Dominion’s Drift? Why Christians Shouldn't Colonize Mars
Why Christians Shouldn't Colonize Mars: Prologue
A Mind for the Ages, Yet Limited
Augustine was an extraordinary man—full stop, exclamation point! In my mind, he stands as the greatest thinker since the Apostle Paul, unmatched theologically and philosophically by any since. Yet Augustine, like all of us, was limited. He didn’t know what he didn’t know, which sometimes made him sound quite silly.
For instance, in City of God (Book XVI), Augustine operated within the geographical framework of his time, reflecting the Roman and biblical understanding of the world. He describes the whole Earth as consisting of Europe—primarily Germania, Greece, and Italy—alongside Africa, Asia Minor, and the Middle East. To him, this was the known world. He had no knowledge of the Americas, the British Isles (beyond vague references to Britannia), sub-Saharan Africa, or the vast reaches of Asia. The frozen North and South Poles? Forget it. Such ideas would have been pure fiction to him.
This leads to another of Augustine’s limitations: his view of the Earth's spatial composition. He considered the idea of a populated "underside" of the Earth utterly ridiculous. The concept of antipodes (pronounced an-TIP-uh-deez)—people living on the opposite side of the world—was, to him, nothing short of absurd. He dismissed the idea outright, declaring:
"But as to the fable that there are antipodes, that is to say, men on the opposite side of the earth, where the sun rises when it sets to us, men who walk with their feet opposite ours, that is on no ground credible. And, indeed, it is not affirmed that this has been learned by historical knowledge, but by scientific conjecture, on the ground that the earth is suspended within the concavity of the sky, and that it has as much room on the one side of it as on the other: hence they say that the part which is beneath must also be inhabited."
Why was Augustine so opinionated? And how could such a brilliant man be so completely wrong? The answer lies in the resources available to him. He simply didn’t know what he didn’t know. And neither do we.
We Stand on the Event Horizon of a New Era
Consider someone born in 1900 and living until 2000. Their lifetime would have spanned several extraordinary eras of change. As a child, they would have witnessed the dawn of the household telephone, revolutionizing communication. By adulthood, the automobile had transitioned from a novel curiosity to an essential mode of transportation, reshaping cities and economies.
In their middle years, the radio brought news, music, and entertainment into homes, creating a shared cultural experience on an unprecedented scale. By mid-century, television completely changed how people consumed information and entertainment, sadly becoming the centerpiece of family life.
Toward the end of their life, they would have witnessed the dawn of the computer age. Machines that once occupied entire rooms had shrunk to personal desktops, and by 2000, the internet was becoming a global phenomenon, ushering in the Information Age.
Think about it: in a single lifetime, this person would have experienced the latter part of the First Industrial Age, the Second Industrial Revolution, and the entire Information Age. They would have seen more technological progress and medical advancement than all previous generations combined since creation's dawn. They lived through the greatest exponential acceleration of human advancement yet. What would that boy from 1900 have thought about his golden years in 2000? Impossible, that’s what. And what might someone born today think of our world one hundred years from now? A world they very well could see.
An Age Like No Other
Whether we like it or not, we’ve either arrived at—or are rapidly approaching—a shocking new age. We can deny it, critique it, or try to slow it down, but we can’t stop it. Look around. We’re living in the Age of Information, the Age of Artificial Intelligence, and what could be called the Age of Exploration 2.0. Except there’s no “new world” left to explore on Earth; all that remains is space—the final frontier.
But as man turns his gaze beyond the blue skies of Earth, I can’t help but wonder: are we reaching for something, or are we running from something? What drives us to dream of life among the stars? Is it altruistic hope? Partly. Is it abandonment of a mess? Sure. Do we think that a new home will bring about a better version of mankind? Yes. All these motivations are entangled. But is the deeper reason far darker than we think? Could it be that fallen man, in his deepest, innermost being, wants to escape this world’s Creator, Lawgiver, and God? Soon, he will have the technology to try.
The Age of Exploration 2.0 is here. It is the full intention of SpaceX to not only reach Mars but colonize it. Specifically, the plan is for uncrewed Starship missions to Mars by 2026, with the possibility of crewed missions following if the unmanned missions are successful.1 The goal?
“To make humanity a multi-planetary species to preserve and extend human consciousness beyond Earth.”
We may laugh at this now, but if the Lord tarries, our great-grandchildren may look back with puzzlement and marvel at “what we didn’t know.”
Is colonizing Mars a step beyond the boundaries God intended for Christians? If Mars is eventually colonized, should Christians be a part of it? Can we wrestle with this for our great-grandchildren? The Christian Church needs a theology of the future. Too many questions are coming their way, and we need to begin thinking these things through now. It’s a profound thing to wrestle with, as I’ve discovered—and the answer may surprise you.
https://www.businessinsider.com/elon-musk-spacex-plan-colonize-mars-dont-count-on-it-2024-9
I appreciate this post as I'm dumbfounded with the lure of "colonizing" such a, well, God-forsaken place.
I've spent some limited time in Arizona back-country. Sparse, waterless (well almost it seems).
But Mars has no atmosphere, no oxygen, no water, no life. Truly a hellish place.
A prayer of Moses. Psalm 90:12. So teach us (me) to number our (my) days, that we (I) may apply our (my) heart unto wisdom.