If you ask most anyone who loves Star Trek what’s special about it, they will most often say that it’s hopeful. Despite (or perhaps in some ways because of) its genetically modified megalomaniacs, evil twins, and world-consuming cyborg zombies, the message people most often carry away from Star Trek is that there is hope—hope for tomorrow, hope for today, and hope for humanity’s future. “There is a tomorrow,” Gene Roddenberry said, “It’s not all gonna be over with a big flash and a bomb.” At the height of the Cold War, this simple idea that humanity was not going to destroy itself was vitally important.

Hope is still vitally important to humanity, as it always has been. In today’s world, perhaps, it may seem more necessary and more difficult to find than it has in a long time. While it may be true that we won’t destroy ourselves with bombs, there is a fear among many that, if their lives are not destroyed, their way of life will be. The development of social order and culture is part of what makes us human. Often, though, the growth of our culture seems to involve a constant tearing at its fabric. That which we seek to grow, preserve, and nurture is often that which we also must question and distrust, constantly dismantling and rebuilding our sense of purpose and security.

This is a frightening process and one that can make us feel there really is no hope. So, at times like these, it’s important that something like Star Trek exists to help us find hope. But I think we can make a mistake when we look for that hope in the place Star Trek says (in practical terms) we will find it. The hope of Star Trek’s future rests largely on human unity—on laying aside differences and working together. This, in itself, is a good thing and one toward which we should all be moving and to which we should all be contributing.

But the specific idea that humankind will unify as we work together to reach out into space has always seemed to me to be the weakest element of the Star Trek universe’s mythos. There are a number of reasons for this, the most essential of which is perhaps that it’s unrealistic, though it is at least looking for the right things.

Hope rooted in a peaceful future for humankind is a good thing. Hope rooted in generosity and kindness is a good thing. Hope rooted in the vital nurturing of the human soul in a quest for understanding is a good thing. But hoping that we will find these things when we all work together to reach out into space is at odds with human history and human nature.

As it has been said, “No matter where you go, there you are.” Even as we reach out beyond this planet, we are still us. And we will take ourselves—including our limitations, our failures, our weaknesses, and our pride—with us wherever we go. Even if all of us could work together to venture to the next star (and we can’t; only our best scientists and engineers can), we would fight the whole way about how to do it. The project—like every other human endeavor—would and will be fraught with greed, competitiveness, politics, and disagreements.

It’s nice to think that working together to find humanity’s future in space will cause us to grow beyond all that, but there’s simply nothing inherent in the process of space travel that will cure the human condition. Going to space isn’t magic. While it is wonderful, important, and worth doing, it is—like most things—an exchange of one set of complications for another.

As Star Trek itself often shows us, once we go into space—even if we have solved many of Earth’s practical problems, like poverty and disease—the project of cooperation and survival only becomes more complex. Our international political issues soon become galactic and intergalactic political issues. No matter how much we think we have it together here on Earth, there is no accounting for what—or who—we may encounter beyond our solar system and the condition of the human heart will not change just because we’ve carried it to another location.

“The final frontier,” Star Trek writer David Gerrold has said, “is not space. The final frontier is the human soul. Space is where we will meet the challenge.” Gerrold is right that the real future of humanity lies within. And surely, if we go further into space, our outward journey must be an expression of an inward journey, but the challenge of cultivating the human soul is not something we have to travel to space to encounter. We find it every day, right where we live.

Maybe that’s why the Biblical narrative says our ultimate destiny lies, not floating on a cloud somewhere, but on a restored, renewed Creation, as human beings, on Earth. Maybe that’s why humanity’s ultimate hope comes, not in a starship, but wrapped in cloths, small and helpless, snuggled in the embrace of a human mother’s arms.
​
As we embark on interstellar voyages in Star Trek, let’s always remember that the real hope for humankind is living inside us, that it came from God in human skin and that it comes for us, to find us wherever we are, whether far beyond the stars, or right here on Earth. So let’s look to the stars, as Marley says in A Christmas Carol, and remember “that blessed Star which led the Wise Men to a poor abode.” Let’s marvel at the wonder of humanity and hope for our future, but let’s always remember that hope is with us where we live because God is with us, because Immanuel. Because while we were yet hopeless, hope came for us, that we might hope again.

Recently, I had the honor and privilege of being the guest of honor at a launch party and reception for The Gospel According to Star Trek: The Original Crew. It was an intimate gathering of family and friends who had a part in the book's existence (And in mine! Thanks, mom and dad!) and who have been important in my life. Sure, it was a celebration of my book and the accomplishment of launching my career as an author, but for me, it was about giving thanks. 

I was and am so grateful for every person there and everyone who could not be there. When I began the writing of the book in earnest in 2012, the first thing I did was write the first draft of the Acknowledgements. After only a few years of research, speaking, and writing, and only one year of The Undiscovered Country Project, I was already keenly aware that I could do none of it on my own. My first feeling when I sat down to really begin the book was therefore one of gratitude.

