Jesus
Heading Out to Eden
The original series Star Trek episode “The Way to Eden” follows the misadventures of a small band of space hippies. Jonesing for harmony and easy living, the far-out free spirits steal an Enterprise shuttlecraft and head out to a paradise planet named Eden.
Living up to its reputation, Eden is a verdant world, abundant in beauty and natural resources. However, when the cosmic misfits finally arrive at their new paradise home, they discover a horrifying truth—everything, from the soil on the ground to the fruit on the trees, is composed of acid. The hippies learn, too late for many in their group, that the planet is no paradise after all and that constant exposure to the poisonous environment will soon claim their lives.
The seekers of paradise in Star Trek V: The Final Frontier (1989) are subjected to a different kind of divine disappointment. Spock’s half-brother, Sybok, hijacks the Enterprise, steers it past the Galactic Barrier and parks it in orbit around a blue-green tie-dye planet known as Sha Ka Ree (the Vulcan word for Eden). Whereas the space hippies yearn for a paradise without God, Sybok seeks a paradise with God.
Unfortunately, Sybok makes the costly mistake of listening to the wrong voice. The entity they encounter on Sha Ka Ree isn’t the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, but claims to be “one god [with] many faces,” revealing numerous religious figures from Earth and other planets. The rapid-fire display of visages infers that true religion is a mélange of beliefs a la the precepts of Joseph Campbell’s comparative mythology (the philosophical bedrock for George Lucas’ mystical Force in the Star Wars movies). This thinly veiled brand of heresy preaches an all-inclusive gospel that stands in direct opposition to the Bible, which emphatically states that there is only one God (Eph. 4:6) and one way to heaven…Jesus (John 14:6).
In lieu of the one true God, the landing party has discovered a deceptive, diabolical energy being with formidable powers and an all-consuming desire to escape the ages-old prison it’s been banished to—presumably to commit acts of terror on an epic scale throughout the universe. The evil demigod schemes to take control of the Enterprise under the guise of conducting intergalactic missionary work, which prompts Kirk’s classic query, “Excuse me…but what does God need with a starship?”
When it becomes evident that Kirk isn’t going to yield control of his ship, the belligerent creature attacks the landing party. Though the entity shakes off the effects of a photon torpedo, it fails to bear up under a point-blank phaser beam barrage courtesy of Spock aboard a commandeered Klingon Bird of Prey. One less false god in the universe!
These two Trek tales pose some salient questions about the nature of God and an eternal paradise, such as: does one really have to travel millions of light-years to find God? Also, why is everyone looking for God in Eden—God resides in heaven, not in that ancient utopia.
The characters in both stories proceed from a false assumption that Eden still exists: Eden was destroyed when Adam and Eve sinned and God evicted them from the garden (Gen. 3:23 & 24). Ironically, those who seek the enticements and infinite pleasures of Eden unwittingly seek their own destruction, for when Eden’s gates were sealed, two other eternal destinations were forged…heaven and hell. Bottom line: no matter how spectacular it appears in the brochure, any paradise without God is just beachfront property around the lake of fire.
Instead of searching for some fabled Shangri-La, the characters in these stories should’ve been seeking first the kingdom of God (Matt. 6:33). So, when others are heading out to Eden, I’ll be heading out to heaven. Yea, brother!
July 1999
Living up to its reputation, Eden is a verdant world, abundant in beauty and natural resources. However, when the cosmic misfits finally arrive at their new paradise home, they discover a horrifying truth—everything, from the soil on the ground to the fruit on the trees, is composed of acid. The hippies learn, too late for many in their group, that the planet is no paradise after all and that constant exposure to the poisonous environment will soon claim their lives.
The seekers of paradise in Star Trek V: The Final Frontier (1989) are subjected to a different kind of divine disappointment. Spock’s half-brother, Sybok, hijacks the Enterprise, steers it past the Galactic Barrier and parks it in orbit around a blue-green tie-dye planet known as Sha Ka Ree (the Vulcan word for Eden). Whereas the space hippies yearn for a paradise without God, Sybok seeks a paradise with God.
