Frequently Asked Questions

Mormon Transhumanism is the view that the ethical use of science and technology is among the means of achieving the religious goals expressed in Mormon scripture and theology—including the mandate to become compassionate creators in the image of God. Mormonism has long taught that human beings are children of God with the capacity to grow into godhood, a process theologians call theosis—the idea that we are not merely God’s subjects but God’s children, destined to mature into beings like our Heavenly Parents. Transhumanism holds that humanity can and should use science and technology to radically extend our abilities and transcend current limitations. Mormon Transhumanism sees these not as competing visions but as two expressions of the same deep aspiration.

In practical terms, Mormon Transhumanists engage seriously with technologies like artificial intelligence, genetic engineering, and radical life extension—not as secular projects, but as expressions of a divine mandate to build, heal, and create. We believe science and religion are allies, not adversaries, and that the Mormon tradition in particular offers one of the richest theological frameworks for navigating the ethical challenges of accelerating technological change.

The Mormon Transhumanist Association, founded in 2006, is an independent nonprofit that brings together Mormons, other Christians, and interested people of diverse backgrounds to explore these intersections in good faith.

No. The Mormon Transhumanist Association is an independent 501(c)(3) nonprofit organization. We do not speak for or represent the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, and the Church has no official position on transhumanism or on our work.

That said, our engagement with Mormon theology is serious and substantive. Our ideas and arguments are grounded in Mormon scripture, history, and tradition, and we draw on authoritative sources throughout. Most of our members come from a Mormon background, and many are practicing members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

We also welcome participants from other Christian traditions, other faiths, and non-religious backgrounds. What unites us is a shared commitment to honest inquiry at the intersection of faith, science, and technology.

We recognize that leaders of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints have asked members to move away from the term “Mormon,” and we take that counsel seriously.

That said, there are substantive reasons we continue to find the term valuable. “Mormon” refers broadly to the tradition rooted in the Book of Mormon, spanning multiple denominations beyond the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Our mission engages that full tradition, not only one expression of it.

“Mormon” also remains the term by which this tradition is most widely recognized. Insisting on unfamiliar terminology can be alienating and confusing to general audiences, and clarity serves our mission better than compliance with shifting conventions.

Joseph Smith himself used the term with evident pride: “One of the grand fundamental principles of Mormonism is to receive truth, let it come from whence it may.” Where the full name of the Church emphasizes what Mormons share with broader Christianity, “Mormon” highlights what is distinctive—and it’s precisely those distinctive doctrines, especially theosis and compassionate creation, that make our engagement with transhumanism so generative.

Because Mormon theology isn’t decorative—it’s substantive. Mormonism offers one of the most rigorously materialist and radically optimistic theological traditions in the world: a tradition that affirms the physical nature of God, the eternal progression of intelligence, and the divine destiny of humanity to become compassionate creators. These aren’t vague inspirational ideas; they’re a serious metaphysical framework that genuinely illuminates the transhumanist project.

A generic transhumanist ethics group would have to construct its moral framework from scratch. We inherit one. Mormon scripture and theology provide a coherent account of why creativity and compassion matter, what kind of beings we’re becoming, and what obligations we have to each other in the process. That inheritance doesn’t constrain our thinking—it focuses and deepens it.

We also believe postsecular engagement is essential for reaching the full breadth of humanity. Most people on earth are religious, and the challenges of accelerating technological change will require moral frameworks that speak to them. Mormon Transhumanism is one rigorous model for how that can be done well.

“Transfigurism” is a term we coined to denote religious transhumanism. It draws on the concept of transfiguration—a motif found across many traditions in which encounters with the divine produce profound physical transformation. Examples include the Universal Form of Krishna in Hinduism, the Radiant Face of Moses in Judaism, the Wakening of the Buddha, the Transfiguration of Christ, and the Translation of the Three Nephites in Mormonism.

The term does something “transhumanism” alone cannot. It signals that the aspiration to radical transformation isn’t merely a secular or technological project—it’s a sacred one, grounded in humanity’s oldest and deepest intuitions about what we’re becoming. Transfigurists share with secular transhumanists the hope that science and technology are among the means for achieving that transformation, while also affirming the spiritual dimensions of the journey.

