Primal God
Within himself he remained, total mind and
pure spirit, having no sensation of sight, sound, or touch. Unaware of outside stimuli, he felt no need
for companionship. He had his thoughts;
all knowledge and wisdom had been forever his.
With nothing to see, hear, or feel, he had no need of senses. Unaware of hot or cold, he felt no
discomfort. Inside his infinite mind
lie the potential for ultimate creation or destruction. But in the beginning he was unaware of his
power. He was like a fetus encased
forever in a womb with no need to be born.
There was, for him no outside to view and no place to go. There was no top or bottom, north, south,
east, or west. There was no darkness or
light. It was an invisible world,
without dimension, physical perception, or time. And yet an identity filled him, carried from the beginning of
time.... He was God.... He had always been.... He would always be.
After
a billion more years had passed, he became aware also of a purpose: something
he must do. At first, he ignored this
purpose, because it had no meaning in his small, insignificant world. He felt secure and content here. He could while away eternity in the ambience
of his own thoughts. There was no
immediacy or import to being God. What
was so important that he must do?… When would he do it?… And how? These questions, having no apparent answer,
hung pointlessly in his mind, until a knowledge came to him that had also been
lying dormant since the beginning of time.... He had power!
What
did this mean?... How was he supposed to use it?... On what?... What was the
meaning of his identity and purpose?
Shrinking from these thoughts into the comfort of his void, God delayed
creation for another billion years.
But
the implications were unshakable. At
one fateful point in the infinitely tiny world that he knew, a feeling grew in
his mind: curiosity. From what recess
in his memory these thoughts originated, he couldn’t fathom. Perhaps, as everything else he knew, they
had always been. It didn’t matter....
They were there to stay and grew in importance as he contemplated himself. They were, mixed together now, a catalyst,
filling him with something that he knew about but didn’t often feel:
excitement. Thus, as a chain reaction,
knowledge of himself begat curiosity, curiosity begat excitement, excitement
begat desire, and desire begat temptation to test his unlimited power.
Was
it his purpose to use his power? He
wasn’t sure. How to use his power and
to what purpose was not yet evident in His mind. So he shrank into himself again, contemplating upon everything
that he knew so far, until, after another billion years slipped by, his curiosity
was too great to contain.
Without
further delay, he began experimenting with his thoughts. In his mind’s eye He could clearly see how
powerful he might be. The imagery,
though alien, showed entire galaxies set into motion by his command. But this was the dream world inside his
mind, not the real world that awaited him now.
Having only a mind to comprehend his task, he now created a body to act
as a reference point and input gatherer for his world. At this stage, it would become a primitive
sphere, incredibly dense but still invisible in the unseen void. Unsatisfied with this so far, he now gave
himself awareness of the outside world with sight, sound, and touch. Gazing out into the void now, He saw only
darkness and felt only his own mass.
For the first time in eternity, He could see his domain: nothingness,
stretching out before him into featureless black space. He was aware of an unfathomable silence in
the depths of space and was reminded that he was alone. Unable to see his own dark mass, filled with
His own Godhood now, he grew impatient.
A great and uncompromising loneliness filled Him as sat at the threshold
of time.
At this
point, time and space, matter and energy, darkness and light were the
same. There was no universe because it
had not been born. In this timeless
void all creation was centered into one point: singularity, the tiniest
microcosm that would ever exist. To
make it even more insignificant was the fact that it blended in with the
surrounding space: black on black, the total absence of light. So, after a brief pause, he made his
decision: it was time to use his power.
He must light the darkness. To
do this required only one word. So God,
having given himself a voice, uttered his first word in a whisper: Begin!
In less than a nanosecond, the moment of singularity passed, and the
plural universe was born. Ultimate
matter was detonated into the greatest explosion the cosmos would ever know in
the shortest interval of measurable time, an event that would one day be called
the Big Bang.
Time
had begun, and celestial mechanics were set into motion. All creation had been divided between
darkness and light. Darkness, as the
absence of light, had been defined by Himself, and all light, so ignited, would
continue to be an emanation of Himself.