Unfortunately, Sybok makes the costly mistake of listening to the wrong voice. The entity they encounter on Sha Ka Ree isn’t the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, but claims to be “one god [with] many faces,” revealing numerous religious figures from Earth and other planets. The rapid-fire display of visages infers that true religion is a mélange of beliefs a la the precepts of Joseph Campbell’s comparative mythology (the philosophical bedrock for George Lucas’ mystical Force in the Star Wars movies). This thinly veiled brand of heresy preaches an all-inclusive gospel that stands in direct opposition to the Bible, which emphatically states that there is only one God (Eph. 4:6) and one way to heaven…Jesus (John 14:6).
In lieu of the one true God, the landing party has discovered a deceptive, diabolical energy being with formidable powers and an all-consuming desire to escape the ages-old prison it’s been banished to—presumably to commit acts of terror on an epic scale throughout the universe. The evil demigod schemes to take control of the Enterprise under the guise of conducting intergalactic missionary work, which prompts Kirk’s classic query, “Excuse me…but what does God need with a starship?”
When it becomes evident that Kirk isn’t going to yield control of his ship, the belligerent creature attacks the landing party. Though the entity shakes off the effects of a photon torpedo, it fails to bear up under a point-blank phaser beam barrage courtesy of Spock aboard a commandeered Klingon Bird of Prey. One less false god in the universe!
These two Trek tales pose some salient questions about the nature of God and an eternal paradise, such as: does one really have to travel millions of light-years to find God? Also, why is everyone looking for God in Eden—God resides in heaven, not in that ancient utopia.
The characters in both stories proceed from a false assumption that Eden still exists: Eden was destroyed when Adam and Eve sinned and God evicted them from the garden (Gen. 3:23 & 24). Ironically, those who seek the enticements and infinite pleasures of Eden unwittingly seek their own destruction, for when Eden’s gates were sealed, two other eternal destinations were forged…heaven and hell. Bottom line: no matter how spectacular it appears in the brochure, any paradise without God is just beachfront property around the lake of fire.
Instead of searching for some fabled Shangri-La, the characters in these stories should’ve been seeking first the kingdom of God (Matt. 6:33). So, when others are heading out to Eden, I’ll be heading out to heaven. Yea, brother!
July 1999
Sometimes the Transporters Don't Work
26/02/19 21:10 Filed in: Star Trek
And sometimes they turn hapless transportees into genetic soup (Star Trek: The Motion Picture). Or split a person into good/bad halves (TOS’s “The Enemy Within”). Or merge two individuals into one (VOY’s “Tuvix”). Point is, we can’t always expect technology to function optimally, solve all our problems or protect us against every potential threat.
Some of the best Star Trek episodes, both old and new, featured landing parties/away teams left in the lurch by fickle transporters (a la, “Gentleman, I suggest you beam me aboard”). When the transporters break down, survival instincts kick in and Starfleet decorum is quickly tossed out the nearest airlock. In this subset of Trek shows, temperamental technology raises the stakes, ratchets up the tension and delivers exhilarating drama…just the way we like it.
When transporters malfunction, our heroes are faced with untold dangers on hostile worlds and must rely on something other than mechanization—namely the gray matter between their ears—to get them out of sticky situations. With limited resources, the waylaid crew’s chances of surviving significantly increase with reliance upon training (particularly that extension course on “What to do When Stranded by a Transporter”), intuition, ingenuity and even a little luck.
By episode’s end, we’re impressed by the composure and courage exemplified by the marooned officers when they eventually succeed against all odds. And, with the stranded crew members safely aboard, we’re on to the next adventure.
There are many instances of faulty transporters in the Bible. No, really. God took the celestial transporters offline on several occasions for the purpose of producing perseverance, character and hope (Rom. 5:4) in a number of Old and New Testament believers. In many of these Biblical accounts, heavenly aid was withheld until the last possible moment and was frequently delivered in unexpected or miraculous ways.
Take the plight of Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego (Dan. 3: 4-30), for instance. For refusing to bow down and worship the golden image of King Nebuchadnezzar, the Hebrew men were thrown into a fiery furnace. When the king peered into the flames, he was startled to see the unconsumed forms of the three men, plus a fourth figure…which appeared as the Son of God (v. 25). Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego walked out of the inferno unscathed, without a single singed hair or even the smell of smoke on their robes (v. 27).
