"The Toddler" has lived up to its name. The Massachusetts Institute of Technology recently unveiled its newest robotic creation at a meeting of the American Association for the Advancement of Science, and the invention performed as planned. Standing knee-high to a human, the device walks more naturally than earlier generations of robots. One day its descendants may be able to walk for days rather than minutes, using simpler mechanisms than in previous creations.

The Toddler and robots of similar design may help scientists develop more natural prosthetic devices for humans, as well as a new generation of robotic help. And unlike the toddlers I remember personally, none is likely to need its diaper changed at two in the morning.

Reading the reports, I am struck with two contradictory emotions. One is awe at human ingenuity, our ability to produce machines of such remarkable sophistication. I wouldn't know the first thing about creating a device which could walk on its own, sensing the floor and adjusting automatically with each step.

At the same time, I am reminded of how little we know. Our greatest scientists, working at the most advanced laboratories in the world, cannot produce a device which does what a preliterate baby does naturally. We can walk in space, but we cannot imitate completely the walk of an infant. We can create computers with which to write these words, but we cannot create a living blade of grass.

For all our scientific progress, our minds are still finite and fallen. Our test tubes cannot show us what lies beyond death, on the other side of this brief moment we call life. Our proven knowledge is limited to the tiny slice of reality we can experience in this moment. For the eternal questions, we need knowledge beyond our time-conditioned world. We need a relationship with the Creator who transcends his creation. We need to trust the One no test tube can contain, the Person no laboratory logic can fathom. Nothing worth proving can be proven.

But we try. We want life to make sense. We believe that non-contradiction is the test for truth, that logic and reason are the way forward. And when we find apparent contradictions in our laboratories or our Bibles, we protest. "The Bible is filled with contradictions," we often hear. Such criticism justifies the skepticism about biblical authority which is so common today. Why do we think in this way? What are we to believe about the Bible and "contradictions"?

In our Friday essays we're exploring the crucial issue of biblical authority. So far we've discussed the process by which the Bible was written, its books chosen, its truth inspired. We've considered objective, empirical evidence for its trustworthiness. Now we'll look at the issue of alleged contradictions in Scripture. How do we respond to the charge?