The Back Page: Undaunted
Bioethics challenges are huge. But so is God
Charles Colson | posted 8/05/2002 12:00AM
As I found my seat in the ornate East Room of the White House, memories flared. I had been in this room hundreds of times during the years I served President Nixon. Today I was here for a much different reason: To hear President Bush speak about human cloning.
I confess to having become somewhat jaded; America, I thought, had become so post-Christian that I would never again hear an American president explicitly embrace Christian teaching on a profound moral issue. President Bush proved me wrong, and in the process, I was given a remarkable example of God's sovereignty.
Standing at the podium, surrounded by people in wheelchairs, President Bush described the great advances in medicine—the cracking of the genetic code and potential victories over feared diseases. But then came a warning.
"As we seek to improve human life," he said, "we must always preserve human dignity. Advances in medical technology must never come at the expense of human conscience. As we seek what is possible, we must also seek what is right, and we must not forget that even the most noble ends do not justify any means."
As I listened, my spine tingled—and not only from the President's inspiring words. Across the aisle I spotted ethicist Nigel M. de S. Cameron, whom I met 20 years before when he was a freshly minted Ph.D. running a study center in Scotland. We became friends, and I soon discovered his keen interest in bioethics.
At that time, few people even knew what the term meant, or thought about genetic engineering or cloning. For activists, abortion was the life issue. Over coffee one evening in Edinburgh, Nigel told me bioethics would emerge as the moral issue of the new millennium. He was so certain of this that he helped found the world's first bioethics journal, which began to awaken the Christian world. Nigel was like a sentry on the forward outpost, spotting the real enemy: the prospect of technology unleashed from moral restraints.
Eighteen months ago Nigel became dean of the Wilberforce Forum, Prison Fellowship's worldview policy group, and immediately set out—working with Sen. Sam Brownback (R-Kan.), Rep. Dave Weldon (R-Fla.), and others—to build a broad-based coalition. Gazing around the East Room, I realized many guests were there through Nigel's efforts.
There must have been many times over the years that Nigel became frustrated, wondering if he was wasting his time discussing an issue that seemed remote to so many. But here he was today listening to the most powerful man in the world articulating, in the manner of a moral theologian, the case he had long fought for.
My eye then fell on another guest: Joni Eareckson Tada. As a teenager, Joni dove into shallow waters in Chesapeake Bay, tragically breaking her neck. Doomed to a life of quadriplegia in a wheelchair, Joni might have been consumed with self-pity. Instead, Joni is one of the most cheerful people I've ever known.
When President Bush finished speaking, he stepped down from the podium, embraced Joni, and kissed her. At that moment, it struck me that one reason God may have allowed Joni's tragedy was this moment of witness—not only to the President, but also to the world. Joni is the Christian counterpoint to Christopher Reeve and other celebrities who make emotionally appealing but dangerously utilitarian arguments for human cloning. Joni opposes the taking of human life for medical research, even if it could lead to relief for her suffering. She understands that abortion, euthanasia, cloning, and embryonic stem-cell research are all related to one great question: What does it mean to be human?
August 5 2002, Vol. 46, No. 9