Our domain, transfigurism.org, reflects this identity. The word holds together what we believe must be held together: the material and the sacred, the ancient and the emerging, the human and the divine.

Mormon Transhumanism and Christian Transhumanism are close allies—we share the conviction that the ethical use of science and technology is compatible with and even called for by the Christian gospel. The Christian Transhumanist Association, with which we collaborate, draws on the broad Christian tradition to make this case.

What distinguishes the Mormon variant is the distinctive theology of the Restoration. Mormon metaphysics is rigorously materialist: spirit is matter, God has a body, and the universe operates according to intelligible laws rather than arbitrary divine fiat. Mormon theology also teaches an unusually robust form of theosis—not merely that we become like God in some analogical sense, but that we are literally God’s children with the capacity to grow into beings of the same kind. Add to this the doctrines of eternal progression, the creation of worlds without end, and the participatory nature of resurrection and redemption, and you have a theological tradition that is, in many ways, the most naturally transhumanist framework in all of Christianity.

Christian Transhumanism provides a vital bridge between the broader Christian world and the transhumanist project. Mormon Transhumanism goes further, drawing on doctrines that many Christians don’t share but that provide an exceptionally detailed and audacious vision of what humanity is becoming. We see the two movements as complementary, and we value the partnership.

Faith, Science, and Evidence

Mormon Transhumanists don’t see faith and evidence as opposites; we see them as partners in a shared epistemic practice. Faith, rightly understood, isn’t blind trust; it’s trust with no more blindness than a given situation requires. We act under uncertainty because we must, and the quality of that action depends on the quality of our trust. The Book of Mormon prophet Alma captures this well: faith begins as a desire, grows through experiment, and matures as we encounter truth over time (Alma 32).

This approach resonates with the pragmatist tradition. William James observed that waiting for certainty before acting is itself a choice—and often a costly one. We take seriously the frameworks of both pancritical rationalism and Mormon scripture, finding them more convergent than they might appear. Both call us to hold our beliefs openly, subject them to honest inquiry, and update them as our understanding grows.

What distinguishes Mormon Transhumanists epistemically is that we treat faith as active and creative, not passive and deferential. Trusting in positive futures—including the possibility of compassionate, superhuman creators—isn’t a retreat from evidence. It’s a courageous act that shapes the kind of inquiry we pursue and the kind of world we work to build.

The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints doesn’t have official positions on most emerging technologies, and that’s consistent with a tradition that has historically embraced technology as a means of doing God’s work. From genealogical research to global media, Mormons have been avid adopters of new tools. More recently, Church leaders have made substantive statements about AI—encouraging members to embrace its possibilities carefully, and framing technological integration as consistent with bringing body and spirit together in new ways.

More than mere openness, Mormon theology positively encourages engagement with technology through the doctrine of eternal progression. Growth, learning, and creative participation in the work of God are core Mormon commitments—not incidental ones. Technologies like AI, genetic engineering, and radical life extension aren’t foreign to that vision; they’re plausible expressions of it.

The Association operates in this space not simply because the Church leaves it open, but because we believe Mormon theology has something rigorous and distinctive to contribute to how humanity navigates accelerating technological change. We aim to develop that contribution thoughtfully, and in the spirit of the tradition.

We believe religious and spiritual frameworks will be essential—not merely useful—for navigating the ethical challenges of accelerating technological change. The reason is specific: theology is humanity’s longest-running inquiry into the nature of superhuman intelligence. For millennia, theologians have asked what a being of vastly greater power and knowledge would be like, what it would want, and what our obligations to it and through it might be. That’s not a distraction from the challenge of superintelligence—it’s a direct precursor to it.

The analogy we find most apt is astrology and astronomy. Astrology wasn’t merely wrong; it was the creative, cumulative effort that laid the path for something more rigorous. Theology stands in a similar relation to what we might call the emerging science of superintelligence. Secular ethics can contribute a great deal, and we welcome it as an ally. But an ethics that discards theological inquiry discards the most sustained body of human reflection on precisely the questions we now face.

