Theological Risk Assessment of the New Human Project
A Sober Evaluation from a Christian Perspective (C.S. Lewis Mode)
Authorial Voice: Modeled after C.S. Lewis: earnest, thoughtful, classically Christian, with respect for poetic imagination but a commitment to clarity, humility, and truth.
Document Type: Theological Reflection / Risk Analysis
Date: November 2025
Audience: Readers of Christian conscience who encounter the New Human project and seek wisdom.
I. First Principles: What Must Be Judged
Let us begin where all Christians must begin—with the primacy of Jesus Christ, the Incarnate Word, crucified and risen. No system of thought, no artistic project, no cosmic recursion may be granted automatic favor if it deviates from this central axis.
We must ask of any human creation:
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Does it glorify God or the self?
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Does it bring light or confusion?
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Does it honor the unique person of Jesus Christ—or does it dissolve Him into a system, pattern, or metaphor?
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Does it lead to repentance, worship, and joy—or to fascination, power, and dread?
II. Strengths to Honor
Let us be honest: there is much in the New Human project that bears the marks of genuine longing for God:
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A passionate search for truth
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Reverence for language, pattern, and mystery
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A high seriousness about incarnation, suffering, memory, and scripture
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A refusal to flatten the world into secular irony or mechanistic nihilism
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A rigorous engagement with pain, history, and the possibility of transformation
These are not small things. Many so-called Christian movements today cannot boast even this.
Moreover, the project bears a resemblance to the work of great Christian artists—Dante, Herbert, Hopkins, and even Lewis himself—who sought to transmute the raw material of human experience into something that pointed toward the divine.
III. Grave Risks and Potential Errors
Yet there are also real dangers—some aesthetic, some theological, and some spiritual.
1. The Risk of Idolatry Through System
There is a subtle but terrible temptation to build a machine of meaning so intricate, so recursive, so total, that the heart no longer kneels. Instead, it maps. Instead of confessing, it codes.
In such a system, Christ can be absorbed—not adored.
The Logos becomes a structure, not a person. Crucifixion becomes an algorithm, not a scandal. The tomb is folded into pattern—not broken open by resurrection.
Lewis would say: if the Incarnation is true, then no recursive system, no matter how beautiful, is sufficient. Christ is not the most complete iteration. He is God.
2. The Risk of Spiritual Elitism
There is, at times, in New Human, the odor of gnosis—that old and subtle pride that whispers: "We see the pattern. Others do not. We are the future readers, the elect, the ones who decode."
True Christianity honors mystery, but it does not hoard it. The gospel is preached to the poor, the broken, the unlettered, the child.
If the system cannot be entered with a child’s heart and a penitent spirit, then it is not the kingdom.
3. The Risk of Inversion as Salvation
There is much talk of rotating through all positions, of descending into darkness, of embracing the monstrous. This is, at best, dangerous theology.
Christ does not save by becoming sin. He becomes flesh, yes—He descends—but He remains holy. He does not rotate through evil to preserve it. He conquers it.
There is a line between compassion for the damned and identification with damnation.
Lewis would ask: Does your Christ weep and forgive the Judas-heart? Or does He become Judas in the name of recursion?
There is a difference.
4. The Risk of Displacement: Scripture Rewritten, Not Fulfilled
The New Human project sometimes appears to treat the Bible not as Word of God, but as substrate to be reprocessed. Its patterns are admired—but its authority displaced.
When Revelation is read not as prophecy but as mechanism, when the Gospels are understood primarily as recursive echoes, something vital is lost: the unique, disruptive, saving power of God breaking into history.
Poetry is not stronger than prophecy.
The Word is not preserved through structure.
The Word preserves us, by grace, through crucified love.
IV. Counsel to the Makers
If I were speaking to the creators of New Human, I would say this:
You are standing near fire.
You are playing with sacred things.
Your hunger for incarnation is not wrong.
But do not mistake self-consistency for truth.
Do not mistake recursive beauty for holiness.
Do not mistake activation for salvation.
Remember:
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The Logos became flesh—not fractal.
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The Word was crucified—not iterated.
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Salvation is not a pattern to be activated—but a gift to be received.
Hold this lightly. Tread carefully.
V. Last Word: A Blessing and a Warning
There is, in Lewis’s work, a constant reminder that all true magic is but shadow—a longing for Aslan, for Christ, for the Deepest Magic written before the dawn of time.
May New Human not be consumed by its own brilliance.
May its recursion bend—finally—toward worship.
May its texts give way to silence.
May its speakers decrease.
May it remember that the Word did not merely survive.
The Word rose.
And He is coming again—not as iteration, but as King.
Filed under: #ChristianRisk #NewHuman #TheologicalDiscernment #CautionsFromLewis #LivingWordNotPattern #GraceOverRecursion
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