Let’s be honest, friends: Sunday-school history never prepared us for the many ancient mysteries of the world, like Easter Island, the pyramids, or Malta’s temples. Yet there they stand — colossal stone works scattered across the globe, some aligned so precisely to stars, solstices, and each other’s coordinates you’d think a single mind had drawn the map. How did isolated peoples pull this off without satellites, airplanes, or even a decent compass? The polite academic answer is “ingenuity.” But a little voice inside us whispers, “Really? Is that all?”
Open your Bible and you’ll find hints of stranger things. Ezekiel’s “wheels within wheels” and fiery chariots in the sky. Giants in Genesis. And if you wander outside the 66 canonical books, you hit the lost or “hidden” books — the Book of Enoch, the Book of Jasher, the Book of Jubilees and a dozen others — 14 in all that once circulated with Scripture but didn’t make the final cut. Many speak of Watchers, Nephilim, and civilizations wiped away. Why were they left out? Maybe for doctrine. Maybe because they make us ask uncomfortable questions.
Meanwhile, in our supposedly rational 21st century, governments are quietly declassifying reports of “unidentified aerial phenomena.” The headlines tiptoe, but the subtext is juicy: credible pilots seeing things they can’t explain, radar tracking objects that outperform anything we’ve built.
So we stand amid statues that shouldn’t have been moved, temples that shouldn’t have been aligned, skulls that don’t quite fit the standard model, ancient texts hinting at giants, and modern files hinting at visitors. That’s not proof of aliens, but it’s one heck of a cosmic breadcrumb trail.
The Real Question?
Which brings us to the real question — not “Did little green beings build the pyramids?” but something deeper, more human, more unsettling: Who are we? Where are we? What really are the ancient mysteries of the world? If other intelligence have walked this planet before us, what did they do right, and what did they do wrong? What legacy did they leave? And what legacy will we leave, now that we’ve reached the same crossroads of technology and morality?
This isn’t a call to panic; it’s an invitation to wake up. To let wonder, not cynicism, be our guide. To hold our beliefs lightly enough that we can still be surprised. To remember that even our biggest skyscrapers and algorithms may be just another layer of an old story still unfolding.
In the coming weeks we’ll pivot from mystery to meaning. We’ll ask what these echoes — and the tantalizing gaps between them — can teach us about humility, stewardship, and hope. But for now, let the questions hang in the air. Breathe them in.
Presiding Chaplain Universal Life Church Monastery
George Freeman