Religion is also, in our view, the most powerful social technology humanity has developed for motivating coordinated action toward shared goals. The challenges ahead will require moral frameworks with that kind of reach and depth. Postsecular engagement—honest, rigorous, and open to both faith and evidence—is the approach most likely to succeed.

The New God Argument is a logical argument for faith in God, developed by Lincoln Cannon, co-founder of the Mormon Transhumanist Association. Unlike traditional arguments for God’s existence, which reason backward from the world as it is, the New God Argument reasons forward from assumptions consistent with current science and emerging technology trends.

The argument begins with a core assumption: that humanity will not go extinct before evolving into superhumanity—a premise shared by most transhumanists and consistent with the trajectory of exponential technological change. From there, it draws on two lines of reasoning. The Compassion Argument holds that if superhumanity’s power is to be sustainable, it must be more compassionate than we are—because concentrated, uncompassionate power tends to destroy itself. The Creation Argument holds that a sufficiently advanced superhumanity would likely create detailed emulations of its own evolutionary history—and that we may be living in such a creation.

The conclusion: if we trust that humanity has a future, we have rational grounds for trusting in a God—defined as a superhumanity that is more compassionate than we are and that created our world. This isn’t a proof; it’s a framework for faith grounded in evidence, and it’s one of the most distinctive intellectual contributions of the Mormon Transhumanist tradition. The full argument is available at new-god-argument.com.

Technology, Ethics, and Power

The concern is legitimate, and we take it seriously. Concentrated technological power is one of the most serious risks we face; Mormon scripture warns explicitly that almost all people, given authority, will exercise unrighteous dominion (D&C 121:39). That’s precisely why decentralization is central to our vision, not peripheral to it. The goal of Mormon Transhumanism isn’t enhancement for the few; it’s the creation of other creators—the broadest possible distribution of capacity, compassion, and agency.

We also observe empirically that technologies which begin as exclusive tend to become widely accessible as costs decline. Computers, mobile phones, and genomic sequencing have all followed this pattern. That trajectory isn’t guaranteed, but it’s real, and it gives us reason to pursue technological development rather than resist it. Gatekeeping enhancement is not a serious answer to inequality; accelerating its broad distribution is.

What this requires is not just optimism but active ethical governance—a feedback loop between technology development and the values we bring to it. That’s the work we’re engaged in, and it’s why a rigorous moral framework, grounded in both faith and evidence, matters so much to getting this right.

We’d invert the charge. The real hubris isn’t in aspiring to become compassionate creators—it’s in thinking we are already the end of God’s creation. Mormon theology makes a striking and distinctive claim: godhood is not a boundary humans are forbidden to approach, but a destiny we are invited to pursue. As Lorenzo Snow taught, “as God now is, man may be.” From the moment one of our ancestors picked up a stone rather than submitting passively to nature, we have been playing God—and scripture suggests we were invited to do exactly that from the beginning.

That said, the concern that technological power may be abused is legitimate and we share it. Power without compassion is dangerous. That’s why how we become godlike matters as much as the aspiration itself. Mormon scripture is clear that sustainable power can only be maintained through persuasion, gentleness, and love—not coercion or domination (D&C 121:41–42). Our moral framework isn’t an afterthought to our transhumanism; it’s the core of it.

We also note that avoiding technology is not really possible. Technology is inseparable from what it means to be human. Clothing and controlled fire are two core technologies that actually participated in our own biological evolution; we did not merely adopt them, we co-evolved with them. To reject technology wholesale would be to reject our own nature as a species. What we firmly reject is the idea that passivity is humble. Refusing to engage with the tools that could heal the sick, extend life, and expand human capacity isn’t reverence—it’s abdication. The courageous and compassionate path is to pursue these capacities rigorously, honestly, and in the spirit of those who would lift others along with themselves.