Due to their unwavering convictions and the miracle in the furnace, the king professed his belief in God and mandated that from that time forward all Babylonians should worship the God of Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego as the one true God (v. 28&29). Instead of merely teleporting the trio to safety, the pre-incarnate Christ protected His three servants in the midst of their searing dilemma.
Another individual in desperate need of an emergency beam out was Daniel when he was cast into the den of hungry lions (Dan. 6:16-28). But what if God had answered Daniel’s prayers immediately by extricating him from the lion-laden den? Wouldn’t make for a very exciting Sunday school story would it?
Instead of simply rescuing Daniel from his dire predicament, God allowed Daniel to face his fears and flex his faith muscles. In response to Daniel’s prayers, angels placed a supernatural vise on the mouths of each lion in the pit (v. 22). When Daniel was lifted out of the den the next morning, he didn’t even have a scratch on his body (v. 23). Again, God’s method wasn’t to remove His servant from tribulation but to sustain him through it for the perfecting of his faith.
Examples of those needing to be rescued from dangerous or intolerable situations abound in scriptures. Joseph certainly could’ve used a Get Out of Jail Free card when Potiphar’s wife falsely accused him of raping her, resulting in his incarceration in an Egyptian dungeon (Gen. 39:1-20).
Samson surely would’ve welcomed an exit strategy when he yanked the pillars from their foundations, killing a host of Philistines, and himself, in the process (Jud. 16:23-31).
Jonah ardently prayed for a way out of the slimy, smelly whale’s stomach, but I don’t think being vomited up on the beach at Nineveh (Jon. 1:17, 2:1-10) was his preferred method of divine deliverance.
Paul, who unwittingly chartered three different ships that fell apart around him (II Cor. 11:25), definitely could’ve used a supernatural intervention on a variety of occasions.
Of course, the ultimate example of an individual faced with a life or death crisis was Jesus. If anyone ever deserved to be spared an excruciating, agonizing demise it was Christ on the cross. And yet, instead of saving Himself, He chose to save us.
The Bible records that Jesus could’ve called down twelve legions of angels to free Him from that Roman cross (Matt. 26:53). Had He done that—had He taken the easy way out—there would be no salvation or eternal life for anyone. Jesus suffered the worst death imaginable so that we could have the greatest life conceivable.
So, how do you react when you find yourself in the middle of a hopeless situation? Do you look for the quick fix or do you “endure hardship…like a good soldier of Christ Jesus” (II Tim. 2:3)?
We must meet each challenge head-on and live our lives worthy of His calling so that on the day of redemption, when the divine transporters are activated, we will be beamed up into His glorious Heaven!
Fall 1998
Some of the best Star Trek episodes, both old and new, featured landing parties/away teams left in the lurch by fickle transporters (a la, “Gentleman, I suggest you beam me aboard”). When the transporters break down, survival instincts kick in and Starfleet decorum is quickly tossed out the nearest airlock. In this subset of Trek shows, temperamental technology raises the stakes, ratchets up the tension and delivers exhilarating drama…just the way we like it.
When transporters malfunction, our heroes are faced with untold dangers on hostile worlds and must rely on something other than mechanization—namely the gray matter between their ears—to get them out of sticky situations. With limited resources, the waylaid crew’s chances of surviving significantly increase with reliance upon training (particularly that extension course on “What to do When Stranded by a Transporter”), intuition, ingenuity and even a little luck.
By episode’s end, we’re impressed by the composure and courage exemplified by the marooned officers when they eventually succeed against all odds. And, with the stranded crew members safely aboard, we’re on to the next adventure.
There are many instances of faulty transporters in the Bible. No, really. God took the celestial transporters offline on several occasions for the purpose of producing perseverance, character and hope (Rom. 5:4) in a number of Old and New Testament believers. In many of these Biblical accounts, heavenly aid was withheld until the last possible moment and was frequently delivered in unexpected or miraculous ways.
