Wes Huff Gives Biblical Explanation Of “UFO Files”
Wes Huff Gives Biblical Explanation Of “UFO Files”
The Grab-Bag of Heaven
The tracking lights on the studio camera flickered green, casting a sterile glow across the soundboard. Outside, the rain was coming down in steady, sheets against the high windows of the Calgary studio, but inside, the air was warm, smelling of dark roast coffee and static electricity.
Logan Miller adjusted his headphones, looking across the table at Wes Huff. Between them lay a printed screenshot of a Truth Social post—a grainy, high-definition video still that had gone viral less than forty-eight hours prior. It showed a metallic, spinning circle defying gravity over a military testing range in Nevada, officially unsealed by executive order.
“The level of detail coming out right now is unprecedented,” Logan said, tapping the paper. “The Department of Defense drops hundreds of files, NASA transcripts get leaked from four years ago, and now we’ve got a former president directing agencies to identify and release everything they have on extraterrestrials. It’s everywhere, Wes. The news, the podcasts, the dinner tables. So I have to ask: what does an apologist do with a sky full of flying saucers?”
Wes smiled, leaning back into his chair, interlacing his fingers over his chest. He looked remarkably grounded for a man being asked to reconcile ancient scripture with modern ufology.
“It’s funny,” Wes began, his voice calm and academic. “We think we are the first generation to grapple with things we can’t explain, but we aren’t. What we are is the first generation to be completely steeped in a very specific flavor of science fiction. The way you and I understand the concept of extraterrestrial life isn’t neutral. It’s been framed by Star Trek, Star Wars, Stargate, and Firefly. Those stories have built a box in our minds. They’ve defined what life on other planets should look like.”
He pointed toward the printout of the spinning, metallic UAP.
“Think about it this way. If you were to take that exact video of the spinning, radiant object and show it to a medieval peasant, what would his reaction be? He’d drop to his knees and say, ‘Wow, I never thought I’d see a cherubim in my lifetime.’ But you show it to the average secular modern person on the internet, and they say, ‘Wow, I never thought I’d see an alien spacecraft.’ Same data. Totally different worldview lenses.”
Act I: The Steampunk Trap
Logan leaned forward, resting his chin on his fist. “So you’re saying our vocabulary dictates our reality?”
“Absolutely,” Wes said. “We explain things by how we conceptualize them, using the framework we currently have on hand. If these objects had started showing up in the sky two hundred years ago, during the industrial boom, people wouldn’t have talked about anti-gravity propulsion or zeta-reticuli gray aliens. They would have looked at it through an H.G. Wells, steampunk lens. They would have tried to explain the phenomenon using steam valves, copper rivet plates, and mechanical pistons—the kind of stuff you read about in Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea.”
Wes reached into his leather bag and pulled out a worn, black-bound Bible, flipping through the early pages with practiced ease.
“I happen to have been reading the beginning of the Book of Ezekiel this morning,” Wes said, his eyes scanning the thin pages. “And when you look at what Ezekiel is describing by the river Chebar, it is something completely wild, completely alien to his daily experience. But watch how he describes it. He has to use the terminology and the cultural understanding he has available to him just to establish a frame of reference.”
Wes cleared his throat and began to read, his voice taking on a rhythmic, narrative weight:
“Then I looked, and behold, a storm wind was coming from the north, a great cloud with fire flashing forth continually, and a bright light all around it, and in its midst something like the gleam of glowing metal in the midst of the fire. Within it there were figures with the likeness of four living creatures… Their legs were straight, and their feet were like a calf’s hoof, and they sparkled like the gleam of burnished bronze…”
Logan watched the audio meters dance as Wes continued through the text, describing the four faces—the man, the lion, the bull, the eagle—and the terrifying workmanship of the wheels within wheels, lofty and awesome, their rims full of eyes all around, moving in any direction without turning, rising from the earth alongside the spirits of the creatures.
Wes closed the book with a soft thud. “Ezekiel is witnessing an objective reality. He’s not making it up. But look at his grab-bag of terms: glowing metal, calf’s hooves, burnished bronze, wheels, lions, and eagles. He is pulling from his cosmological world to articulate an encounter that transcends his vocabulary.”
Act II: The Intersecting Grabs
“If that exact same manifestation—the cloud of fire, the multi-faceted figures, the interlocking wheels full of eyes—descended onto a field outside Chicago today,” Wes asked, looking directly at Logan, “would we write about calf’s hooves and bronze? No. We’d talk about autonomous drones, biomechanical structures, bipedal robots, or cryptids. Because that is the box we have to pull from.”
Logan smirked, holding up his hands. “Alright, so my major takeaway from today is that Ezekiel saw an alien. Got it.”
“See, I knew you were going to say that!” Wes laughed, pointing an accusing finger at his host. “I don’t think that’s what I was saying at all. Though, to be fair, I’ve debated plenty of people in the past who have argued exactly that. Ancient astronaut theorists, people who shall remain nameless, love to pull Ezekiel or Isaiah or Jacob’s ladder into their podcasts and rebrand them as first-century UFO encounters.”
“Why do you think that specific theory is so popular right now?” Logan asked. “Why is it easier for people to buy into the ‘Chariots of the Gods’ narrative than the actual biblical text?”