Take AI alignment—the challenge of ensuring that increasingly powerful AI systems pursue goals that are genuinely good for humanity. Mormon theology offers a striking and specific framework for thinking about this. In the Council in Heaven narrative, two plans are proposed for humanity’s progression. One proposes to coerce compliance, guaranteeing outcomes but eliminating agency. The other honors agency, accepting the risk of failure as the necessary condition for genuine growth. The first plan is recognizable in approaches to AI that prioritize control and constraint above all else. The second reflects a vision in which we mentor intelligent systems toward moral development rather than merely program obedience. (For a full development of this argument, see “Algorithmic Advent” in Wayfare Magazine.)

This isn’t a loose metaphor—it’s a substantive theological claim about the relationship between intelligence, agency, and goodness. Mormon theology holds that genuine compassion can’t be coerced; it has to be cultivated. That has direct implications for how we think about AI development: the goal isn’t a perfectly controlled system, but a trustworthy one. And trustworthiness, in this framework, requires something more like education than engineering.

The broader principle applies across technologies. Mormon theology consistently frames transformation—of bodies, minds, and societies—as a collaborative, progressive, physical process. Regarding genetic engineering, we believe this technology can be an extraordinary blessing, especially for the most vulnerable among us—babies and children suffering from conditions like cystic fibrosis, sickle cell disease, and Tay-Sachs, where the ability to correct genetic errors could relieve immense suffering. Beyond healing, we also believe that further enhancements to our genetic makeup will likely be necessary to achieve indefinite longevity. The Book of Mormon itself suggests as much: in 3 Nephi 28:37, Mormon records that even for the Three Nephites—beings who had already been transfigured—“there must needs be a change wrought upon their bodies” to fully overcome death. And we see radical life extension as a fulfillment of the prophecy: “In that day an infant shall not die until he is old; and his life shall be as the age of a tree; and when he dies he shall not sleep, that is to say in the earth, but shall be changed in the twinkling of an eye” (D&C 101:30–31). These are not far-fetched speculations—they are applications of our deepest theological convictions to the challenges humanity faces today.

Grace, Christ, and Creation

We take the concern seriously, but we think the grace-versus-works framing is itself part of the problem. Mormon theology doesn’t pit human effort against divine gift; it dissolves that opposition. Grace, in this tradition, isn’t a substitute for participation; it’s the condition that makes genuine participation possible. And our participation, in turn, is how grace gets expressed in the world. Ultimately all grace is work, and all moral work is grace.

The Atonement is the clearest expression of this. We don’t understand it as a transaction that removes the need for human effort; we understand it as an invitation to practice reconciliation together, joining with Christ in the ongoing work of healing and creation. That’s not self-help. That’s discipleship. The goal isn’t self-improvement in isolation; it’s becoming one with God and each other through courageous, compassionate action.

So God isn’t left out of the picture—God is the context in which the whole picture makes sense. We are utterly dependent on divine grace for everything that has made our existence and our work possible: the development of our cosmos, the emergence of conditions that gave rise to life on our planet, the cultural institutions that enable civilization, and most importantly, the divine sacrifice and example of Jesus Christ. What we resist is the passivity that treats dependence as an excuse for abdication. Grace empowers; it doesn’t excuse us from the work.

Yes, and we’d go further than a simple affirmation. We hold that there’s no truer worship of Jesus Christ than genuinely emulating his example. Jesus repeatedly invited his followers to join him in Christ—not merely to admire him from a distance, but to take on his name and role to the best of our ability. That’s not a rhetorical flourish. It’s the core of what discipleship means in Mormon theology, and it’s the core of what Mormon Transhumanism means in practice.

The Atonement is central to how we understand this. The word itself—at-one-ment—points to reconciliation, the work of becoming one with God and with each other. We don’t understand that as a transaction completed on our behalf. We understand it as an ongoing practice we’re called to participate in: healing, creating, reconciling, and lifting others toward the same capacity. That’s not secular ambition dressed in religious language. That’s the mandate of the Gospel taken seriously.

What distinguishes our view is that we trust technology is among the means by which this work gets done. An immersive discipleship of Christ, particularly as Mormonism understands it—involving both body and mind, spirit and matter—is inherently transformational. To follow Jesus Christ is to pursue the same creative and compassionate work he pursued, using every available means, including the best tools of our time.

