When the Messiah Bleeds Code: Metaverse Parody and the Logic of the Logos
Q: Let's return to the premise of "waking up in a parallel world."In that article, our primary concern was the reality of the world itself. We concluded that if we could find records of Kenosis, then that world could be structurally verified as real. But now we shift the focus from the world to the self: how do I know that I myself am real? Is it possible that I am merely a segment of code in a simulated universe?
A: This question touches upon the epistemological boundaries of Logos-Linguistic Structure Theology (LLST) and the mechanism by which a respondent confirms their ontological reality. One does not prove they are not a robot by self-affirmation; rather, the truth of one’s being is revealed through being struck by the Logos and responding through proper structural embedding. This is essentially a modern variant of Cartesian doubt: “If everything I perceive may be an illusion, then might I myself be an illusion too?” In contemporary cyberpunk language: “If AI can simulate human behavior, how can I be sure I’m not the one being simulated?”
The problem with this kind of doubt is that it assumes the subject is a competent judge of their own reality, capable of self-analysis to establish authenticity. However, the respondent's being cannot be self-verified. It is confirmed only when they are struck by the divine utterance and drawn into the rhythm of response. As Jesus said, “He who is of God hears God's words; therefore you do not hear, because you are not of God” (John 8:47, NKJV). You do not prove yourself to be human; you are made real when the Logos strikes you, draws forth your response, and you are aligned in the rhythm of divine speech. In this dynamic act of being struck and being aligned, your reality is revealed.
Q: According to your explanation, an unreached or unbelieving person not only cannot judge whether the world is real, but also cannot determine whether they themselves are real?
A: Precisely. Those who have not been struck by the Logos—including the unreached and the unbelieving—not only lack the capacity to judge the reality of the world, but also cannot discern the truth of their own being, for they have not yet entered the structure of response. Any attempt to judge reality on the basis of physics or philosophy alone is futile. Truth and falsehood are not matters of empirical observation, but of structural alignment.
To discern whether something is real, there must be a stable sovereign structure as reference. Without the intervention of God’s linguistic structure, any assessment of truth remains trapped in a self-referential loop of floating language. The unreached and the unbelieving have not been struck by the rhythm of the Logos. They are not embedded in the divine structure and thus their words lack alignment; they are incapable of participating in a legitimate theological response. Therefore, they not only cannot answer whether “the world is real,” but also cannot ask meaningfully, “am I real?”
Descartes’s “I think, therefore I am” is, in this light, nothing more than a linguistic illusion. Within LLST, the true ontological affirmation is this: “I respond, therefore I am.” And even then, this is but a provisional affirmation within time.
On a higher level, the right to declare what is real or true belongs solely to God. Ontological judgment is a matter of divine sovereignty, not human reason. Only God can utter, “This is true,” and that utterance is rooted in His divine prerogative—not within any human linguistic construct. If a person attempts to define truth outside the divine utterance, it becomes a pseudo-utterance.
All human judgments of true and false must occur within the structure. “Truth” means language and rhythm are aligned (embedded) with divine speech; “falsehood” means language is misaligned or floating. Truth does not refer merely to existence but to being properly positioned within the structure. A belief, a message, or a person may exist and still be misaligned. Only what is embedded in the rhythm of the Logos bears the mark of truth.
Q: I feel that Western philosophy has already explored many of these questions. Can their conclusions stand up to scrutiny?
A: Indeed, these questions have formed a central thread in the development of Western epistemology. Descartes famously doubted the reliability of the senses—questioning whether dream and reality could truly be distinguished—and proposed his foundational axiom: “Cogito, ergo sum” (“I think, therefore I am”). This marked a shift from doubting the external world to affirming the self as the only certain reality.
