Carl Sagan once promised that science would act as a candle in the dark and chase away the demons of religion. The candle burned brighter. The darkness got bigger. Nearly a century of better telescopes and more precise measurements has left physicists staring at a cosmos where 95 percent of everything remains completely invisible and unexplained. That is the central fact of modern cosmology, and it undercuts the old secular boast that every mystery would eventually surrender to materialist methods.
Michael Guillén knows the story from the inside. The Harvard-trained physicist who spent fourteen years as science editor at ABC News grew up with the same wonder most of us did. A Christmas microscope turned a drop of pond water into a swarm of living things. A first look through a telescope made the moon’s craters feel close enough to touch.
Those moments felt like victory. Science was lifting the veil. What followed, as Guillén notes in a Fox News opinion piece, was something the optimists never predicted.
In 1933 Fritz Zwicky used the Hooker telescope at Mount Wilson to study galaxy clusters. The galaxies were moving far too fast for the visible mass to hold them together. Roughly ten times more mass was required. Zwicky called the missing stuff dunkle materie, dark matter. It exerts gravity. It does not emit or reflect light. Nearly a hundred years later, physicists still have no idea what it is. They have catalogs of clever theories. None of them rest on direct observation of the substance itself.
The same telescope that revealed the expansion of the universe in 1929 later helped expose an even stranger fact. In 1998 two independent teams showed that the expansion is accelerating, not slowing. Something repulsive is pushing space apart.
Cosmologist Michael Turner named it dark energy. Like dark matter, it remains a placeholder for ignorance. Together the two account for about 95 percent of the observable cosmos. Everything our instruments can actually see and measure is the remaining 5 percent.
The whole of science — all its experiments, all its theories, the entirety of what it claims to understand about our demon-haunted world — is based on a measly five percent of what’s real.
Guillén’s point is not that science has failed. It is that science has succeeded at revealing its own limits. Every new instrument that promised to demystify the universe has instead expanded the territory of the unknown. The more we resolve the small and the near, the larger the unseen becomes. That pattern does not look like the steady march toward a fully material explanation. It looks like a universe whose deeper structure was never meant to be exhausted by instruments.
For generations the public was told that religion thrived only in the gaps of knowledge and would shrink as those gaps closed. The gaps have not closed. They have grown. Dark matter and dark energy are not temporary placeholders awaiting a neat particle or field. They dominate the cosmic budget, and the leading candidates for what they might be remain untested or untestable with current methods. The claim that “science has explained the universe” now requires an asterisk the size of the observable cosmos itself.
Scripture has long described the same situation in different language. “For now we see through a glass, darkly.”
The verse is not a plea to stop looking. It is an accurate description of the human condition. We see enough to know order, beauty, and fine-tuning exist. We do not see enough to pretend the order explains itself. The same instruments that once seemed destined to retire faith have instead made the older claim of a Creator who hides much of His work from view look more, not less, reasonable.
Guillén’s own path from atheism to Christianity did not require him to abandon the data. It required him to stop insisting that the data could only be read through a materialist lens. The 95 percent problem is simply the latest and largest illustration of that choice.
You can treat dark matter and dark energy as temporary technical difficulties that future labs will solve. Or you can notice that the more carefully we measure creation, the more it refuses to reduce to what we can touch and photograph. One reading keeps the old secular script intact. The other admits that the script was never written by the evidence.
Bypass Big Tech Censors
Two Storms, One Harvest
Every food crisis in living memory has been a one-shock event. The 2008 price spike was a commodity bubble. The 2020 shortages were a logistics failure. The 2022 grain scare was a war on one exporter’s ports. Each time, the system bent, adjusted, and recovered, and each time the experts assured us afterward that global markets are simply too big and too diversified to fail.
What nobody in Washington seems eager to discuss is that 2026 is shaping up to be something the modern food system has never actually faced. Two independent shocks, one climatic and one geopolitical, are converging on the same harvest cycle at the same time. Not sequentially. Simultaneously.
Start with the weather. The Pacific Ocean is currently building toward what forecasters now openly call a record event. NOAA’s Climate Prediction Center puts the odds of at least a strong El Niño near 88 percent, with roughly two in three odds it reaches “very strong” status, the tier reserved for perhaps three or four events in the entire satellite era. Every major global model now projects a median peak in Super El Niño territory, and most of them project it exceeding the 2015-16 event, which until now held the modern record. Sea surface anomalies were already brushing the super threshold in mid-July, months before these events normally peak. The atmosphere has already shifted into El Niño mode, and the event is forecast to crest in late fall and early winter.