Many of the people in the Acknowledgements section were in the room the day of the reception. So, the first thing I did was read that section aloud to those in attendance. When I think of this journey so far and of that wonderful book launch reception, I am overcome with gratitude. I owe so much to the support and encouragement of friends, family, colleagues, and of course--YOU! You, my dear UCP friends and fans, have supported and sustained me these past five years in ways you cannot possibly know. So, I'd like to take this moment to thank you all. You have been and continue to be an enormous blessing in my life.

And, for those who weren't at the reception and may not know you're in it, as well as for those who'd like to read it, I've included below the entire text of the Acknowledgements for The Gospel According to Star Trek: The Original Crew. I can't express enough what a blessing it is to be able to write and speak these things that mean so much to me. Happy Thanksgiving, everyone! May you and your families Live Long and Prosper! (John 10:10)


Acknowledgements

Gratitude doesn’t begin to cover it. In the past eight years since the idea for this book 
began to grow in my mind, I have owed my thanks to so many friends who have offered 
encouragement, support, enthusiasm, and advice, along with so many other essential 
resources and connections, without which this project could not have been completed. I 
am overwhelmingly blessed. It’s impossible to say enough, so I have chosen to keep it 
brief. I offer my deepest thanks, appreciation, and love to all those below. 

Dr. David Naugle: For the eyes with which I was able to see Star Trek—and everything 
else—in a new way. 

My parents, Richard and Jill Neece: For a bedroom to write in away from the world and 
constant faith and love for my whole life. 

My sister, Dr. Kasey Neece-Fielder: For not killing me before I reached my teen years 
and for always believing in me. And for marrying Brian, whom I thank for being my 
sister’s best friend and constant support. 

My grandparents, Phyllis Smith; Lillian, Vernie, and Ann Neece; and great aunt Gethrol 
Barnes: For constant faith and love. 

My parents-in-law, Malcolm and Melba McDow: For long patience and faithful support. 

My grandfather-in-law, William H. Justice, Sr.: For making my education possible and 
blessing me with kindness and love in the last years of his life. 

My Undiscovered Country Project (UCP) First Officer Tim Van Orden: For constant 
faithfulness, believing in me when I didn’t, and teaching me the true meaning of the word 
“Shiny!” 

Beth Van Orden: For making Tim a better man and being a marvelous audio commentary 
guest. 

Rev. Dr. Scott Youngblood: For inspiring Tim. 

Jeff Sellars: For friendship, advice, and beginning my relationship with Wipf and Stock. 

Dr. Mark J. Boone: For years of friendship, an editing partnership, guest blog posts, and 
introducing me to Jeff. 

Adam Jones: For kind encouragement and wise counsel, without which this book might 
not have found itself. 

Mike Poteet: For guest blog posts, reading chapters, and faithful advice and aid. 

Eugene Chu: For 25+ years of friendship, and the computer on which most of this book 
was written. 

Jenay Hale: For transcribing notes and a lot of this book, and for loyal friendship. 

My former UCP Communications Officer, Hannah Vestal: For faithful service, a sweet 
spirit, and nerdy friendship. 

Rich Frohlich and Texas Radio Theatre: For making higher quality UCP audio 
commentaries possible. 

John Humphreys: For getting me through school and becoming my friend for life. 

Carol Riggan and the Riverside Area Community Club, Riverside, Iowa: For welcoming 
me to Trekfest when I was unbelievably young and green and sitting me down with 
Walter Koenig and BarBara Luna. 

Walter Koenig: For honesty.

BarBara Luna: For enthusiasm for my fledging work and introducing me to Curtis 
Webster. 

Curtis Webster: For Spirit of Star Trek, a helping hand, and for introducing me to Larry 
Nemecek. 

Larry Nemecek: For kind support and valuable advice.

Steve Neill: For Spock ears, encouragement, and so much more. 

All the “Spockologists” and all the friends and fans of UCP: For keeping my warp engine 
humming with your enthusiasm and investment. 

Alyssa and the owners and staff of Roots Coffeehouse: For giving me a place to feel at 
home, a place where many, many hours of research were done and a big chunk of this 
book was written. 

Memory Alpha contributors and editors: For maintaining the finest source of in-universe Star Trek knowledge on Earth, without which my work would have been nearly impossible.

Christina Luckings of Chrissie's Transcripts Site: For dedication and generosity in creating a vital resource I simply could not do without.

Matt Wimer, Rodney Clapp, and everyone at Cascade Books: For enthusiasm, flexibility, 
support and faith.
 
Leigh Hickman: For true friendship. Every semicolon in this book is dedicated to you.
​
Finally, and most importantly, I am grateful to and for my wife Melissa and son Aidan, 
who are why I get up in the morning, why I have hope for my life, and the reason I want 
to be a better version of myself. I love you both so very much.