Take the plight of Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego (Dan. 3: 4-30), for instance. For refusing to bow down and worship the golden image of King Nebuchadnezzar, the Hebrew men were thrown into a fiery furnace. When the king peered into the flames, he was startled to see the unconsumed forms of the three men, plus a fourth figure…which appeared as the Son of God (v. 25). Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego walked out of the inferno unscathed, without a single singed hair or even the smell of smoke on their robes (v. 27).
Due to their unwavering convictions and the miracle in the furnace, the king professed his belief in God and mandated that from that time forward all Babylonians should worship the God of Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego as the one true God (v. 28&29). Instead of merely teleporting the trio to safety, the pre-incarnate Christ protected His three servants in the midst of their searing dilemma.
Another individual in desperate need of an emergency beam out was Daniel when he was cast into the den of hungry lions (Dan. 6:16-28). But what if God had answered Daniel’s prayers immediately by extricating him from the lion-laden den? Wouldn’t make for a very exciting Sunday school story would it?
Instead of simply rescuing Daniel from his dire predicament, God allowed Daniel to face his fears and flex his faith muscles. In response to Daniel’s prayers, angels placed a supernatural vise on the mouths of each lion in the pit (v. 22). When Daniel was lifted out of the den the next morning, he didn’t even have a scratch on his body (v. 23). Again, God’s method wasn’t to remove His servant from tribulation but to sustain him through it for the perfecting of his faith.
Examples of those needing to be rescued from dangerous or intolerable situations abound in scriptures. Joseph certainly could’ve used a Get Out of Jail Free card when Potiphar’s wife falsely accused him of raping her, resulting in his incarceration in an Egyptian dungeon (Gen. 39:1-20).
Samson surely would’ve welcomed an exit strategy when he yanked the pillars from their foundations, killing a host of Philistines, and himself, in the process (Jud. 16:23-31).
Jonah ardently prayed for a way out of the slimy, smelly whale’s stomach, but I don’t think being vomited up on the beach at Nineveh (Jon. 1:17, 2:1-10) was his preferred method of divine deliverance.
Paul, who unwittingly chartered three different ships that fell apart around him (II Cor. 11:25), definitely could’ve used a supernatural intervention on a variety of occasions.
Of course, the ultimate example of an individual faced with a life or death crisis was Jesus. If anyone ever deserved to be spared an excruciating, agonizing demise it was Christ on the cross. And yet, instead of saving Himself, He chose to save us.
The Bible records that Jesus could’ve called down twelve legions of angels to free Him from that Roman cross (Matt. 26:53). Had He done that—had He taken the easy way out—there would be no salvation or eternal life for anyone. Jesus suffered the worst death imaginable so that we could have the greatest life conceivable.
So, how do you react when you find yourself in the middle of a hopeless situation? Do you look for the quick fix or do you “endure hardship…like a good soldier of Christ Jesus” (II Tim. 2:3)?
We must meet each challenge head-on and live our lives worthy of His calling so that on the day of redemption, when the divine transporters are activated, we will be beamed up into His glorious Heaven!
Fall 1998
Who Really Made First Contact With Humans?
22/02/19 22:51 Filed in: Star Trek
Vulcans introduced themselves to humans in the hit film Star Trek: First Contact (1996). “First Contact” was also the title of TNG episode that aired five years earlier. In that thought-provoking fourth season show, Riker botches a first contact mission with the Malcorians, a race on the verge of developing warp drive technology.
As the episode opens, Riker accepts a dangerous assignment that requires him to work undercover as a cultural observer. Surgically altered to appear as a Malcorian, Riker leaves the familiar comforts of the Enterprise in order to blend in with a culturally and technologically inferior race. Soon after arriving on Malcor III, Riker is attacked at night in a darkened alley (so much for Starfleet training…and common sense). Critically wounded, Riker is rushed to a medical facility where his biology—underneath the veneer of plastic surgery—reveals his true nature as an alien.