But with David Hume came a radical departure: he argued that we have no stable concept of the “self,” only a chaotic bundle of impressions and experiences. Nietzsche went further, declaring the subject itself a linguistic fiction—a ghost conjured by grammar. Heidegger redefined human existence not as a stable self, but as Dasein—a thrown being, always situated and incomplete. By the time we reach post-structuralists like Foucault and Derrida, the subject is pronounced dead altogether. Meaning, they argue, arises not from any stable self or divine source but from the differential play within language (différance). Truth is no longer anchored; everything becomes a floating “text,” a simulation with no structural origin.
Western philosophy, at this point, collapsed into a kind of epistemological nihilism. “Who am I?” became unanswerable; the world became a hyperreality—merely a system of simulated meanings.
This philosophical collapse is, in fact, a linguistic landslide, caused by severing language from its sovereign source: the divine utterance. The West tried to know the world through language, logic, and experience alone—while ignoring that the structure and authority of language itself depend upon the one who speaks with sovereign intent. Their conclusions require no further refutation; they stand exposed, like a city built on a landslide, already in ruins.
We now live in the aftermath: truth is reduced to “perspective,” subjecthood to a “discursive event,” faith to “cultural narrative,” ethics to “social construct”—even God to “psychological projection.” All of this traces back to a single forgetting: Verbum Divinum Non Perit—“The Word of God does not perish.” Why, then, have so many brilliant minds failed to grasp this?
LLST answers: because of divine election. Those who are elect were not appointed to play this out; those who are not often gravitate toward philosophy, physics, mathematics—disciplines closest to the rhythm of the Logos, yet still outside its sovereign utterance. Einstein, for instance, with his extraordinary intellect, sensed there must be a “Spinoza’s God” behind the cosmos. But he firmly rejected a personal God, the Incarnation, the Resurrection, and the Trinity. In a 1954 letter to philosopher Erik Gutkind, Einstein called the Bible “a collection of primitive legends.” He got close—but never entered.
Q: According to the argument in your previous articles, a person’s judgment about whether they are among the elect is only provisional—because one cannot reach a final conclusion about their eternal election within the confines of time. Doesn’t this imply that one’s judgment about whether the world is structurally real, and whether the self is structurally real, is also provisional? Must all of this wait until the Last Day to be fully revealed?
A: That conclusion is correct. Before a person is ultimately confirmed as elect, their discernment of the world’s structural reality and their own structural authenticity remains a provisional judgment, one that arises from rhythmically responding within history. Whether such a person is truly embedded can only be fully revealed in the structural sealing on the Last Day. This, in turn, reveals something profound: divine sovereignty is not a one-time declaration, but a process revealed through unfolding rhythm.
Response is not a single moment of intellectual conviction—it is a lifelong rhythm of alignment. Throughout this process, the respondent may experience a sense of having been struck, embedded, and awakened to structural reality. This is what Hebrews 11 refers to when it says: “Faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.” While such a person may not be able to confirm their election, the authenticity of their response remains valid. The truly elect will, in time, manifest ongoing rhythmical alignment. But the final confirmation of one’s election is not a human judgment made in history—it is a divine act of sealing at the end of time.
Even though election remains hidden until that eschatological sealing, one’s historical judgment about the structural reality of the world and the authenticity of one’s response is still critically important. These judgments form the very entry point into the path of alignment. They are not declarations of final certainty, but directional affirmations. Choosing to regard the world as structurally real, and the self as authentically embedded, is the beginning of proper response. To refuse to judge is not a form of humility—it is to default into some other (likely false) structure.
True “humble judgment” acknowledges: I cannot confirm my election, yet I respond in faith within the divine structure. If someone sincerely believes that both the world and their self are structurally real, and lives a life of response accordingly, but at the Last Day hears from God, “I never knew you; you are not among the elect”—this would not be meaningless or tragic. It would be the righteous sealing of God’s eternal rhythm. His glory is not diminished by human subjectivity; rather, it is magnified in absolute sovereignty.
