The Cosmic Language of Numbers
Decoding Einstein’s Wonder
“Thus the heavens and the earth were completed in all their vast array. By the seventh day God had finished the work he had been doing; so on the seventh day he rested from all his work (Genesis 2:1-2).”
Albert Einstein once said, “The most incomprehensible thing about the world is that it is comprehensible.” It’s a line that stops you dead in your tracks, like a cosmic gut punch. The universe—this sprawling, chaotic, star-dappled monstrosity of galaxies, black holes, and quantum weirdness—somehow makes sense to us. Us! A bunch of squishy-brained humans that seem to be made to stumble across life in our sin and seeking salvation, not to unravel the secrets of spacetime.
Einstein wasn’t just marveling at the universe’s order; he was gobsmacked that our puny minds could grasp it. And the secret sauce behind this miracle? Numbers. They’re not just cold, hard digits—they’re a language, a way we talk to the cosmos and, astonishingly, it talks back.
Let’s get this straight: numbers aren’t some alien code dropped from the heavens. They’re as human as poetry, as earthy as a campfire story.
Numbers are words, plain and simple. They’re symbols we cooked up to wrestle with the world’s complexity, to pin down its patterns, and to tell its stories. When you scribble “2 + 2 = 4” on a napkin, you’re not just doing math—you’re narrating a truth about the universe. Two apples plus two more? That’s a tale of abundance. Two galaxies merging? That’s a saga written in starlight. Numbers are how we translate the infinite into something we can hold in our heads.
Think about it. The universe is a beast and at most 13.8 billion years old, 93 billion light-years wide, stuffed with more stars than you could count in a million lifetimes. Many scientists speculate that it’s got dark matter we can’t see, dark energy we can’t explain, and particles that seem to flip reality on its head.
Our brains? They’re built for small-scale survival. We are wired to spot a ripe fruit or a lurking predator. God also gave us the ability to reason, speak, and corporate to build society. But we’re not supposed to get all this scientific stuff. Yet here we are, using the language of mathematics to map black holes, predict planetary orbits, and decode the Big Bang’s afterglow. That’s not just impressive—it’s downright outrageous.
Mathematics is a language, and like any language, it’s got grammar, syntax, and a knack for storytelling. The equation “E=mc²” isn’t just a formula; it’s a sentence, a bombshell of a statement that says energy and mass are two sides of the same coin. It’s as poetic as Shakespeare, as revolutionary as a manifesto. When we write “πr²” to describe a circle’s area, we’re not just crunching numbers—we’re describing a shape that’s been true since the dawn of time. Numbers let us speak the universe’s dialect, from the spiral of a galaxy to the arc of a raindrop.
But let’s not kid ourselves—numbers, like words, are human inventions. The digit “7” isn’t floating out there in the ether any more than the letter “G” is. That is a feature of Platonism. Instead, fictionalism is the belief that numbers are useful fictions, like a legal entity; they can be used to represent an idea that we need to grapple with. They are merely symbols, agreed-upon squiggles we use to communicate. The Romans had their “VII,” the Babylonians their cuneiform wedges, the Chinese their 七. Different alphabets, same idea. Numbers are the vocabulary we’ve crafted to talk about quantity, change, and order.
Why do some people seem to get math faster and better than others? Just like learning Spanish or Swahili, mastering this language takes practice. No one bats an eye when a kid struggles to conjugate verbs, but if they stumble over algebra? Suddenly, they’re “bad at math.” Bull. Math is just a language barrier we can all cross with enough time and grit.
Here’s where Einstein’s wonder kicks in. Our universe seems to be overtly governed by equations that describe the relationship between objects. The fact that this human-made language of numbers actually works—that it can predict a comet’s path or explain why apples fall—is nothing short of miraculous.
The laws of physics, written in the grammar of math, aren’t just guesses. They’re truths we’ve teased out of a universe that didn’t have to play nice. Gravity doesn’t care if we understand it. Yet, Newton’s equations let us calculate its pull to the decimal. Quantum mechanics is weirder than a fever dream, but Schrödinger’s wave function describes it with eerie precision. That’s not just comprehension; that’s communion.