When he finally regains consciousness, Riker tries to escape but suffers another beating at the hands of the xenophobic Malcorian hospital staff. Now close to death, Riker is ultimately saved by Picard’s expert negotiations and Dr. Crusher’s adept ministrations. First contact procedures on Malcor III go from bad to worse when the Malcorians ask the Enterprise to leave and never return—a request Picard regretfully and dutifully honors since the Prime Directive has been violated.
This plot, in a few key areas, reminds me of another story—a real-life one. A man left his home in paradise to render assistance to a people entrenched in sin and bereft of hope. His mission: to live among them (John 1:14), touch and heal them, and demonstrate His unconditional love toward them. He had great powers at his command but set them aside (the kenosis) so that he could live as a human.
This man, a teacher and prophet, witnessed humanity at its finest and worst and experienced our hopes and fears firsthand. And, at some point during his thirty-three years of life, he came to understand the human condition in an intimate way; for he was one of us and one with us. And yet, he was still an alien.
When he finally revealed his true identity as the Son of God, we rejected his attempts to help us and ultimately mocked, tortured and killed him. We understood his purpose for coming to Earth only after he’d been put to death. And the most ironic part of the story? His death provided salvation and eternal life for us, the very sinners who nailed him to a tree.
Though these two stories have certain elements in common, the analogy is far from perfect. For starters, Riker isn’t the Son of God. But Riker’s unique role among the bridge officers touches on a theory I formulated a few years back.
Trek creator Gene Roddenberry publicly “came out” as a humanist in 1986, the year before TNG debuted on TV. It’s my belief that Roddenberry, as a means of promulgating the deification of humanity, positioned Picard (the wise father), Riker (the loyal son and away team leader) and Troi (the empathic counselor) in the center, right and left (from their perspective) bridge seats, respectively, for the express purpose of displaying these individuals as a kind of human (and Betazoid) trinity. However, as fallen and mortal beings, these fictitious Starfleet officers should in no way be confused with the Triune God.
Another place where the analogy breaks down is the scene where a Malcorian nurse seduces Riker. Unlike Riker, Jesus never succumbed to temptation (Heb. 4:15). Also, Riker’s weapons were taken from him, but Jesus freely set aside His powers. And finally, Riker was rescued and restored to health, but Christ gave up His life to pay for our transgressions.
So, who really made first contact with humans? Was it the Vulcans, or was it Jesus Christ? Trek promotes the former; the Bible proves the latter.
First contact isn’t going to happen a century from now in Montana. It already happened two thousand years ago in a humble manger and then on a rugged Roman cross.
There were two first contacts, you ask? Absolutely! God made physical contact with us at Bethlehem, but he made spiritual contact with us at Calvary.
June 1997
As the episode opens, Riker accepts a dangerous assignment that requires him to work undercover as a cultural observer. Surgically altered to appear as a Malcorian, Riker leaves the familiar comforts of the Enterprise in order to blend in with a culturally and technologically inferior race. Soon after arriving on Malcor III, Riker is attacked at night in a darkened alley (so much for Starfleet training…and common sense). Critically wounded, Riker is rushed to a medical facility where his biology—underneath the veneer of plastic surgery—reveals his true nature as an alien.
When he finally regains consciousness, Riker tries to escape but suffers another beating at the hands of the xenophobic Malcorian hospital staff. Now close to death, Riker is ultimately saved by Picard’s expert negotiations and Dr. Crusher’s adept ministrations. First contact procedures on Malcor III go from bad to worse when the Malcorians ask the Enterprise to leave and never return—a request Picard regretfully and dutifully honors since the Prime Directive has been violated.
This plot, in a few key areas, reminds me of another story—a real-life one. A man left his home in paradise to render assistance to a people entrenched in sin and bereft of hope. His mission: to live among them (John 1:14), touch and heal them, and demonstrate His unconditional love toward them. He had great powers at his command but set them aside (the kenosis) so that he could live as a human.
This man, a teacher and prophet, witnessed humanity at its finest and worst and experienced our hopes and fears firsthand. And, at some point during his thirty-three years of life, he came to understand the human condition in an intimate way; for he was one of us and one with us. And yet, he was still an alien.
