DNA in the Desert

How Science is Rewriting Biblical History

Speaking of traffic, you should click on this image.

Once, several years ago, a guy I knew in high school (a casual friendship, really) reached out to connect via Facebook. I barely knew him when we were in school together, and definitely didn’t know much about him at that point. But I’m usually pretty open to connecting.

We were Facebook friends for perhaps three weeks before he publicly posted to ask me a question about my faith. He was an atheist, and a lover of science fiction stories. At that time, I was primarily a science fiction writer. And his question kind of threw me.

“How can you be a science fiction writer and someone who believes in science, and still believe there’s a God?”

I say it threw me, but honestly... I get it. I know where this comes from. I don’t quite understand it, and I definitely don’t buy it. But I do get it.

For some reason, there are those who think that science killed God a long time ago.

I could go off on a rabbit trail about the impact that idea has had on our society and culture, but I’ll save it. What I will say is, my answer to that question was true then and is true today:

“The more I learn about science—particularly in the realm of quantum physics—the less choice I have. I can’t fathom a universe without God.”

Science, in other words, tends to reinforce my belief, rather than contradict it.

And the same is true for history.

The deeper I look into the history of human culture and civilization, the more profoundly it hits me—man... God is definitely real.

So when both science and history cross over, it really resonates with me. It gets those tiny little hairs on the back of my neck to stand up. It tickles and itches in my brain.

A lot of my novels come from that place. I like to explore the crossroads of science, history, and faith. I see scripture as a rich source of wisdom, but I also mine it for ideas.

But let’s not talk about ideas right now. Let’s talk about science.

There’s a stretch of parched land between science and scripture—a no man’s land where theories go to die and faith dares not tread. But in recent years, something extraordinary has started to grow there. And it’s sprouting from what we humans have left behind.

Scientists are pulling strands of ancient DNA from bones buried in desert caves, from ash-packed ruins, from clay jars sealed for millennia. They’re unlocking genomes that haven’t stirred in thousands of years. And in doing so, they’re lighting up the shadows cast by some of the oldest stories we’ve ever told.

In 2016, a team from Harvard and the Max Planck Institute sequenced the genomes of ancient Canaanite remains found in Sidon, Lebanon. This was a big deal. The Canaanites, often portrayed as the “bad guys” in Old Testament battles, were thought to have vanished from the Earth entirely—wiped out in biblical wars and divine wrath.

Except... they didn’t.

The DNA told a different story. Modern Lebanese populations share more than 90% of their ancestry with those same Canaanites. They didn’t disappear—they intermarried, migrated, blended into the genetic fabric of the region. In short, they survived. Just not in the way the scrolls suggested.

This is where archaeogenetics shines: It’s the science of peering into the past using the data written not on clay tablets or stone stele, but in mitochondria and base pairs. Where archaeology uncovers tools and bones, archaeogenetics unearths lineages and migrations. It connects the dots between who we were, and who we are. The story of the gaps.

The results we’re getting from these ancient sources are telling us that story, but they’re also starting to rewrite the footnotes of some very old books.

We’ve now got ancient DNA from Philistines, Hebrews, Egyptians, Hittites, even the denizens of forgotten desert outposts that barely show up in surviving texts. A 2019 study sequenced remains from Ashkelon and found that early Philistines were of Southern European origin—not native to the Levant, but likely sea peoples who arrived around the 12th century BC. That supports both Egyptian records and parts of the Old Testament—depending on how you read them.

Which is part of the tension here. For every alignment between genetic data and ancient writing, there’s another that throws the story sideways. Sometimes dramatically.

The story of the Twelve Tribes, for instance, starts looking a lot murkier when you track the actual genetic record of the Israelites. There's evidence of shared ancestry with surrounding groups—including the Canaanites. There’s no clear-cut boundary between "us" and "them." Just a muddy, complex, mishmash network of interrelated peoples,who traded, intermarried, warred, and worshipped across centuries.

This doesn’t disprove the biblical narrative—it just complicates it. Which, honestly, might be the most biblical twist of all.

