly, unscientific, and unbiblical idea that the earth is the center of the universe. But the real target should never have been heliocentrism, but instead heliotheism. By confusing these two, the church did great damage to Christianity’s reputation. I fear we are making the same mistake with evolution.

The persistence of what Van Till calls “episodic creationism”—any belief that creation occurred in seven actual “episodes”—threatens to further widen the gap between science and the Christian faith. Episodic creationism assumes that whatever interpretation of Genesis 1 makes most sense to modern readers is the right one. When scripture speaks of days, mornings, and evenings, it must mean days and weeks in the same way we experience them. It simplistically assumes God always creates as we do—paints a while, and stands back to look. By insisting on literal episodes of ex nihilo creation, it discounts the overwhelming scientific evidence that nature does most of the creating on its own.