When he finally revealed his true identity as the Son of God, we rejected his attempts to help us and ultimately mocked, tortured and killed him. We understood his purpose for coming to Earth only after he’d been put to death. And the most ironic part of the story? His death provided salvation and eternal life for us, the very sinners who nailed him to a tree.
Though these two stories have certain elements in common, the analogy is far from perfect. For starters, Riker isn’t the Son of God. But Riker’s unique role among the bridge officers touches on a theory I formulated a few years back.
Trek creator Gene Roddenberry publicly “came out” as a humanist in 1986, the year before TNG debuted on TV. It’s my belief that Roddenberry, as a means of promulgating the deification of humanity, positioned Picard (the wise father), Riker (the loyal son and away team leader) and Troi (the empathic counselor) in the center, right and left (from their perspective) bridge seats, respectively, for the express purpose of displaying these individuals as a kind of human (and Betazoid) trinity. However, as fallen and mortal beings, these fictitious Starfleet officers should in no way be confused with the Triune God.
Another place where the analogy breaks down is the scene where a Malcorian nurse seduces Riker. Unlike Riker, Jesus never succumbed to temptation (Heb. 4:15). Also, Riker’s weapons were taken from him, but Jesus freely set aside His powers. And finally, Riker was rescued and restored to health, but Christ gave up His life to pay for our transgressions.
So, who really made first contact with humans? Was it the Vulcans, or was it Jesus Christ? Trek promotes the former; the Bible proves the latter.
First contact isn’t going to happen a century from now in Montana. It already happened two thousand years ago in a humble manger and then on a rugged Roman cross.
There were two first contacts, you ask? Absolutely! God made physical contact with us at Bethlehem, but he made spiritual contact with us at Calvary.
June 1997
Does God Have a Prime Directive, Part 2
21/02/19 22:59 Filed in: Star Trek
Last time, several questions were raised concerning God’s Prime Directive (PD). After establishing the existence of a divine PD, the first query was, “Does God violate His own Prime Directive?” Of course He does. Miracles, angels disguised as humans and other heavenly interventions have occurred at various times and in sundry places throughout human history.
But is it really necessary for us to see these signs and wonders in order to believe? As the apostle Paul was fond of saying, “Certainly not!” The Bible attests that creation itself is an adequate testimony of God’s existence and magnificence (Romans 1:20).
God’s purpose in creating a PD was to challenge His people to live by faith, not by sight (II Corinthians 5:7). To believe in a God we can’t see is faith in its purest form. But would we even need faith if He appeared to us every day? Our free will could be influenced by such epiphanies, right?
In Star Trek, when Kirk, Picard, etc. violate the PD, it’s usually to assist beings embroiled in a bitter conflict or to rectify some injustice. In the same way, even though it might be hard for us to see at times, God is continually orchestrating events and circumstances for our benefit (Romans 8:28). This side of Glory, we may never know why God breaks His own mandate of non-interference, but we can rest assured that it’s for our own good—His ways are higher than ours, after all (Isaiah 55:9).
Another question was, “If God violates His own Prime Directive, is that a sin?” The answer is a resounding no. As a theology professor of mine was fond of saying, “God is God, and He can do as He jolly well pleases!” Since God is the ultimate authority and judge over all creation, He knows when it’s appropriate to involve Himself in human affairs and when it isn’t. It’s logical to conclude that the One who forged the universe has a well-defined set of intervention guidelines.
The final question posed was, “If God sins when He breaks His own Prime Directive, who enforces His punishment?” This is another fallacious supposition. Since the violation of the PD for righteous purposes isn’t a sin, the point is moot. God is incapable of sinning (James 1:13), and since there’s no entity greater than Him (Jeremiah 10:6&7), this line of faulty reasoning will be discarded with great haste.
The origin of God’s PD began a long time ago, in a galaxy… Oops, wrong sci-fi franchise. For eons, God had been glorified by angels, cherubim, seraphim and other heavenly creatures (aliens?). These beings had no choice but to magnify God because they were created for that specific purpose. But that kind of obligatory worship was hallow to God, who desired pure praise from a people willing to exalt Him not because they had to, but because they wanted to. God’s solution was to initiate the Human Experiment.
