Love like Emma

This year marks the 200th anniversary of Charles Darwin’s birth and the 150th anniversary of the publication of his history-changing book, “The Origin of Species.” No doubt we’ll see lots of stories and TV specials about Darwin, his theory of evolution, the controversies it still foments and the battles over religion and science, God and Man, fate and design.

I found this story in the Los Angeles Times to be both an exceptionally well-written story and an unconventional look at the intersection of two opposite worldviews:

On Jan. 29, 1839, in the little chapel in the English village of Maer, a religious, 30-year-old woman named Emma Wedgwood put on a green silk dress and got married. She believed firmly in a heaven and a hell. And she believed you had to accept God to go to heaven. She married Charles Darwin.

Charles Darwin is a controversial figure, and I believe his theory — while certainly not a threat to God or faith — has done great damage to society, leading to worldviews that devalue human life and purpose and chipping away at the very foundations of morality and justice. Even our own nation found birth in the self-evident truth that all people are created equal and derive their inalienable rights to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness from their Creator.

But too often we forget that people who changed history also lived in it. Charles Darwin was a man with hopes and fears, who loved and felt loss, who wrestled with truth and followed his convictions, finding himself at odds with his own wife, Emma, who remarked with sorrow that “our opinions on the most important subject should differ widely.”

And yet she loved him.

This was the first of several letters about religion that Emma wrote to Charles during their lives. She urged him not to close the door on faith. And she shared her fears that they would be separated for eternity. Charles always listened to what she had to say, and they talked about the problem. He kept each letter close. He wrote on one of them, “When I am dead, know that many times, I have kissed and cryed over this. C.D.” On another he wrote, simply, “God bless you.”

Charles and Emma had 10 children together. Three of the children died; the death of their beloved 10-year-old daughter, Annie, broke their hearts. That loss could have driven them apart forever. It strengthened Emma’s faith and all but closed the door on God for Charles. But they fought for their marriage. The day after Annie died, Emma wrote to Charles, “You must remember that you are my prime treasure (and always have been).”

Growing up in church, I often heard that Darwin had had a change of heart on his deathbed. With his last dying breaths, he recanted his theory of evolution and regretted he had ever published it. It sounded like an urban legend, and sure enough, it was.

But the deathbed scene laid out in this story still holds powerful meaning:

There is an apocryphal story that Darwin accepted God on his deathbed. The true story is this: When he suffered his last and fatal heart attack, Charles told Emma that he was “not the least afraid of death.” And as he slipped away, he told her, “Remember what a good wife you have been to me.” Emma held Charles in her arms as he died.

I don’t believe Darwin was right. I don’t believe he was right not to fear death. I wonder if Emma felt this way. I wonder if she believed she would ever see him again. Perhaps not.

And yet she loved him.

We can — and we should — stand for truth. And while this anniversary of the birth of Darwin and his theory should be a time for Christians and Creationists to stand our ground and make our case, to debate and challenge the lies that obstruct and distort the truth, let us also resolve to love the unbeliever, to love the ones who deny God as Creator.

To love like Emma.