Christian Leadership and the Language of Creation
This brings us to a truth that echoes through the ages, articulated in The Constantine Doctrine: Christian leadership is the backbone of a civilization that seeks justice, freedom, and truth.
And what is mathematics if not a tool God gave us to decipher His creation?
In the Judeo-Christian tradition, the universe isn’t a random accident—it’s an ordered masterpiece, crafted by a purposeful, intelligent designer. The fact that numbers, a language we’ve honed, align so perfectly with the cosmos isn’t luck; it’s evidence of a divine blueprint. Christians must lead in every sphere of society, including the sciences, to ensure that our pursuit of knowledge glorifies God and uplifts humanity.
The argument for God based on mathematics, also known as the "unreasonable effectiveness of mathematics" argument, suggests that the applicability of mathematics to the physical world is so profound that it's unlikely to be a mere coincidence. If God doesn't exist, the harmonious relationship between mathematics and the physical world would be implausible. Therefore, the existence of God is a necessary explanation for this mathematical-physical connection.
Elaboration:
Premise 1: If God does not exist, the applicability of mathematics to the physical world is a mere coincidence.
Premise 2: The applicability of mathematics to the physical world is not a mere coincidence.
Conclusion: Therefore, God exists.
From Constantine to the Founding Fathers, Christian leaders have shaped Western Civilization by embracing truth, whether in governance, law, or science.
The U.S. Constitution itself was forged by men who saw Biblical principles as the foundation for liberty and justice. They didn’t check their faith at the door; they carried it into the public square. Similarly, the pioneers of mathematics—think Newton, Kepler, or Pascal—were devout Christians who saw their equations as a way to read God’s mind. Their work wasn’t secular; it was worship. They understood that numbers, like Scripture, reveal the order and beauty of creation. This is the realm of natural theology—how we understand natural or general revelation given to us in the world around us. When Christians lead in mathematics, they don’t just solve equations—they bear witness to the Creator who set the stars in motion.
Christians must stop shying away from leadership in intellectual fields like mathematics. The language of numbers isn’t neutral; it’s a gift from God, meant to be stewarded with purpose. In a world increasingly seduced by secularism, Christian mathematicians, scientists, and educators have to show that math isn’t just about calculations—it’s about uncovering the divine order woven into the fabric of reality. By leading in this arena, Christians can fill the “God-shaped hole” in our culture and restore a sense of awe and purpose to the study of the cosmos.
And yet, numbers don’t just describe—they inspire. They carry ideas, emotions, even awe. A single statistic can tell a story of triumph or tragedy: 7.8 billion people on Earth, each with a life as vivid as your own. A physicist’s equation can spark a revolution; a statistician’s data can change policy. Numbers aren’t cold—they’re alive with meaning. They’re how we grapple with the incomprehensible and come out the other side with something like understanding.
“The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of his hands.
Day after day they pour forth speech; night after night they reveal knowledge.
They have no speech, they use no words; no sound is heard from them.
Yet their voice goes out into all the earth, their words to the ends of the world (Psalm 19:1–4 ).”
So why do so many of us freeze up at the sight of an equation? It’s the same reason some folks clam up when asked to speak French—it feels foreign, intimidating, like a club we weren’t invited to. But math isn’t separate from the human experience; it’s woven into it. You don’t need to be a genius to speak it, just like you don’t need to be Shakespeare to tell a story. Start small: count the stars, measure a recipe, balance a budget, and estimate a probability. You’re already fluent in the basics.
Einstein’s quote isn’t just about the universe—it’s about us. It’s about the wild, improbable fact that we can take a cosmos of unimaginable scale and complexity and make it comprehensible through the language of numbers. That’s not just a skill; it’s a superpower. And it’s a power Christians must wield boldly, leading with faith to shape a civilization that reflects God’s truth.
So the next time you see an equation, don’t see a hurdle—see a sentence, a story, a piece of the universe speaking to you. When we accurately calculate, we speak to creation in God’s language of numbers with confidence.