This is not about “climate change.” It’s about the standard cycles of weather, and the cycle we’re currently in is one that has likely devastated societies in the past. We’re better prepared as a society today, but not all Americans are equally prepared.
Serious households have started doing the quiet math on their own. Grocery bills tell part of the story, and the forecast maps tell the rest, which is why long-term food storage has moved from fringe hobby to mainstream line item in the family budget, with established suppliers like Heaven’s Harvest seeing demand from people who five years ago would have rolled their eyes at the idea. That instinct is not paranoia. It is pattern recognition, and the pattern is worth walking through carefully.
Editor’s Note: Heaven’s Harvest IS a sponsor, but the warnings of this article are real and would be written even if we didn’t have a survival food sponsor. With that said, those who take advantage of what they offer can use promo code “Patriot” for 15% off.
The Fertilizer Clock Is Already Running
While the Pacific warms, the second shock has been unfolding in the Strait of Hormuz. The conflict with Iran turned the world’s most important energy chokepoint into a contested waterway, and the consequences reach far beyond the gas pump. Roughly a third of global fertilizer trade moves through Hormuz, and the disruption sent urea prices up 86 percent year over year by March, with a 53 percent jump in a single month.
The World Bank projects energy prices rising about 24 percent in 2026 and fertilizer about 31 percent. By its own accounting, fertilizer prices ran 35 percent higher in the first five months of this year than the same period last year.
Here is the mechanism the nightly news will not explain. Fertilizer is not a grocery item. It is a time-delayed input. The nitrogen a farmer in Iowa or Punjab could not afford to apply this spring does not show up as a problem this spring. It shows up as a thinner harvest six to twelve months later.
The World Bank’s own food security brief concedes that the effects of reduced applications earlier this season “are likely to become visible only later in harvest outcomes.” Translate that from institutional language into plain English and it means this. The damage is already done, it is already in the ground, and we are simply waiting for it to arrive on the shelf.
Now check the calendar. Six to twelve months from the spring planting season lands us squarely in late 2026 and early 2027. Which is precisely when the strongest El Niño in the instrumental record is forecast to peak, bringing its signature droughts to Southeast Asia, Australia, southern Africa, northern Brazil, and South Asia, the very regions that grow the world’s rice, sugar, and oilseeds.
The World Bank warns openly that a strong El Niño “could disrupt multiple crop belts simultaneously” on top of the conflict-driven input costs. Their baseline projection assumes the Middle East disruptions ease by autumn. What in the last two years of Middle East history suggests that assumption is safe?
The System Has No Slack Left
The comfortable answer is that global markets always adjust. But adjustment requires slack, and the slack is gone. Global cereal production is expected to decline from last year’s records even before El Niño does its work. The UN World Food Programme, hardly a den of right-wing preppers, is calling this the most significant disruption to its supply chains since Covid and the invasion of Ukraine, and its supply chain director put the stakes bluntly.
Today’s supply chain challenges are tomorrow’s hunger crisis.
There is also a political dimension that markets cannot price. When food gets scarce, governments do not behave like economists. They behave like politicians. Export bans, hoarding mandates, and panic buying at the national level turned the modest rice shortfall of 2008 into a global crisis, and analysts are already warning that import-dependent nations are the first dominoes.
The 2015-16 Super El Niño, a far weaker event than what is now forecast, threw tens of millions into food stress across Africa and Asia. This one is projected to be stronger, and it arrives with fertilizer already rationed by price and shipping lanes already contested by missiles.
What Joseph Knew
Scripture does not treat preparation for lean years as faithlessness. It treats it as wisdom delivered in advance to those willing to act on it.
Behold, there come seven years of great plenty throughout all the land of Egypt: And there shall arise after them seven years of famine; and all the plenty shall be forgotten in the land of Egypt.
Joseph did not respond to that warning with a hashtag or a committee. He stored grain during the years of abundance, and when the famine came, Egypt stood while its neighbors begged. The lesson is not that famine is certain. It is that the time to prepare is precisely when preparation still looks optional.
Nobody who filled a pantry in a year of plenty has ever regretted it, and nobody standing in an empty aisle has ever been glad he waited for certainty.
None of this calls for panic, and panic is the enemy of sound judgment anyway. It calls for the same unglamorous prudence our grandparents considered ordinary. Keep some cash margin, know your local growers, and put real food in deep storage while it is cheap and available, because the entire arc of this story is that cheap and available is a closing window.
Families looking for a straightforward place to start can visit Heaven’s Harvest and use promo code Patriot for 15 percent off long-term storable food. The forecasts may yet soften, the strait may yet reopen, and we should pray they do. But hope is a fine thing to hold and a foolish thing to eat.
