Roman
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
The Odyssey of Theodicy
Theodicy is a theological construct that broaches the thorny topic of how a loving God can allow people to suffer. Merriam Webster defines theodicy as a “defense of God’s goodness and omnipotence in view of the existence of evil.” Though technically accurate, that succinct and oversimplified definition of theodicy fails to address the human side of the equation—the emotional impact that tragedy has on individuals, families or communities.
In addition to being a rigorous philosophical exercise, theodicy can be expressed in the form of a question: Why do bad things happen to good people? Though customary to ask after tragedy has befallen innocent people, the unfortunate truth is that no answer can properly satisfy this universal appeal for justice.
Though the reality of that statement is as pleasant as taking a leisurely stroll across a bed of scorching coals, there’s a reason behind every ordeal we encounter in life…even if we can’t see it at the time. Well-meaning friends attempt to provide comfort in dark times and bromides seem to just roll off the tongue: “Into every life some rain must fall,” or “Suffering is good for the soul.”
Scriptures readily come to mind when troubles abound: “And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose,” (Rom. 8:28), and “I can do everything through him who gives me strength” (Phil. 4:13). These encouraging and ennobling words were penned by Paul—the no compromise first century apostle/evangelist who knew all too well the cost of following Christ. Compared to his sundry afflictions (II Cor. 11:23-28) ours seem somewhat tame, like a child whining about a lost penny when his parents are on the verge of bankruptcy.
And then there’s Job. Job is the very personification of theodicy. No one in the history of the world, with the exception of Jesus, was as well acquainted with sorrow, loss and physical anguish as Job. Call his life Murphy’s Law in overdrive (or hyperdrive/warp drive).
Most theologians agree that Job is the oldest book in the Bible, which means that theodicy’s prickly principles have confounded humans practically since the time of the fall (Gen. 3). As the story begins, we learn that God considered Job the most righteous man on Earth at that time (Job 1:8). However, the Accuser wagered that he could make Job reject God if the Almighty removed His hedge of protection from Job. God agreed to the conditions of the challenge, but prohibited Satan from killing Job.
Satan eradicated nearly everything in Job’s life: his health, his livestock, his possessions and everyone in his family except for his wife—who urged him to curse God and die. Yet through it all, Job’s trust in God never wavered: “Though he slay me, yet will I hope in him” (Job 13:15). When it seemed like Job’s death was imminent, God restored everything to Job in double measure. Job passed the test by taking his focus off his problems and needs and praying for his unbelieving friends.
Though most of us will never have to tolerate even half of what Job did, the way we handle adversity reveals a great deal about our character. Indeed, how we react to negative circumstances is a litmus test that proves whether our default mode is to rely upon self or have faith in God. In a crisis moment, we have several options: attempt to avoid the problem (which only works for a short time), try to handle it ourselves or with the help of friends and family, completely turn it over to God or mope about the situation.
A prime example of the latter is C-3POs remark in Star Wars: A New Hope (1977), “We seem to be made to suffer. It’s our lot in life.” Such a martyr complex isn’t healthy or productive, especially since Christ became a martyr in order to provide us with eternal life. Instead of indulging in a pity party like C-3PO did, our impulse should be to celebrate when life throws us a curve ball.
That’s exactly what the apostle Paul did when he was tossed into a Roman prison (Acts 16:16-40). Paul and Silas sang songs of praise to God in spite of their dire predicament. In response to their jubilant worship, God caused an earthquake to rattle the prison, providing a means of escape for Paul and the other inmates.
Though it runs in direct opposition to our conditioning, the best way to deal with a setback is to praise God for His goodness, no matter how overwhelming the circumstances are in the moment. “Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds” (Jas. 1:2).
Ultimately, there’s only one reason why God allows His people to experience hardships…to produce personal and spiritual growth. “Because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance. Perseverance must finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything” (Jas. 1:3&4).
Despite the many rigors and horrors of the Great Depression and World War II, Americans of that era are referred to today as The Greatest Generation. Forged on the anvil of tragedy and toil, they became stronger because of what they were made to endure. Similarly, with each successive trial in life we have the opportunity to become greater men and women of God.
Whether you’re in the midst of your own personal Kobayashi Maru test or if you’ve thrown your hands in the air and exclaimed, “Shaka, when the walls fell!,” know that you’re not the only one who’s faced such desperate times and that your plight is actually part of God’s purpose for your life.