For He was the light, and He was the Creation. Time, space, gravity, energy, and matter
were, in a sense, still one, as part of the living and expanding God.
The
primal universe became a testing ground for God’s power. Celestial mechanics, which would someday
boggle the mind, began simply as an explosion, moving in all directions in a
perfect and seemingly limitless sphere.
At first, there were no galaxies or stars. There could be no structure for matter with such energy in
motion. Atoms, electrons, and protons
were in their most elementary forms.
There was, during this primal universe, only the plasma thrown out by
the Big Bang. For several more seconds,
the infant Cosmos glowed from the great heat generated by the blast. The plasma surrounding the point of
detonation crackled from particle to particle, as would a great thunder sphere,
becoming fainter the further it traveled from the core into space, until,
ultimately, it ceased to glow entirely and began clumping into dense, spherical
clouds of gas.
For
an indeterminate period of time the Lord pondered upon his creation, unsure of
what to accomplish next. So far he had
created energy, matter, and light. Now,
by his infinite mind, the oldest clusters were being further defined into
smaller clumps of gas. As in mitosis,
but in reverse ratio, each cluster was divided into galaxies, and each galaxy
was divided into constellations, until billions of individual spheres circled
within their galaxies as the first dimly lit stars. During the creation of inanimate matter, God further divided the
atoms themselves from the plasma of the stars into denser elements: hydrogen
joined helium. From these two gasses,
solids, liquids, and all other gasses would take form. But for now, He was satisfied just to begin
lighting the firmament from its outer edge.
The pattern had been set. In the
opposite direction of its detonation, therefore, the universe took shape: the
coalescing of its gasses generating the electromagnetism and radiation required
for ignition. So that, as viewed from
afar, the celestial lamp began glowing from its outer edge inward, clusters
begetting galaxies, galaxies begetting stars, nuclear furnaces igniting, until,
the entire cosmos was lit by the Lord’s eternal light.
Afterwards,
ignoring the passage of time, God watched His plaything, as a child would focus
upon his reflection in a pond. For this
was indeed the face of God, as the Creator, burning with eternal and unyielding
light. But as a child with terrible and
unlimited power, He grew weary of the magnitude of it all. Surely there was more to His creation than
this. Something was missing in this
wondrous sight that, as yet, was only a vague dream.... Still the nagging
questions returned to him from the dreamtime when all creation waited in the
background of His thoughts.... Why was he here? What was his purpose? How
far should his creation now go?
Moving
indivisibly among his Creation now, he noticed that each cluster contained
millions of galaxies, and each galaxy contained billions of stars, but the
stars, themselves (save for the atoms making up their mass), were the last
units, beyond which, all else was cold, unlit space. Pulling out mass here and there, the Lord created planets that
would circle the chosen suns. Most
stars were ignored. Some were too
large, while others were too small. An
intermediate size star, which burned a steady yellow light, was chosen from
these systems, each system ranging from a few planets to several hundred. Each planet ranged in size from a tiny cloud
of gas to a giant mini-star with a nuclear furnace of its own. During this phase of creation, the Lord
experimented with matter, energy, and light.
The vast majority of the planets were not large enough to sustain
nuclear furnaces of their own.
Nevertheless they were, for several million years, microcosms of the
mother star. As great dust clouds
settled upon themselves, their dim light grew in intensity. As electromagnetic particles bombarded each
other, the primordial planets’ gravity caused the dust clouds to settle,
becoming denser the closer they came to the center of the cloud, until they
began to appear as planetary orbs. For several
million more years, these infant planets, reheated by their own
electromagnetism and the implosion of their own mass, took on appearances that
were vastly different than their mother star.
During their formation, the Lord transformed the basic elements of
hydrogen and helium into more stable forms of matter. These elements solidified slowly with each planet into beautiful
menageries of molten fountains and streams.