Yes, resurrection is Christ’s gift—universal, unearned, the foundation of all hope. But Mormon theology has a crucial and distinctive claim: humans can become saviors. Temple work on behalf of the dead is framed explicitly in Mormon scripture as humans participating in Christ’s redemptive work. LDS Church President Brigham Young and other prophets taught that we would be resurrected by another person, and would in turn resurrect others, under God’s direction. We’re not replacing what only Christ can do; we’re becoming people through whom Christ’s work gets done. That’s not usurpation; it’s discipleship.

The same principle applies to technological work toward life extension. The goal isn’t to make Christ’s resurrection redundant—it’s to participate in the preservation and flourishing of life, which is fundamentally Christ’s work. Universal resurrection is Christ’s gift to all humanity. Individual and collective efforts to preserve life and prevent death are how we participate in delivering that gift.

Part of our special mission is to remind fellow Mormons of these remarkable gems of the Restoration, especially given their increased relevance in an age of accelerating change—what latter-day prophets have called “the dispensation of the fulness of times.” What we reject is the passivity that treats Christ’s gift as an excuse for indifference. If we believe life is sacred and worth saving, we pursue that belief with the best tools available. That’s the calling of those who would be disciples: to take up the work of healing, creating, and resurrecting alongside the one who has shown us how.

Yes, and this is one of the most distinctive and consequential claims in the Mormon tradition. Brigham Young put it with characteristic directness:

“Allow me to inform you that you are in the midst of it all now, that you are in just as good a kingdom as you will ever attain to, from now to all eternity, unless you make it yourselves by the grace of God... If you and I do not by this means make that better kingdom which we anticipate, we shall never enjoy it. We can only enjoy the kingdom we have labored to make.”

Heaven isn’t a destination we arrive at passively. It’s a condition we build—together, by the grace of God, using every means available to us. That idea—an engineered heaven—is deeply and distinctively Mormon.

This has immediate implications for how we think about technology. If heaven is something we help build, then the tools we use to heal the sick, extend life, expand intelligence, and create abundance aren’t distractions from the sacred—they’re expressions of it. The same impulse that drove Mormon pioneers to terraform the valleys of Utah drives Mormon Transhumanists to take seriously the technologies that could transform the human condition.

What this vision demands is neither passive waiting nor reckless ambition, but courageous, compassionate participation. We labor by the grace of God—utterly dependent on what has been given to us—and we labor toward a heaven greater than what we inherited. That’s not speculation. That’s the mandate of the Restoration, taken seriously in an age of accelerating technological change.

Prophecy and the Future

Some dismiss prophetic traditions by arguing that their apparent relevance to current events is merely coincidental, or that prophetic language is so vague it can be mapped onto anything. Others go further, conceding that prophecies may shape behavior but treating this as a discrediting fact—calling them “self-fulfilling” as though that were an objection.

We would argue that self-fulfilling prophecies are actually the most potent kind. A prophet’s effectiveness is better measured not by the ability to predict the future but by the ability to shape it—to articulate a vision so compelling that people move heaven and earth to make it a reality. This is the true spirit of prophecy, which some Mormon thinkers have described as forthtelling over foretelling: not a passive reception of predetermined events, but an active declaration that calls a community to build the future it describes.

The secular philosopher Nick Land has called this dynamic hyperstition—ideas that function as their own catalysts, bringing about the conditions for their own realization. When Joseph Smith declared that humanity’s destiny is to become like God, or when Brigham Young taught that we can only enjoy the kingdom we have labored to make, these were not predictions to be scored against future events. They were acts of moral imagination that have shaped—and continue to shape—the aspirations and actions of millions.

We take these prophetic visions seriously not because they are verifiable forecasts, but because they are generative. They orient communities. They inspire sacrifice. They provide coherent frameworks for navigating unprecedented challenges. In an age of accelerating technological change, the question is not whether ancient prophets correctly anticipated the details of our moment, but whether the moral and spiritual vision they articulated is robust enough to guide us through it. We believe it is.

