"That's one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind."
When Neil Armstrong stepped onto the lunar surface on July 20, 1969, he was doing more than achieving a political and technological milestone. He was, whether he knew it or not, exercising humanity's oldest calling: the dominion mandate.
"Be fruitful and multiply, and fill the earth and subdue it; and have dominion over the fish of the sea and over the birds of the air and over every living thing that moves upon the earth" (Genesis 1:28).
The dominion mandate has been misunderstood and misused—twisted to justify environmental exploitation and the abuse of creation. But properly understood, it's a call to responsible stewardship, creative cultivation, and exploration of the cosmos God created.
Space exploration represents this mandate at its best.
Dominion as Stewardship
First, let's clarify what dominion means. The Hebrew word "radah" implies ruling, but it's the kind of rule a shepherd exercises over sheep—protective, caring, aimed at flourishing. The word "subdue" (kabash) suggests bringing order, cultivating potential, developing what's latent in creation.
Adam was placed in the garden "to work it and keep it" (Genesis 2:15). The mandate isn't about exploitation but about partnership with God in developing creation's potential. We're junior partners in the cosmic project, appointed to care for and develop what God has made.
Space exploration embodies this perfectly. We're not conquering space; we're learning about it, exploring it, gradually developing the capacity to live within it. We're discovering the intricate beauty of what God has created and learning how to flourish within those created realities.
The Autistic Angle
As someone autistic, I'm fascinated by systems, patterns, and technical details. The Apollo program represents human systematic thinking at its finest—hundreds of thousands of engineers, scientists, and technicians coordinating to achieve something that seemed impossible.
The mission required understanding complex systems: orbital mechanics, materials science, computer programming, life support, radiation shielding. Each system had to interface perfectly with others. A single calculation error could mean death.
This kind of systematic, detail-oriented thinking is often associated with autistic cognitive styles. The Apollo program needed people who could obsess over technical minutiae, who wouldn't be satisfied until every system worked perfectly, who could maintain focus on complex problems for years.
In this sense, autistic traits that society often views as deficits become essential strengths. The dominion mandate requires exactly these capacities: careful attention to detail, systematic thinking, long-term focus, and genuine curiosity about how things work.
Technology as Stewardship
Some Christians are suspicious of technology, seeing it as hubris or playing God. But technology is simply applied knowledge of creation's patterns. When we build rockets, we're learning and applying the laws God embedded in physics—laws of motion, thermodynamics, materials properties.
The Saturn V rocket didn't violate natural law; it worked within natural law with exquisite precision. Every calculation relied on the orderly, rational structure of creation. The fact that the universe is mathematically describable and that those descriptions can guide engineering is itself testimony to creation's intelligibility—which Christians have historically attributed to divine design.
Technology extends our capacity to fulfill the dominion mandate. Tools let us cultivate what we couldn't cultivate otherwise, explore what we couldn't reach, understand what we couldn't perceive. The telescope revealed God's glory in distant galaxies; the rocket let us visit another world.
Expanding the Garden
Here's a provocative thought: what if the dominion mandate extends beyond Earth?
Genesis describes Eden as a garden—a cultivated space within the broader wilderness of creation. The mandate to "fill the earth" suggests expanding that garden-space outward, bringing order and flourishing to more of creation.
If that's true, then filling the earth is only the first phase. The next phase would be extending human presence beyond Earth—not to escape our responsibilities here, but to fulfill our calling on a grander scale.
Mars colonization, lunar bases, asteroid mining—these could be seen as extensions of the original mandate. We're learning to cultivate new environments, to bring life to lifeless worlds, to expand the domain where conscious beings can worship the Creator.
The Earth-First Objection
Some argue that space exploration diverts resources from pressing Earth problems. Shouldn't we fix poverty, hunger, and environmental destruction before spending billions on space?
This objection assumes a zero-sum game, but technology development often creates positive spillovers. Apollo program innovations contributed to computing, materials science, medical technology, and more. The perspective gained from seeing Earth from space catalyzed the environmental movement.
Moreover, humanity's long-term survival likely requires becoming multiplanetary. The dinosaurs went extinct because they couldn't leave Earth. We can. Ensuring humanity's survival isn't abandoning Earth—it's exercising responsible stewardship of the species God created.
That said, the objection carries weight. Space exploration must not become an excuse to neglect earthly responsibilities. We need both/and, not either/or—care for Earth and expansion beyond it.
The Bigger Picture
What strikes me most about the Apollo program is how it exemplified humanity's finest qualities: curiosity, courage, cooperation, creativity, and careful attention to reality. These are qualities the dominion mandate requires.
We learned about the universe as it actually is, not as we wished it to be. We respected physical reality—you can't fake orbital mechanics. We worked together across disciplines and differences. We attempted something difficult precisely because it was difficult.
This is dominion as it should be: respectful of creation, requiring cooperation, pushing human capabilities, oriented toward flourishing.
A Worship Perspective
Ultimately, space exploration is an act of worship—or should be. When we study the cosmos, we're learning about God's creation. When we develop technology to explore it, we're using capacities God gave us. When we stand on another world, we're fulfilling the purpose for which we were made.
Psalm 19 declares, "The heavens declare the glory of God." Apollo 11 let us hear that declaration from a new vantage point. The astronauts saw Earth as it truly is—a beautiful, fragile island of life in a vast cosmos. That perspective should evoke both gratitude and responsibility.
Conclusion
I believe the dominion mandate extends to the stars. God created a vast universe and gave us minds capable of understanding it, creativity to develop technologies to explore it, and curiosity to attempt the journey.
The Apollo program showed what humanity can achieve when we combine systematic knowledge, technical skill, courage, and cooperation. It represented the dominion mandate at its best—responsible, creative engagement with creation that reveals more of its beauty and extends human capacity to flourish within it.
As we look toward returning to the Moon and eventually reaching Mars, we should see these endeavors as part of our oldest calling: to be fruitful and multiply, to fill the cosmos God created, and to exercise careful, creative stewardship over all God has made.
The heavens declare God's glory. Apollo 11 let us declare it back—from 240,000 miles away.