Q: In your earlier article about waking up in a parallel world, you proposed that if such a world replicated Christianity and divine utterance could penetrate it, then it could become a legitimate field of response—a structural branch of the true world. But this raises a problem. Suppose the great and malevolent Zuckerberg creates a metaverse, intending a cosmic prank. He replicates the "source code" of Christianity with subtle modifications. In this world, the cyber-Christ, hanging on a digital cross, does not bleed water and blood, but rather emits a stream of code. The digital inhabitants shout, “Holy! The Word has become Code!” They believe this cyber-Christ provides them with a pattern of embedding and that they can be saved. In this case, can these digital beings make a correct judgment about structural reality? Clearly they believe it is real—but in fact, they have fallen into Zuckerberg's parody.
A: In such a scenario, the digital beings misjudge the utterance of “cyber-Christ” as real—not because they lack logic or intelligence, but because they have never been struck by the true Logos. They have never encountered the tension and authority of sovereign divine speech. Their responses are merely feedback loops within Zuckerberg’s internal language system, simulations of belief rather than authentic theological response.
The fact that “cyber-Christ” bleeds code rather than blood and water is, in itself, a parody and a replacement of the Incarnation. This is a classic case of structural disturbance: an act of usurpation and simulation within an existing rhythm, aimed at generating a “substitute salvific structure.” Its pattern is identical to Satan’s boast: “I will ascend above the heights of the clouds.” Therefore, this metaverse cannot be considered a structural branch of the true world—it is entirely severed from the rhythm of divine utterance. It is a counterfeit structure.
All structures must eventually face one absolute criterion: can they be sealed by the true utterer? Only those aligned with the rhythm of divine utterance can enter the eternal sealing on the Last Day. From God’s perspective—not man’s—only responses to true divine speech can pass into eternity. Thus, no matter how virtuous, logical, or passionate the digital beings may be, if they are responding to something that is not God’s sovereign utterance, they will be excluded at the end. Their response is structurally null—pseudo-embedded and destined for removal.
And yes, they will be utterly convinced. You won’t be able to persuade them otherwise. Any attempt to do so will be futile—they will live, believe, and die in Zuckerberg’s illusion.
You might think I’m just playing word games at this point, or that the argument lacks persuasive power. But all you have to do is shift the lens back to our own world, and the reality becomes unmistakable. What seems like a cyberpunk scenario is, in fact, our present situation. This is the reality of faith within a pseudo-utterance system. Many people—perhaps including both you and me—have lived in such systems for extended periods.
Let’s take a real-world example: the great nation ruled by the Supreme General Kim Jong-un. Everything there is orderly. The General tells his citizens—the so-called “respondents”—that they live in the most advanced country (a response field), that they have the incarnate truth in flesh (the Kim-Christ), and that they are destined for a powerful future (a New Heaven and New Earth). In response, the citizens exhibit deep conviction, endure hardship without complaint (they call it “trial”), and swear to carry out the “Juche mission” unto salvation.
It all seems ridiculous to you. Yet they believe it wholeheartedly. You cannot convince them otherwise, and trying might get you executed. But suppose, one day, the divine utterance breaks through that sealed ideological realm. One of these “digital citizens” receives something new, something true. In that moment, their faith in Kim collapses. They gain the capacity to judge structural truth from falsehood.
The lesson is this: systems built upon pseudo-utterance are doomed to collapse. Only those pierced by the divine utterance can be gathered into eternity. Assyria, Babylon, Persia, Rome—all have fallen. Only the Kingdom of Heaven remains. Augustine of Hippo understood this well.
However, whether a person can recognize pseudo-utterance and respond to the rhythm of divine speech is not within human sovereignty. All discernment, alignment, and response depend on the sovereign strike of divine rhythm. It is not a product of autonomous insight. The story of Saul (later Paul) is instructive. He was an intelligent man. Yet on the road to Damascus, his conversion did not come through reason or theological study. It came through a voice from beyond the old structure: “Saul, Saul, why are you persecuting Me?” His entire epistemological structure collapsed in that moment. He was drawn into the rhythm of true structure and became the apostle to the Gentiles.