Chapter 2: Renewing Our Minds 1

Psalm 110: 1-7

“The LORD said to my Lord, ‘Sit at my right hand, till I make Your enemies Your footstool.’  The LORD shall send the rod of Your strength out of Zion.  Rule in the midst of Your enemies.  Your people shall be volunteers in the day of Your power; in the beauties of holiness, from eh womb of the morning, you have the dew of Your youth.  The LORD has sworn and will not relent, you are a priest forever according to the order of Melchizedek.  The Lord is at Your right hand; He shall execute kings in the day of His wrath.  He shall judge among the nations, he shall fill the places with dead bodies, He shall execute the heads of many countries, He shall drink of the brook boy the wayside; Therefore He shall life up the head.”

“Understood, Captain,” Art-bot croons, her tone soft as the ship’s hum.  She hands Moose a steaming cup of coffee, the porcelain hot against his hand.  He takes a slow, slurping sip and nods, eyes half-lidded.  The aroma cuts through recycled air.  Sliding into the helm chair, he pulls his hat brim low and lets the thought settle.

“We’ll hold the bridge steady while she rests.  Her core’s still recalibrating; you can feel it in the deck plates—like a heartbeat just a little out of rhythm.”  Art-bot’s voice lowers, calm and resolute.  “She’ll come around. Even if she still needs to heal.”

Q-bot swivels from her console, cyan optics flickering like candlelight, a cascade of syllables tumbling through her translator.  “Birrr. Zebaluuuuchis harringa taktakamarinai brrzzzt.”  The sound hangs in the air a moment, strange and comforting all at once.

Moose exhales, one hand resting on a Bible.  “Be anxious for nothing,” he murmurs, voice barely above the hum of the ship.  He wrinkles his nose, staring out the viewport where the stars drift slow and patient.

Moose flips the intercoms on.

“Morning, crew.”  A soft crackle hums through the ship as his voice settles into every corridor.  “Let me start today’s studies by saying my opinion.”

He sips from his mug, eyes half-lidded under the brim of his red cap.“Romans 12:1–2 — these are key verses for a Christian. Especially a Christian coming out of Marxistology.”  He pauses, letting the words rest in the air.  “Now, I know some of us reading along might be tasting hope for the first time in a long time.  That’s good.  Go back to last week’s study in James 1 — remember patience. And temper that with this: Forever starts now.  If you are a Christian, you’re on the Eternal Time Clock.  Time doesn’t matter anymore — not like it used to.”

Another sip.  A hum through the hull.  “I’ll talk more on that as we go forward.”  He sets the mug down, fingers brushing the worn edge of his Bible.

“Romans 12:1–2 reads as follows…”

Romans 12:1–2

‘I beseech you therefore, brethren, by the mercies of God, that you present your bodies a living sacrifice, holy, acceptable to God, which is your reasonable service.  And do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind, that you may prove what is that good and acceptable and perfect Will of God.’

“First thing,” Moose continues, leaning back in his chair.  “This is a small snippet of Scripture.  It’s got script before and script after — so make sure you read through it.  Get the context. We’re starting here this morning, in Romans 12, and we’ll stay in it — Lord willing — for a while.”

He glances at the viewport where the stars drift slow, quiet, and unbothered.  “Let’s start with our bodies.  Paul beseeches us — and just in case you were curious…”  The holo-screen near the helm lights up with the word:

“So.  Paul begs us urgently to consider this,” Moose says.  “What’s he asking?  To present our bodies a living sacrifice.  Not dead — living.  We are to take our bodies, our entire selves, and offer them to Jesus.”  He pauses, a slow exhale fogging his coffee. “Now have you stopped to consider what that means? What exactly is your body?”  He leans forward, taps a key on the console.  The next verse blooms in gold on the glass:

Matthew 22:37–40

‘Jesus said to him, “You shall love the LORD your God with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your mind.  This is the first and great commandment.  And the second is like it: You shall love your neighbor as yourself.  On these two commandments hang all the Law and the Prophets.”’

“Humans — and a few aliens consist of a physical body.  But the physical isn’t all that we are.  We’ve got a soul.  An immaterial soul.  The body’s material, yes, but the mind — that’s part of the immaterial.”

He looks around the bridge, eyes flicking between the bots and the glow of the screens.  “Have we considered this with Jesus?”

He takes a breath — slower this time, softer.  “Crew, let’s take a few this morning to pray on that.  Reflect on it.  Shoot me a message if you’ve got questions.”

The intercom clicks off.  The bridge hums low.