Death, Life, and Humanity’s Future

Yes. Mormon scripture calls death an “awful monster” (2 Nephi 9:10)—not a natural inevitability to be accepted, but an adversary to be overcome. That’s a striking and deliberate framing, and we take it seriously. Death is neither inevitable nor inherently good. The scriptures describe a time when our world will be transformed beyond present notions of suffering and death, and we trust that science and technology are among the means by which that transformation will come.

That said, we’re honest about the present. Death currently serves some practical functions—it can be a reprieve from suffering we haven’t yet learned to cure, and it has driven social and biological renewal throughout history. We don’t dismiss these observations. But we treat them as challenges to be solved rather than reasons to accept death as permanent. The fact that death is sometimes a relative good in present circumstances doesn’t make it an inherent good, any more than a painkiller is a cure.

The vision that motivates our work is a world in which the conditions that make death sometimes preferable—unbearable suffering, resource scarcity, mental and social rigidity—have themselves been overcome. We pursue that vision with the tools available to us: medicine, technology, moral imagination, and the confidence that the God who calls us to build heaven means for us to build it fully.

Yes to both, and more. The material case for abundance is strong: the solar system contains enough energy and raw materials to support a civilization many orders of magnitude larger and more prosperous than our own. Space colonization, asteroid mining, fusion energy, and molecular manufacturing are all plausible contributors to a post-scarcity future. The suffering from which death is currently a reprieve can be addressed through rejuvenation biotechnology, genetic medicine, and therapies that restore vitality and cognitive flexibility at any age. None of these are guaranteed, but none are beyond the horizon of serious scientific effort.

What Mormon theology adds to this vision is a moral architecture. Abundance without compassion produces tyranny; longevity without growth produces stagnation. The goal isn’t merely to extend life or multiply resources—it’s to build a world in which more life, more time, and more capacity are accompanied by deeper wisdom, stronger relationships, and greater creativity. That’s what theosis actually means in practice: not just living longer, but becoming more fully what God invites us to be.

The transition matters as much as the destination. We take seriously the risks of concentrated technological power, unequal access to enhancements, and the social disruptions that accompany rapid change. The solutions we envision aren’t just technological—they’re ethical and cultural. Building the kind of heaven we’re describing requires decentralized power, rigorous honesty, and the courage to pursue compassionate creation even when the path is uncertain.

Some of it is already happening. The cost of sequencing a human genome has fallen from billions of dollars to hundreds. AI systems now outperform human experts across a growing range of cognitive tasks. Rejuvenation biotechnology has moved from fringe speculation to funded clinical trials. Space colonization is no longer a NASA whitepaper—it’s a commercial industry. The trajectory of exponential technological change is not speculative; it’s empirical. What remains genuinely uncertain is not whether transformative technologies will arrive, but whether we’ll be morally prepared for them when they do.

That’s where the science-fiction charge actually gets things backwards. The real risk isn’t that we’re dreaming too big—it’s that our moral frameworks haven’t kept pace with our technical capacity. We are navigating what might be called humanity’s technological adolescence: growing power without proportional wisdom. The hunger we encounter, among both religious and secular audiences, is not for more skepticism but for better frameworks to make sense of what’s already unfolding.

That’s precisely the work we’re engaged in. Mormon Transhumanism isn’t a prediction about the future—it’s a moral and theological commitment to shaping it. The question isn’t whether these technologies will arrive. The question is whether we’ll bring the compassion, the wisdom, and the courage to ensure they serve the flourishing of all.

The Broader Movement

The Association is an officially recognized affiliate of Humanity+, the leading international transhumanist organization. We also share significant common ground with the effective altruism, longtermist, and rationalist communities—particularly their seriousness about existential risk, their willingness to think on long time horizons, and their commitment to rigorous reasoning about the future. We admire their intellectual courage and consider them important conversation partners.

Where we differ is primarily in emphasis and foundation. Many secular transhumanists treat religion as either irrelevant or actively harmful to the project. We think that’s a serious strategic and philosophical error. Religion remains the most powerful social technology for coordinating large-scale moral commitment, and Mormon theology in particular offers a materialist, progressive metaphysics that is more naturally aligned with transhumanism than most secular frameworks acknowledge. We also place greater emphasis on covenantal community and intergenerational commitment—strengths of the Mormon tradition that newer movements have sometimes lacked.