Wes’s face turned serious, the playful energy fading. “There’s an old quote often attributed to G.K. Chesterton: ‘When men choose not to believe in God, they do not thereafter believe in nothing, they then become capable of believing in anything.’ Because we live in a deeply secular, materialist culture, we’ve drained the spiritual world out of our day-to-day lives. But the hunger for the transcendent doesn’t just go away. So, when people encounter things that scream that there is something beyond the material world, their science-fiction-conditioned minds immediately leap to extraterrestrials.”
He leaned forward, his voice dropping into a lower, earnest register. “Look, I’m deeply skeptical of a lot of these recent government data dumps. I’m not at all convinced that a large portion of this isn’t just the U.S. military testing advanced tech and using the ‘UFO’ narrative as a convenient smoke screen to cover their assets. But at the exact same time, as a Christian, am I willing to admit there are genuine, non-human intelligences interacting with our world? Of course I am. I believe in a spiritual cosmos full of cherubim, seraphim, angels, and demons. They are, by definition, extraterrestrial—they are not of this earth.”
Wes took a sip of his coffee. “But if one of those spiritual entities breaks into our physical plane, we don’t have the proper vocabulary to describe it. We are stuck using our contemporary grab-bag of terms. And right now, our grab-bag is full of spaceships and green men.”
Act III: Kicking the Can
Logan turned a page in his studio notes, his expression thoughtful. “You know, Wes, I think I’d take it a step further. It feels like people aren’t just using the sci-fi lens because it’s popular. It feels like they are actively entertaining these fantastical alien explanations as a deliberate way to avoid God.”
“Oh, absolutely,” Wes agreed, nodding vigorously. “It’s the ultimate way to kick the moral can down the road. I’m constantly shocked by secular thinkers who will flatly reject the historical evidence for the resurrection of Christ, calling it an ancient myth, but then turn around and seriously argue that the entire Bible can be explained by ancient alien visitations.”
“It reminds me of the panspermia theory,” Logan said. “Even brilliant materialists like Richard Dawkins have occasionally entertained the idea that life on Earth didn’t evolve spontaneously here, but was perhaps seeded by a highly advanced alien civilization that traveled across the cosmos.”
“Which is structurally ridiculous,” Wes said, a touch of wit returning to his eyes. “Because it doesn’t actually solve the origin-of-life question at all. It just kicks the can down the road into another galaxy. Okay, fine—aliens seeded life on Earth. But who created the aliens? Where did their genetic information come from? It’s an intellectual shell game designed to look at the undeniable intelligent design in the universe, admit that it looks intelligently designed, but invent any narrative necessary to avoid admitting there is a Creator to whom we might be morally accountable.”
Wes leaned back, resting his arm on the table. “The universe screams that it has an author. The complexity of DNA, the fine-tuning of the cosmological constants—it’s all there. But if you accept a Creator, you have to accept the possibility of a relationship, of a standard of right and wrong, of a design for your life. If you choose an alien, you get to keep the wonder of the cosmos without any of the moral weight. They’re just older, smarter versions of us, existing somewhere out in the dark.”
Act IV: The Kingdom of Distraction
The studio was quiet for a moment, the hum of the recording equipment filling the space between them. Logan looked down at the viral image of the spinning metallic craft, seeing it now not as a sign of future disclosure, but as an ancient trap with a new coat of paint.
“It’s a massive waste of human energy,” Logan observed quietly.
“And that,” Wes said, his voice sharpening with a sudden, pastoral intensity, “is exactly the point. If you look at the spiritual warfare landscape from a biblical worldview, you have to ask yourself: what is the enemy’s main objective? It’s not always to get you to become an avowed evil-doer. If Satan and the principalities and dominions can’t make you bad, they will make you busy. If they can get you to waste your finite time and energy on things that do not matter, they’ve won.”
Wes began counting on his fingers. “For some people, that distraction is the endless pursuit of corporate goals, hoarding money, or the modern obsession with vanity and lookmaxing. For others, it’s going down the rabbit hole of endless conspiracy theories. It could be spending your entire life savings and every weekend tramping through the woods of the Pacific Northwest trying to find Bigfoot. Or it could be spending your nights on internet forums, losing your mind over declassified UFO files, trying to decode whether the government is hiding an alien base under a mountain in New Mexico.”
He leaned forward, looking directly through Logan’s eyes, speaking to the thousands of listeners who would eventually tune into the broadcast.
“Every hour you spend obsessing over whether an alien seeded human life is an hour you aren’t spending living a self-sacrificial, God-honoring, Christ-centered life. It’s an hour you aren’t loving your neighbor, serving your family, or confronting your own brokenness. The enemy doesn’t need to convince you that the devil is real; he just needs to convince you that God isn’t, and that the sky is full of things more interesting than the One who made it.”
Wes smiled gently, his tone softening as he saw the weight of the realization hit his host. “The grab-bag of terms will change with every century, Logan. The wheels will become spaceships, and the bronze will become carbon fiber. But the voice calling us out of the storm wind remains exactly the same. We just have to stop looking for hidden files and start looking at the cross.”
Logan looked down at his soundboard, the green lights still ticking away in the quiet room. He reached out and touched the master fader, ready to bring the episode to a close, his mind finally cleared of the cosmic noise.
