Clocks have been a hobby of mine for many years. Although I have expended time and energy to gain a modicum of skill in their service and repair, my efforts have been of limited result. My nephew once characterized my efforts as “killing clocks”. My shelves of clocks and parts sadly suggest that his assessment was not too far from the truth. Notwithstanding, I confess to a fascination with mechanical clocks. Did you know that the term “clock” should only be applied to those with a striking and/or chiming train? This is because our word “clock” derives from the German word “glock”, meaning “bell”. Those clocks that do not strike the hour should more appropriately be called timepieces. But I digress, and for the purpose at hand I beg your indulgence should I refer to both clocks and timepieces with the generic term “clock”.
Clocks, in their simplest form, simply tell time. They have only one train (mechanism), the going train, which is solely purposed to release the energy of the spring or weight in a measured fashion to move the hands in order to display the time. Usually this type of clock will consist of gears fashioned from wood or brass, a spring, or possibly a weight in lieu of a spring. The clock is triggered to motion by either winding a spring or lifting a weight. An additional complication often encountered in clocks is a striking train (mechanism) which, like the going train, is purposed to release the energy of its respective spring or weight in order to strike the time (most commonly on the hour and the half hour). Some clocks have a third chiming train (mechanism) which, like the going and striking trains, is solely purposed to release the energy of its respective string or weight in order to play a melody prior to the striking train giving its report. With each possessing similar gears and levers, and with some having greater complications in comparison to those from earlier eras, it would not be surprising if someone surveying these structures might see a relationship between them with a seeming evolution from the earlier clocks to the later.
Their error would come, though, if they tried to surmise a natural process to the changes they see. They could potentially write a book, examining the similarities between some and the dissimilarities between others. They might spend their lifetime searching for a transitional clock that possessed the gears and spring of a going train, but had developed additional gears as it progressed toward developing a striking train. They would study the environment necessary that possessed the necessary building blocks of clockworks and lecture on the implications.
Of course, this could only happen in a society where clocks were foreign and strange and no one possessed any knowledge of their origin. We would never do this, because we know that each clock was fashioned from human knowledge and skill. No speculation is necessary regarding their origin because we know the creator.
This occurred to me, perhaps spurred by my fondness for clocks, as I looked at the marvel implicit in both the microcosm and the macrocosm of the world around us. Scientists stroke their beards and posit theory upon theory as to origins and destinies. We frantically panic that somehow through our actions we have somehow upset the natural order and fret that its now imperative that we fix the world and restore order. All the while ignoring our own arrogance in believing that puny mankind could break the world and, even more arrogantly, has the knowledge to fix it.
As Christians, we enjoy the luxury and the simplicity of marveling at the stars, at the miracle of life existing and regenerating around us, all the while with our hearts and minds at ease. We needn’t trouble ourselves with origins or destinies because, as with clocks, we know the Creator.
In a dry and thirsty land 