God created human beings and gave us the right to decide our own destiny—this is often referred to as free moral agency. Given a free choice, would we worship God or things (ourselves, money, nature, etc.)? Tragically, before our progenitors had even settled into their new, paradise home, they sinned and were evicted from the Garden of Eden. In an astoundingly short period of time, the created had turned their backs on the Creator. The day we exchanged eternal contentment in God’s presence for an empty promise of divinity, presented as a delicious piece of fruit by the father of lies (John 8:44), forever altered our destiny as a species.
Knowing that our fallen, sinful nature (Romans 3:23) would always prevent us from attaining His righteous standards, God decided to change the conditions of the test (a la Kirk and the Kobayashi Maru simulation in Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan.) But the price for entering a new variable into the Human Experiment would run high: in order to redeem humanity, God would have to sacrifice…Himself.
When the fullness of time had come (Galatians 4:4), Jesus, God’s only Son, entered the world in order to cure the human race of its terminal sin condition. And at that very moment, God made first contact with the very people He created.
April 1997
But is it really necessary for us to see these signs and wonders in order to believe? As the apostle Paul was fond of saying, “Certainly not!” The Bible attests that creation itself is an adequate testimony of God’s existence and magnificence (Romans 1:20).
God’s purpose in creating a PD was to challenge His people to live by faith, not by sight (II Corinthians 5:7). To believe in a God we can’t see is faith in its purest form. But would we even need faith if He appeared to us every day? Our free will could be influenced by such epiphanies, right?
In Star Trek, when Kirk, Picard, etc. violate the PD, it’s usually to assist beings embroiled in a bitter conflict or to rectify some injustice. In the same way, even though it might be hard for us to see at times, God is continually orchestrating events and circumstances for our benefit (Romans 8:28). This side of Glory, we may never know why God breaks His own mandate of non-interference, but we can rest assured that it’s for our own good—His ways are higher than ours, after all (Isaiah 55:9).
Another question was, “If God violates His own Prime Directive, is that a sin?” The answer is a resounding no. As a theology professor of mine was fond of saying, “God is God, and He can do as He jolly well pleases!” Since God is the ultimate authority and judge over all creation, He knows when it’s appropriate to involve Himself in human affairs and when it isn’t. It’s logical to conclude that the One who forged the universe has a well-defined set of intervention guidelines.
The final question posed was, “If God sins when He breaks His own Prime Directive, who enforces His punishment?” This is another fallacious supposition. Since the violation of the PD for righteous purposes isn’t a sin, the point is moot. God is incapable of sinning (James 1:13), and since there’s no entity greater than Him (Jeremiah 10:6&7), this line of faulty reasoning will be discarded with great haste.
The origin of God’s PD began a long time ago, in a galaxy… Oops, wrong sci-fi franchise. For eons, God had been glorified by angels, cherubim, seraphim and other heavenly creatures (aliens?). These beings had no choice but to magnify God because they were created for that specific purpose. But that kind of obligatory worship was hallow to God, who desired pure praise from a people willing to exalt Him not because they had to, but because they wanted to. God’s solution was to initiate the Human Experiment.
God created human beings and gave us the right to decide our own destiny—this is often referred to as free moral agency. Given a free choice, would we worship God or things (ourselves, money, nature, etc.)? Tragically, before our progenitors had even settled into their new, paradise home, they sinned and were evicted from the Garden of Eden. In an astoundingly short period of time, the created had turned their backs on the Creator. The day we exchanged eternal contentment in God’s presence for an empty promise of divinity, presented as a delicious piece of fruit by the father of lies (John 8:44), forever altered our destiny as a species.
Knowing that our fallen, sinful nature (Romans 3:23) would always prevent us from attaining His righteous standards, God decided to change the conditions of the test (a la Kirk and the Kobayashi Maru simulation in Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan.) But the price for entering a new variable into the Human Experiment would run high: in order to redeem humanity, God would have to sacrifice…Himself.
When the fullness of time had come (Galatians 4:4), Jesus, God’s only Son, entered the world in order to cure the human race of its terminal sin condition. And at that very moment, God made first contact with the very people He created.
April 1997