Excited by the potential of these sights but not sure which way to go,
the Lord allowed this natural process to run its course. Each planet, depending upon its distance
from its sun and the distance of its sun from the point of the Big Bang, cooled
slowly, becoming an inert satellite circling its sun. Electromagnetic fields within each planet continued to melt the
internal magma in certain isolated spots, but for the most part each planet
reflected a cold starlight. Those
planets nearest the edge of the universe, reflected the coldest light, while
those nearest the center, resembled more closely the original universe, in its
primal state. Ignoring the inner
clusters for several billion years, the Lord concentrated upon random planets,
which caught his eye.
During the second celestial day of Creation,
the Lord felt a new emotion grow inside him: loneliness. Before creating the Earth, which would
forever trouble His thoughts, God sought companionship among the stars. Several possibilities appeared in His
infinite mind, including spherical bodies, gaseous forms, and strange creatures
with all manner of appendage and contour.
It was then, as if an ancient purpose suddenly took hold, God created
Heaven, a place where He could oversee creation. He now gave Himself a peculiar form in which he could stroll
through his domain. Seeing the beauty
in this last creation, he duplicated His image a million fold, giving life to
each of the angels comprising the heavenly host. Each angel, carrying a portion of the Godhood, were as set pieces
of Creation.
At this stage in prehistory, there was
already a hierarchy in heaven. Satan,
however, the first angel created, stood alone as God’s favorite for a while,
swaggering around and boasting of his importance, until jealousy grew in the
ranks. Matters grew so serious that
Michael, Gabriel, Raphael, and Uriel, stepped forward to denounce him before
God. According to Michael, a spokesman
for his faction, Satan had compared himself to God. He had also criticized the Lord for not giving his angels more
power. Satan, speaking for a faction of
like-minded angels, had swayed nearly a quarter of the host to his side. They were created in God’s image and were
part of the Godhead, so why shouldn’t they share in Creation? Satan’s faction were expelled immediately
from heaven, a punitive action intended to prevent a civil war. While they were exiled indefinitely to
outposts at the far edges of space, God took Satan along during creation to
keep an eye on him, a deed that angered Michael’s faction that much more. Rumors filtered back to heaven that, to
placate the ambitious Satan, God was, instead of finding a remote outpost to
exile him, allowing him to create wonders on his own. It was not hard for Michael’s faction to imagine how this might
swell the archangel’s unfathomable ego and make him even more insufferable than
before. The Lord’s favorite angel,
though expelled from heaven, would soon believe that he too was a god.
Eons later, Saint John the Divine, in a
series of dreams, would misinterpret God’s words to mean that there had been a
war in heaven, but there had been no war.
A rebellion had begun. Though
strife had been averted, the universe had been populated with thousands of
disenfranchised angels, who would one day become adversaries against the
Lord. At this stage of creation,
however, Satan was still the favorite of God.
******
On a
medium sized world, recently cooled to a tolerable state, the Lord, with Satan
present, paused and allowed his archangel to make own display. At first Satan altered the planet’s surface
with a sudden shower of meteors that pock marked it until it bore little
resemblance to what it was before. This
act of destruction, not creation, was disappointing to God, and yet it
triggered an interesting response, which led to the correct chemical balance on
the world. After generating tremendous
heat, the crust began to boil forth magma at a steadily increasing rate. Loose in the atmosphere were several kinds
of gasses that would have been toxic to life yet would be basic for its
development later on. Carbon dioxide,
methane, and argon now swirled around the reforming planet, spewed from
volcanoes and fissures in the crust.
Molten metal and rock oozed over the young landscape, creating fiery
rivers and bubbling caldrons that would someday be standard in the depths of
hell. Great clouds of gasses coalesced
and bombarded each other, mixing the primal gasses while generating electricity
in the blackened sky. For all its nightmarish
qualities, there was something remarkable happening on this planet, which
Satan’s act of destruction caused.... Rain began to fall upon the hot land,
steaming instantly when hitting the molten streams. At first the rain was composed of hydrogen, methane, and argon
liquids. As it poured ceaselessly upon
the sweltering landscape, great clouds of steam joined the primal gasses,
filtered of their toxic impurities, if for only a little while, until
gradually, as the land cooled, and the rain fell, the clouds began to issue
moisture that collected in ever increasing basins below, until finally, a great
ocean covered most of the crust.
