In the late 2000s, my husband David and I were living in Murfreesboro, Tennessee—my hometown and the geographical center of the state. We had left Somerville, Massachusetts, a few days after my graduation from Harvard Divinity School (because we could not afford one more month’s rent there!) and were working to pay off student loans and a car debt. Our starter home sat only one mile from my childhood home, both on former farmland. Across the street was another large farm, whose heirs were looking to make a big change.
Bible Park USA had been pitched by New York-based entrepreneurs to the elderly Christian landowner as his final opportunity to share the Gospel message with the world. This “edutainment” destination would hold spaces that looked like ancient Jerusalem and an amphitheater that would host plays and musicians. Being in the “Bible Belt” of the southern United States, the developers wrongly thought the rural residents would welcome the traffic, lights, and noise associated with a theme park that, they claimed, would not proselytize but would offer “fearful” Americans the opportunity to experience the Middle East without going there.
Less than a decade after Bible Park USA was ousted from Murfreesboro, the Ark Encounter opened four-and-a-half hours north on farmland in Williamstown, Kentucky. It was built in 2016 by Answers in Genesis and describes itself as “a full-size Noah’s ark, built according to the dimensions given in the Bible.” It is actually a massive concrete-and-metal building that looks like the ark on one side and is surrounded by a small “zoo” and many pay-to-play ziplines and adventurous attractions. It very much exists to proselytize.
David and I had heard mixed reviews, everything from, “It’s amazing, and I’m buying a season pass!” to, “Its existence is an embarrassment to Southerners and Christians.” While writing my next book (Title TBA, Revell, September 2025), I decided I needed to visit and determine the theme park’s value for myself.
On the most perfect, blue-skied April day of 2024, we arrived at the Ark Encounter alongside one busload of students, a few families, and hundreds of retirees. The structure is spectacular in scale, both inside and outside, and so I scanned my pass with an open mind, genuinely wanting it to be more “amazing” than “embarrassment.”
At first I was in awe of the space, but soon I noticed anachronisms everywhere: the pithoi (large storage jars) strapped to the walls are Bronze- and Iron-Age inspired, but the hanging “oil” lamps throughout the building feature Roman glass. Both surround the featured exhibits: dozens of cages displaying obscure dinosaur models being sustained by giant hamster-style feeders and water bottles.
Moving up the decks, vignettes and storyboards illustrate their vision of the antediluvian world. Members of Noah’s family have fictional backstories and are shown living in luxurious cabins, working with Iron Age tools, and collecting Hellenistic scrolls. Dinosaurs, giants, and slaves battle in a medieval-style arena while scantily-clad archers in Prussian spiked helmets secure the festivities.
I kept looking for footnotes on the didactic wall panels that might explain why millennia of archaeological evidence was being backdated and condensed. Upon entering, a large sign explained that “significant amounts of artistic license” had been employed, but on what actual history—or Scripture—was all that fiction based? I saw only one footnote (which was self-referential) in the whole structure, and so I went back to the Welcome Center. Surely they had lists of citations for nerds such as me wanting to better understand what inspired the Ark Encounter? Alas, no.
As we continued ascending the decks of the building, it became clear that “nerds such as me” who have spent our lives studying the Bible, its languages, and ancient civilizations to better understand God’s Scripture in its original context do not fit the Ark Encounter’s definition of Christian. On panels titled “One World Two Views,” archaeologists are mocked as atheists and Darwinian evolutionists only because we don’t agree that this planet is only 6,000 years old.
On those upper decks, dates were finally used. Since the 1970s (and much earlier for Jewish scholars), archaeologists and most theologians have used BCE and CE, which mean “before the common era” and “common era,” when dating events. This dating system numerically matches the BC–AD dating system that was invented in the sixth century, mandated for government documents by Holy Roman Emperor Charlemagne in the ninth century, and popularized by Pope Gregory XIII’s calendar in the sixteenth century. (It also happens to be incorrect, as Jesus was born several years before AD 1 according to the Gospels of Matthew and Luke.)
I expected to see lots of BC and AD, but the Ark Encounter’s dating system was unique. They dated events in YA (years ago), placing Creation at 6000 YA and their single Ice Age at 4400 YA. I guessed this was in an attempt to make their claims seem not-quite-as young and to avoid comparisons to historical chronologies. Obvious contradictions to their timeline—such as Stonehenge’s date of creation and core samples from Mesopotamia—were simply left out.
And in case someone noticed the flaws, they would be distracted by other ideas: “Why do so many scientists reject a massive flood on Earth while accepting one on Mars?” or “Capital Punishment: God stressed the value of human life by sanctioning the death penalty for acts of murder…”
Tired from four hours of climbing ramps, reading panels, and watching a bizarre news interview with Noah in two versions—”ancient” and modern—we sat outside under an umbrella for an hour and ate the truly delicious fudge they sell in the gift shop through which everyone exits. We wondered, why? Why was so much money thrown at this theme park and its sister attraction, the Creation Museum (which cost an adult couple $250 and isn’t all inclusive)? In such a “monumental” undertaking, why are historical timelines and physical artifacts ignored? Why were biblical archaeologists and Mesopotamian geologists not consulted?
As my husband would say, the “build quality” was outstanding, but the content was (as they stated at the entrance) more artistic than historical because Young Earth Creationists believe that millennia-worth of scientists’, theologians’, and linguists’ labors have been “bankrupt” (a word widely used on the parent company’s website). They interpret English translations of the Bible “literally,” and they leave no space for other Christians to disagree with them. They claim, “Where the Bible is silent or unclear, we don’t pretend to know more than we know or be divisive,” but they do and they are.
There are many Christian archaeologists, geologists, linguists, and (of course!) theologians. Few of them would agree with any claim made inside the Ark, and it isn’t because they reject Scripture. As a Christian who has devoted her adult life to studying the ancient world for the express purpose of better understanding the Bible and deepening her relationship with God, I am bothered by a “ministry” that seeks to sell Christians a shallow interpretation of Genesis, fill their minds with fictional images, and ignore actual history.
The Ark Encounter exists to support a narrow human interpretation of an English translation of the Bible. It calls most believers like me heretics, it makes a mockery of theology and the good conversations Christians might have over the Bible’s inherent mysteries, and it unnecessarily pits Scripture against scientific exploration. Those are the true problems with the Ark Encounter—not the anachronisms, gladiator fantasies, or exorbitant price tag.
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