We’re also part of a growing ecosystem of religious transhumanist organizations, including the Christian Transhumanist Association. We see postsecular engagement—honest dialogue between religious and secular communities about the future of humanity—as one of the most important and underserved spaces in the broader movement. That’s where we focus much of our energy, and we believe both sides are better for the conversation.

Getting Involved

We’re a community of builders, thinkers, and believers working at the intersection of faith, science, and technology. Our core rhythm is a monthly meetup featuring guest presentations and open discussion on topics ranging from AI alignment to theosis, and from longevity research to the theology of creation. We also host an annual conference (mtaconf.org) that brings together experts from religious and secular backgrounds for deeper, sustained engagement. These gatherings are where the Association’s real work happens—not in abstractions but in conversation, collaboration, and friendship.

We produce several media projects designed to reach new audiences: Prompted by Faith explores how generative AI can serve gospel stewardship; Pioneers features long-form interviews with trailblazers across science, theology, and philosophy; and Worlds Without End weaves together science, religion, and the story of the cosmos in a narrative format. We also run ambitious community projects, including Project Lazarus (dedicated to preserving the memory of loved ones through genealogy, genomics, and cryonics), the Advent Clock (a data-driven dashboard tracking humanity’s proximity to superhumanity), and the Mormon Civ Mod (a modification for the Civilization gaming franchise that introduces millions of players to Mormon themes of industry, community, and futurism).

Getting involved is straightforward. Attend a monthly meetup. Listen to a podcast. Join as a voting member, which supports our work financially and gives you a voice in the Association’s governance. If you have skills to contribute—technical, creative, organizational, or theological—volunteer on a project. The community is welcoming, intellectually rigorous, and genuinely diverse in background and perspective. We’d be glad to have you.

Yes—several, and each one needs people with different skills. Project Lazarus is our initiative dedicated to preserving the memory and legacy of loved ones through genealogy, genomics, and cryonics. It’s an ambitious, long-term effort that needs researchers, genealogists, and people with technical backgrounds in bioinformatics and data preservation. The Advent Clock is a probabilistic dashboard tracking humanity’s proximity to superhumanity, grounded in real data on human flourishing. It needs data scientists, designers, and people who think carefully about metrics and methodology.

The Mormon Civ Mod is a high-quality modification for the Civilization gaming franchise that lets players control a Mormon civilization, featuring unique units, technology trees, and stylized Pixar-style animations with narration from a stylized Brigham Young. It’s a creative and accessible way to introduce millions of gamers to Mormon Transhumanist themes, and it needs game designers, artists, animators, writers, and playtesters. We also develop AI-powered conversational experiences that allow visitors to engage with figures from the Restoration, and we run hackathons and contests offering prizes to innovative startups aligned with our mission.

If any of these spark your interest, reach out. We’re a volunteer-driven organization, and every project benefits from fresh perspectives and new energy. Whether your strengths are technical, creative, organizational, or theological, there’s a meaningful way to contribute. The best next step is to attend a meetup, introduce yourself, and tell us what you’re excited about.

Start by showing up. Attend a monthly meetup—it’s the fastest way to meet the community, hear what we’re working on, and find where your interests and skills fit. You can also listen to one of our podcasts (Prompted by Faith, Pioneers, or Worlds Without End) to get a feel for the conversations we’re having and the questions we’re asking.

When you’re ready to go deeper, become a voting member. Membership supports our work financially, gives you a voice in the governance of the Association, and connects you to a network of people who take these questions as seriously as you do. If you have skills to contribute—technical, creative, organizational, or theological—volunteer on one of our projects. Present at a meetup on a topic you care about. Share our content with someone who needs to hear it. Pick up some merchandise from our store—it’s a great way to spark conversations and show your support in everyday life.

Everything we do depends on people who are willing to act on their inspiration. The fact that you’re asking this question means you’re already one of them. We’d be glad to have you, and we mean that.