Biological Redemption
Sensitivity, Not Perfection is The Aim
By Elizabeth Jeffries
I discovered my life’s calling at the seasoned age of 4. My personal epiphany came during during preschool, in my phase of incessant inquiry. When I asked my Mom a string of questions about the stars in the sky, she explained to me that stars are very far-away suns, just like our sun. It sounded like a load of mystical nonsense. Then she told me that scientists are the all-knowing superheroes who explore outer space. My mind was made up. When I would grow up, I would be a scientist.
I soon learned that telescopes are not the only tools for charting new frontiers, but our bodies contain vast unexplored microscopic territories. The inherent organization of biology attracted me. In biology there is perfectly choreographed cooperation, delicately balanced reciprocity and mutual dependence between diverse species at every level. Inside every one of my cells, teams of molecules join together in perfect coordination to produce the traits and functions of my body.
At the basis of these perfectly coordinated biological processes is the master molecule, DNA. DNA is the blueprint that commands every trait each of my cells possesses. DNA, through precisely controlled chemical reactions, produces the proteins in my body which perform the actual functions that make me me. My DNA molecules must engage in the correct chemical reactions at the correct times in the correct locations at the correct rates for the correct durations in order to keep me alive and healthy. And every one of these parameters changes based on the cell type, my age, what I ate today, and how much I slept last night. It’s a dizzyingly complex, finely tuned system.
The system can, of course, break down. When one DNA molecule develops a flaw – a mutation or a break – the entire system has a glitch. Disease and degeneration quickly follow the appearance of a DNA flaw. There are two distinct categories of DNA behavior, I learned: “good” and “bad.”
These two categories of behavior, “good” and “bad,” were deeply familiar to me. I was born to an evangelical Christian family and Bible memory verses, praying out loud and daily Bible time were normal to me. I learned about hell and original sin before I learned to read, and there was never a question that it would take some serious effort and constant self-examination coupled with the blood of Jesus to make sure I wouldn’t end up there.
I chased my childhood spark of interest in biology and chose to start my science career with a PhD dissertation on DNA repair. Cells seem to sense the danger of flawed DNA, fixing the errors with a diverse set of tools. Cells can re-join broken DNA strands or chemically remove and replace errors in DNA sequences. Extraordinarily complex damage is simply skipped when the DNA is copied for daughter cells. On a metaphorical level, DNA repair seems redemptive.
The more time I spent in biology, though, the redemption metaphor began to shift. In biology, the line between “good behavior” and “bad behavior” is actually quite blurred. Flaws in DNA strands, are by no means abnormal. It’s estimated that DNA accumulates an average of 1 million breaks per cell per day. Any one of these lesions could lead to cancer, but they occur constantly in normal, healthy cells, without sending the cell into a disease state. Perfection is actually the exception to the norm. The norm is brokenness.
So, if most DNA is flawed, what’s the difference between a healthy lung cell and a cancerous lung cell? It’s not that the healthy cell is flawless. The difference is simply that healthy cells find a way to accommodate their flaws. Cancerous cells, on the other hand, behave as though they are flawless in spite of blatant flaws.
In biology, danger doesn’t lie in flaws. Danger lies in pretending flaws aren’t there. Sin should not be surprising. It’s not abnormal, and it doesn’t have the power to destroy our spiritual health. Sensitivity to identify flaws and creativity to engage with our flaws disarms them.
Redemption, in its biological, concrete, tangible form is not about becoming more and more flawless, it’s about becoming more and more sensitive. The cell becomes more and more sensitive to its own needs and more inclusive of every aspect of itself. We can follow this pattern in our inner lives. Redemption gives us the boldness to look ourselves in the eye, shameless and content. We can begin to live with our flaws; to engage with our flaws. We’re finally able to see clearly, and we’re fearless because we don’t simply see our sin, but we see its powerlessness.
Elizabeth Jeffries is a postdoctoral research associate in the department of Pharmacology and Chemical Biology at the University of Pittsburgh. She and her husband Mark live in the city of Pittsburgh and are part of Hot Metal Bridge Faith Community in the South Side neighborhood of Pittsburgh.
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