There’s a recurring theme in these discoveries: The further we look back into human history, the more tangled and connected it becomes. These weren’t isolated kingdoms living out neat, linear destinies. They were messy, mobile, often desperate and disparate people, carving out lives in a harsh and contested landscape. You don’t have that kind of struggle, that kind of cultural challenge, without stories emerging. That’s fertile ground for myth and for metaphor.

And in some cases, the stories we thought were myths turn out to have startling correlations in the data.

Mass migrations. Genetic bottlenecks. Plagues. Famines. Sudden disappearances.

In one study, researchers tracked the collapse of the Akkadian Empire—around 4,200 years ago—to a sudden, severe drought that left a genetic fingerprint in the remains of children buried near Tell Leilan, in Syria. The same event may have forced shifts in population across Mesopotamia and Canaan, echoing stories of exodus and exile.

History is full of foot traffic. And we’re starting to learn why.

Whether the science confirms the stories or not, it’s giving them context. It’s letting us see the real people behind the mythologies.

So, about this ideas...

This intersection is where I love to live, and where a lot of my novels get their origin stories. I have a thing for lost history, and for science as a lens for rediscovering it, making it un-lost. Ok... found. But that doesn’t have the right rhythm. I call writer’s privilege.

As a writer, I’m not worried that science or history will somehow negate the existence of God. I’m not concerned that something will come up to make me question my beliefs. I welcome that, actually. First, because untried beliefs tend to fit poorly and wear out sooner.

But second, I want what I believe to be informed. And I believe that God loves questions. Questions, after all, are the keys to unlocking all the greatest things in life. Science and history are two tools we use to ask deeper questions.

And honestly, the deeper I look, the more I believe. The questions are the answers, when it comes to faith. “Seek, and you will find.”

I’m drawn to this kind of science—these deeper explorations of our genetic past—because it reminds me that history is more than just kings and battles and ruined cities. It’s blood and bone. It’s memory encoded in flesh. It’s the long and convoluted and frankly marvelous story of us, still unfolding—still being written, even now. Strand by strand.

A lot of our story has been written in stone and ink. Now we know, it was also written in our very genes.

A NOTE AT THE END

A couple of days ago I finished the first draft of a new book I’m calling The Hollow King. This one’s a “shop around book.” Meaning I intend to send it to publishers and agents, to see if there’s interest in it for a more traditional publishing path. This is something I’ve wanted for a while now. It’s been years since my last traditional publishing experience, and since then... well, I’ve written a lot of books, and gotten a lot of support. I think I can safely say that I’ve grown and matured as a writer. If... not a man and a husband. Sorry, Kara.

In this book, though, I write a bit about this crossroads of science and archaeology. I talk a little about legacy and lineage. My book doesn’t involve DNA or archaogenetics. Though now I’m thinking that would be a really interesting thing to include in the next book, maybe. But in The Hollow King I’m exploring the concept of “Time as the enemy.” And what would you do, if you turned out to be immortal, but time kept robbing you of everything? If you could see a thousand lifetimes, but couldn’t take anything meaningful with you from one to the next?

Anyway... it’s a fun book. A fun story. A sort of “heist story meets archaeological thriller.” So I have high hopes for it.

I’ll get on to other books now. I’ve got a Kotler book and a Kayne book waiting for me to swing back around. I just needed to spend some time finishing what I was doing with JD Barker (more on that later), and then writing this “shop around book” to pair with that. Now that they’re done, I can loop back to some of my regularly recurring series and characters.

Some of you have let me know that it’s past time. God bless you.

Soon.

UNTIL THE NEXT BOOK COMES OUT

I have 70+ titles available for sale wherever you like to buy and read. Ebooks are available everywhere. Print books are, too, but... well, you’ll likely need to ask your bookseller to order them for you. Some day, I’ll have titles face-out at Barnes & Noble. Until then, I appreciate you for asking for them in person.

Find my whole catalog at https://kevintumlinson.com/books

DNA tells a story. So do I. Click this picture to find a bunch of good ones.