So, if you’re feeling the unwelcome agency of theodicy at work in your life, just remember that it’s impossible to obtain pure gold without first purging the dross in a fiery cauldron. In the end, the only way to survive the agony of theodicy is to trust God and trek on!
Spring 1998
In addition to being a rigorous philosophical exercise, theodicy can be expressed in the form of a question: Why do bad things happen to good people? Though customary to ask after tragedy has befallen innocent people, the unfortunate truth is that no answer can properly satisfy this universal appeal for justice.
Though the reality of that statement is as pleasant as taking a leisurely stroll across a bed of scorching coals, there’s a reason behind every ordeal we encounter in life…even if we can’t see it at the time. Well-meaning friends attempt to provide comfort in dark times and bromides seem to just roll off the tongue: “Into every life some rain must fall,” or “Suffering is good for the soul.”
Scriptures readily come to mind when troubles abound: “And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose,” (Rom. 8:28), and “I can do everything through him who gives me strength” (Phil. 4:13). These encouraging and ennobling words were penned by Paul—the no compromise first century apostle/evangelist who knew all too well the cost of following Christ. Compared to his sundry afflictions (II Cor. 11:23-28) ours seem somewhat tame, like a child whining about a lost penny when his parents are on the verge of bankruptcy.
And then there’s Job. Job is the very personification of theodicy. No one in the history of the world, with the exception of Jesus, was as well acquainted with sorrow, loss and physical anguish as Job. Call his life Murphy’s Law in overdrive (or hyperdrive/warp drive).
Most theologians agree that Job is the oldest book in the Bible, which means that theodicy’s prickly principles have confounded humans practically since the time of the fall (Gen. 3). As the story begins, we learn that God considered Job the most righteous man on Earth at that time (Job 1:8). However, the Accuser wagered that he could make Job reject God if the Almighty removed His hedge of protection from Job. God agreed to the conditions of the challenge, but prohibited Satan from killing Job.
Satan eradicated nearly everything in Job’s life: his health, his livestock, his possessions and everyone in his family except for his wife—who urged him to curse God and die. Yet through it all, Job’s trust in God never wavered: “Though he slay me, yet will I hope in him” (Job 13:15). When it seemed like Job’s death was imminent, God restored everything to Job in double measure. Job passed the test by taking his focus off his problems and needs and praying for his unbelieving friends.
Though most of us will never have to tolerate even half of what Job did, the way we handle adversity reveals a great deal about our character. Indeed, how we react to negative circumstances is a litmus test that proves whether our default mode is to rely upon self or have faith in God. In a crisis moment, we have several options: attempt to avoid the problem (which only works for a short time), try to handle it ourselves or with the help of friends and family, completely turn it over to God or mope about the situation.
A prime example of the latter is C-3POs remark in Star Wars: A New Hope (1977), “We seem to be made to suffer. It’s our lot in life.” Such a martyr complex isn’t healthy or productive, especially since Christ became a martyr in order to provide us with eternal life. Instead of indulging in a pity party like C-3PO did, our impulse should be to celebrate when life throws us a curve ball.
That’s exactly what the apostle Paul did when he was tossed into a Roman prison (Acts 16:16-40). Paul and Silas sang songs of praise to God in spite of their dire predicament. In response to their jubilant worship, God caused an earthquake to rattle the prison, providing a means of escape for Paul and the other inmates.
Though it runs in direct opposition to our conditioning, the best way to deal with a setback is to praise God for His goodness, no matter how overwhelming the circumstances are in the moment. “Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds” (Jas. 1:2).
Ultimately, there’s only one reason why God allows His people to experience hardships…to produce personal and spiritual growth. “Because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance. Perseverance must finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything” (Jas. 1:3&4).
Despite the many rigors and horrors of the Great Depression and World War II, Americans of that era are referred to today as The Greatest Generation. Forged on the anvil of tragedy and toil, they became stronger because of what they were made to endure. Similarly, with each successive trial in life we have the opportunity to become greater men and women of God.
Whether you’re in the midst of your own personal Kobayashi Maru test or if you’ve thrown your hands in the air and exclaimed, “Shaka, when the walls fell!,” know that you’re not the only one who’s faced such desperate times and that your plight is actually part of God’s purpose for your life.
So, if you’re feeling the unwelcome agency of theodicy at work in your life, just remember that it’s impossible to obtain pure gold without first purging the dross in a fiery cauldron. In the end, the only way to survive the agony of theodicy is to trust God and trek on!
Spring 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