The idea that we might be living in a simulation has become one of the most captivating theories of the modern age. It has gathered scientists, philosophers, and technologists into the same conversation, inviting them to imagine that all we see, including light, matter, thought, and consciousness, could be the output of a vast computational system. Its appeal is understandable. The theory seems to reconcile the precision of physics with the creativity of design. It acknowledges pattern and intelligence. It offers a kind of secular transcendence, a way to say that the universe is not random, but ordered by a higher mind.
Simulation theory, at its heart, is an echo of something true. It recognizes that reality carries structure, logic, and meaning. What it fails to recognize is that this order is not the result of code, but of Word. In the language of Scripture, the world was not programmed into being, it was spoken into being. “And God said, ‘Let there be light,’ and there was light.” That is not mythic poetry. It is metaphysical truth. Reality exists because a conscious, eternal mind willed it to exist and sustains it continually.
“He upholds the universe by the word of his power.”
— Hebrews 1:3
If the universe were a simulation, it would depend on an underlying reality greater than itself. Somewhere, outside the system, there would have to be a realm of true existence that houses the mind or machinery that runs it. Simulation theory cannot escape this logic. It only pushes the question one level higher. Who made the simulators. What sustains them. If they are finite minds, they also have an origin. The chain cannot extend infinitely without resting upon something that simply is. In the biblical account, that foundation is not another layer of computation, but the uncreated Creator, being itself, without beginning or dependency.
“All things were created through him and for him. He is before all things, and in him all things hold together.”
— Colossians 1:16–17
The distinction is critical. A simulation describes an illusion, a projection, a false environment experienced by unknowing participants. Creation, by contrast, is real. It is dependent and authentic. It does not exist apart from its Maker, yet it is not a trick of perception. The stars, the sea, and the human mind are true expressions of divine intention, not artificial constructs of a machine.
Simulation theory borrows its power from our age’s technology. We now create digital worlds so complex they seem alive. In them, characters move, think, and act according to programmed laws. What we build in code is not life. It is mimicry. A million lines of logic cannot produce consciousness. The mind cannot be reduced to data, and love, awe, and moral will do not reduce to software. When Genesis says that God breathed life into man and he became a living soul, it describes what simulation can never achieve. It is the infusion of personhood and the gift of real being.
Our fascination with simulation theory also exposes something deeply human. It reveals our longing for transcendence. We sense there must be something beyond this world, some intelligence beyond the veil. Instead of looking upward, we project outward, imagining artificial heavens built by our own hands. The theory is interesting because it brushes against the truth. Reality is not self-existent. It points beyond itself to mind and meaning, but it stops short of naming that mind as God.
If we are code, then nothing is ultimately real, not even the love between two souls or the moral weight of a decision. If we are created, then everything matters. Every choice, every act of compassion, and every moment of beauty participate in a reality that was intentionally designed. In a simulated world, the highest goal is to find the programmer. In a created world, the highest calling is to know the Creator.
The simulation may capture the imagination. Creation captures the heart. It affirms that what we touch and feel is real, and that existence itself is a gift. The light on the water, the sound of rain, and the warmth of another’s hand are not pixels on a cosmic screen. They are signs of a deeper reality, spoken into being and sustained by love.
“In him we live and move and have our being.”
— Acts 17:28
The universe is not a mathematical illusion. It is the language of God made visible, true and grounded and personal. The logic of the simulation hints at design. Creation reveals the Designer. Reality is not an accident of code. It is a revelation of the eternal mind who spoke, and it was so.