Inkari Files Entry 014 – The Prophet of Accidents

In 1809, a boy was born who would shake the confidences of saints and scientists alike.

A boy who would grow up to write, “There is grandeur in this view of life… that, whilst this planet has gone cycling on… endless forms most beautiful and most wonderful have been, and are being, evolved.” — On the Origin of Species

Charles Darwin. Idolized, defended, debated. The man who gave modern science its mythology. He wasn’t the inventor of evolution — that idea long predates him. What Darwin did was build a mechanism: natural selection, a process elegant enough to pretend it functioned without a designer.

In one stroke, he gave humanity permission to explain away its wonder.

Darwin didn’t set out to kill God. He simply made Him obsolete. Unlike Nietzsche’s defiant cry, Darwin’s rebellion was quiet — a scientist’s whisper instead of a philosopher’s scream. He didn’t denounce heaven; he just removed the need for it. God wasn’t dead; He was unnecessary. Natural selection became the substitute miracle — an unfeeling force capable of sculpting life from chaos. “Random” became sacred. “Chance” became sovereign. Humanity, in turn, became its own creation myth: matter arranging itself into meaning. The result was a new faith — one that worshiped process over purpose, motion over meaning, data over divinity. A faith without repentance, where survival replaced salvation.

Darwin’s theory was never just about biology. It became a worldview — a story about who we are and why we exist. If everything from morality to consciousness could be reduced to evolutionary advantage, then man no longer needed divine accountability. He was just another animal with better language skills.

Sin became an adaptation flaw. Virtue became a social strategy. And the soul? A side effect of neural survival.

But even Darwin wasn’t sure. In a rare moment of honesty, he wrote:

“The horrid doubt always arises whether the convictions of man’s mind, which has developed from the mind of the lower animals, are of any value or at all trustworthy.”

If evolution produced your reasoning, how can you trust reason to be true? If thought is chemical, truth is chemical — and meaning dissolves into neurons and noise.

Without a Creator, even logic self-destructs.

To Darwin’s credit, he saw patterns that any honest scientist must acknowledge. Creation does display adaptation and variety. But he mistook the pattern for the Painter. Natural selection explains how life adapts. It cannot explain how life began. It describes change, not creation. It reveals survival, not significance. But humanity, desperate to rule without reverence, turned Darwin’s mechanism into a meaning machine. We began worshiping the created order — the “laws of nature” — while rejecting the Lawgiver Himself. And that’s the oldest temptation in human history: to dethrone God by explaining Him away.

What started as science became ideology. Darwin’s ideas were twisted into Social Darwinism — the pseudoscientific justification for racism, eugenics, and empire. If nature rewards the fittest, why not humanity? If survival is the highest good, mercy is weakness.

By the early 20th century, “survival of the fittest” had replaced “love thy neighbor.” The same reasoning echoed in the speeches of tyrants, in sterilization clinics, and in polite academic applause. The irony? The theory meant to describe the natural world became the weapon used to dehumanize it. And the worship hasn’t stopped. Modern man still chants Darwin’s creed, baptized now in the glow of laboratory screens:

“We are the product of blind forces.” “We are the universe aware of itself.” “We are stardust.”

They call it science. But it’s a new kind of superstition — a religion that bows before probability instead of Providence. Yet the very data they worship still whispers design:

The fine-tuned constants of physics. The irreducible complexity of a single living cell. The DNA helix — a literal language that predates alphabets.

Chance cannot write code. Entropy cannot build poetry. And random mutations do not compose symphonies. Behind every pattern, there is still a pulse — and that pulse does not come from dust.

Christians, this is not the time to retreat from the conversation — it’s time to reclaim it.

We are not called to silence. We are called to readiness.

“But sanctify Christ as Lord in your hearts, always being ready to make a defense to everyone who asks you to give an account for the hope that is in you…” 1 Peter 3:15

If the world calls chance its god, then let us show them purpose. If the world calls itself a cosmic accident, then let us live as evidence of intention. Be thinkers. Be readers. Be question-askers who don’t fear the microscope or the debate stage. Because truth doesn’t crumble under pressure — it refines under fire.

Darwin may have given the world permission to stop believing, but he also gave the Church a challenge: To love God not just with heart and soul, but with mind.

The next generation doesn’t need louder arguments; it needs deeper affection for the Word of God — a generation that can look at the complexity of life and see not randomness, but revelation.

Darwin saw grandeur in evolution — and he wasn’t wrong. There is grandeur in life’s unfolding complexity. But the grandeur belongs to the Creator, not the chaos.

For the Christian, evolution isn’t a rival explanation; it’s a reminder that the world is still groaning — still yearning — for redemption.

The world changes because it’s broken. The design persists because its Designer never left. The prophet of accidents taught us to look at life and see progress instead of purpose. But the truth still stands: the universe isn’t improving — it’s decaying. And the only thing still evolving is our arrogance.

“For since the creation of the world His invisible attributes, His eternal power and divine nature, have been clearly seen, being understood through what has been made, so that they are without excuse.” Romans 1:20

~ Inkari Sector Δ7 Data Recovered – Romans 1:20 and 1 Peter 3:15 Transmission Archived