Plunged
into the ocean repeatedly, as a matter of course now, were smaller meteorites
from the young atmosphere. A great wind
blew upon the face of the deep caused in part by the gravity of the moon and
the settling of the earth’s crust. At
one point, the natural forces of lightning and thunder were followed by great
sheets of water onto the earth. After
the deluge, out of sheer whim, the Lord and his first archangel came closer and
closer to the spectacular scene of dry, cooling land. Mountains were interspersed with smoldering volcanoes. A bejeweled assortment of minerals reflected
on the landscape. A sky filled with
ominous dark clouds greeted their dazzled eyes, the youthful sun’s light breaking
through to guide their steps. One day
the land would break apart to form all the world’s continents, but for now it
was one great landmass, surrounded by a churning, lifeless, fresh water sea.
Upon
the barren land, the Lord of the Universe and Satan moved on the third
celestial day of creation, which was but a nanosecond in God’s time but which
was ten billion years after the Big Bang.
Having created the Earth, and allowing Satan
a hand in its Creation, God blessed it, setting it above all other celestial
bodies in space. Standing guard on the
new world, as an honor but also as a check on his power, was Satan, self-styled
heir apparent, whose ambition had been stifled by this tribute. Though the universe was already very old,
Earth was but an infant in the cosmos.
It was upon this lonely outpost of steaming rocks and boiling seas that
God and Satan walked for a while, pausing to reflect upon ongoing Creation and
the meaning of it all. On its dark
side, beneath a looming lunar lamp, God looked out over a desolate landscape,
filled again with purpose, and knew what He must do. Though Satan’s friends had been given far worse outposts than
him, the archangel was unhappy with his exile.
The Lord knew that it was important to give him a special, long-range
task. When he had created living beings
like Himself, they were, in effect, physically perfect as was the universe and
heaven. Nothing, until he endowed the
angels with freewill, had been left to chance.
An idea was born in His infinite mind to begin at the very inception of
life. Nothing that steamed, bubbled,
oozed, or sat inert on this planet could move on its own, he explained
tutorially to Satan. Though there was
constant upheaval here, nothing lifeless could deliberately change, without the
Word. Always, when the Word was uttered
change occurred, but only at God’s command.
It had been a perfect universe until then.
Satan looked up from the steaming earth now
and said, “Give me the power of the Word.”
The Lord wagged his finger as he would at an
over ambitious child. “You would be God?”
“No,” the archangel shook his head, “just the
Word. That’s all I want.”
“But the Word is God,” He studied
Satan’s inscrutable face.
“Did I not send comets in motion?” Satan
blustered. “Did I not rain meteors on this world?”
“That was my Word. I gave you the power,” replied the
Lord. “You must understand one thing
Satan: the Word comes through me. All
other magic is evil without the Word.
What you did was an act of destruction, not creation. Comets and meteors bring destruction to this
world.”
Stifling an argument brewing in his mind,
Satan performed the only act possible in the presence of God, he bowed
politely, and kept his silence. There
would be no argument this time with God about his divinity nor his power. Looking around at his domain, which the
Lord, Himself, would fashion, he knew he was but the caretaker of this world,
but it occurred to him, as they walked in silence over the barren ground, that
it was nevertheless his.
“Lord,” he ventured politely, “I will be
lonely. Will there be others to act as
companions on this world?”
After thinking for a moment, the Lord said
slowly, with hesitation “After awhile, when I see a change, I will allow
visitors from the heavenly host to come.
If they have behaved themselves, I will allow your friends Sariel,
Raguel, Raziel, and Remiel to visit you too.... I know you were thinking of
rebellion, Satan. I regret now that I
gave you and the others freewill.”
A discussion that would define sin for ages
to come but also God’s future plans for Creation, commenced between the Lord
God and the new Lord of Earth.
“Without freewill,” began Satan, “we are but
mindless copies of yourself.”
“Is that how they perceive themselves?” God
looked up at the firmament, as if he could see heaven from where he stood.
“Copies of me, without identities?” “That’s absurd, cherub,” he turned suddenly
to the archangel. Who put that notion
into your head?”
