There is something profoundly moving about the way John Gribbin writes about science. He does not just describe facts; he tells a story of wonder, discovery, and the quiet persistence of human curiosity. In Seven Pillars of Science, Gribbin explores seven ideas that have shaped everything we know about the universe: atoms, energy, entropy, the expanding universe, DNA, quantum fields, and evolution. Each idea changed how we see the world, but together, they reflect our timeless search for meaning.
The first pillar, that everything is made of atoms, reminds us that we are all connected. The air we breathe, the oceans that cradle us, the stars that light our nights are all built from the same building blocks. To realize that you and the sun share the same stardust is to understand unity in its purest form. Science, at its best, humbles us.
The second pillar, that energy is conserved, carries a quiet comfort. Nothing truly disappears; it simply changes form. The warmth of a hand, the motion of a heartbeat, the whisper of wind through trees are all transformations of the same energy. Even in death, energy is not lost. It becomes something else. This law of nature carries a spiritual truth: what once existed, in some form, always will.
Then comes entropy, the third pillar, the principle that everything tends toward disorder. It is the law that gives time its direction and life its fragility. Entropy explains why things fall apart, why stars burn out, why moments fade into memory. Dan Brown’s novel Origin was built around this very concept, asking where we come from and where we are going. Entropy does not only explain the universe’s decay; it also explains our longing for meaning within it. It is why we cling to art, to love, and to memory. These small acts of creation are our defiance against the slow unraveling of all things.
The fourth pillar, the expanding universe, reveals that creation was not a single event but a continuing one. Galaxies still drift apart, space stretches wider, and light keeps traveling farther. We live within an ongoing act of creation, part of a universe that is still breathing and growing.
The fifth pillar, DNA, is my favourite. Within every cell lies a story written in a four-letter code, a quiet record of life itself. This is the thread that connects us to every living being that ever existed. I find something sacred in that thought. In medicine, DNA is more than a molecule; it is the language of healing and inheritance. It holds both our vulnerabilities and our strengths, the blueprint for disease and the key to its cure. To study it is to witness how fearfully and wonderfully we are made. Every cell, every repair, every heartbeat speaks of divine design woven into biology.
The sixth pillar, quantum theory, tells us that reality is not fixed but fluid, a dance of possibility at the smallest scale. Everything we see and touch arises from this invisible sea of uncertainty. It reminds me of what other thinkers like Brian Greene and Carlo Rovelli describe: a universe that is not mechanical but alive, pulsing with connection. There is a quiet poetry in that, an echo of how relationships, faith, and even healing evolve.
Finally, evolution, the seventh pillar, teaches that complexity can grow from simplicity, that life changes and adapts. For me, understanding evolution does not replace faith; it deepens it. I do not see it as a contradiction to the creation story but as one of the many ways through which God continues His work. Science shows us the process; faith reminds us of the purpose. The more I learn about how life unfolds, the more I see the fingerprints of a Creator who designed both the beginning and the becoming.
Gribbin’s book is not only about science; it is about us. It reminds us that curiosity is not a luxury, it is part of our nature. The desire to know is an act of love. Science, like faith, begins with wonder, that soft gasp at something larger than ourselves. These seven pillars do not just explain how the universe works; they reveal how we do. We keep searching for meaning even as entropy whispers that nothing lasts forever.
Perhaps that is the point. The beauty of life may lie in the fact that it does not last. Like atoms, energy, and stars, we are meant to change form, to pass something on, to continue the story in another way.