The archangel shrugged and said nothing, for,
in deed, he thought of it all by himself.
“We are all replications of you, except for
the Word,” he tactfully returned to the issue. “We know only what were suppose
to know. All Creation is through your
eyes and, because you are God, by your command.”
“You have said it,” the Lord folded his arms.
“From the smallest atom to the constellations and galaxies—all Creation is but
a reflection and result of me.”
******
A notion, born from knowledge stored in God’s
infinite mind, caused Him to pause abruptly and sit on a nearby rock. Freewill also meant diversity—a concept at
odds with the control He demonstrated in Creation. In spite of freewill, the elements and the angels, themselves,
were, it was true, reflections or mere copies of Himself. All he had accomplished by replicating
Himself and instilling in His angels freewill was a heaven filled with diverse
personalities. Satan had been right
about creation too: it was an automatic, unchanging process that depended upon
divine whim. Chaos, which came with freedom,
could not be avoided. Did his hand
always have to stir things up? What if
he left Creation alone—at least for a while?
There was, at this point in the process, a great sameness and
predictability to the firmament and heavenly host that depressed Him. Boredom, the final emotion to be felt by
God, had caused Him to experiment with the elements in space. But now, returning to his sense of destiny,
he decided to experiment with the very process of life. He would give living substance freedom as he
had the angels but at the beginning: the very inception of life.
Reaching
into the warm water of creation, He searched for a likely clump of matter. When He had found a large enough matrix to
work with, He lifted it up and blew the breath of life into its molecules. Satan looked on in horror. Dropping the clump back into water close
enough to the shoreline for him to sit and watch, He sat there intently,
watching it float aimlessly around in the clear water: the first draft of a
living thing.
“What
is this magic,” the archangel muttered to himself. “What purpose is there in
creating such evil things?”
“Nothing
in Creation is evil,” replied God cagily. “Did I not create you? What purpose was there in that?’
The
insinuation stung the archangel, who knew God had looked into his heart.
“When
I’m finished planting this garden,” said the Lord, “you will see wonders grow
before your eyes greater than constellations or galaxies, and ones rivaling
heaven too!”
“Grow?”
Satan murmured numbly. “You are talking
about time, Lord? How long will this
growth be?”
“I
don’t know,” God waved his hand lightly. “We’ll just have to see!”
“But
you’re God, you have to know,” cried Satan as he watched the Lord’s ascent.
In
a demonstration of his majesty, the Lord ascended to heaven on a bed of dark
clouds, which flashed from lightning, causing a drizzle of rain on Satan’s
upturned face.
“I
do know, Satan,” He shouted down, “.... If I look into my memory I know all
things. But you don’t. You shall never have that power. I leave you as the guardian of this
world. As the caretaker, not the
gardener, make sure my seeds prosper.
Just don’t touch them; let them grow wild, for I have given them purpose
and a will to thrive.”
“I
shall call my kingdom ‘barren ground,’ Satan called bitterly after God, ‘for it
is where I remain imprisoned for being a replication of God.”
Satan
spat on his shadow and silently cursed God.
The Lord, always merciful, would give the Prince of Earth one more
chance.
“You
are blessed among the angels,” God’s voice boomed down from the firmament. “You shall call the barren ground Eden, for
in the days ahead it will radiate life to all corners of this world. You shall rule over it, as you could never
do in heaven. Tend it well!”
“Rule?”
Satan looked at his image in the sea. “All I see is rock and dark water. For eons my reflection in the waters will be
the only face I see.”
A
question swelled in Satan’s throat he prudently kept to himself. Seeing the misgivings on the archangel’s
face, God added for emphasis, “Guard Eden well, Satan. I expect great things from you!”
Satan
looked back down at the barren ground, head bowed, and began his long exile on
Earth. At a latter day, the Lord would
come into the Prophet Ezekiel’s dream and, with sadness, speak of this bygone
day
“13 You were in Eden, the garden of God.
Every precious stone was your covering: carnelian, topaz, jasper,
chrysolite, beryl, onyx, sapphire, carbuncle, and emerald. Wrought in gold were your settings and your
engravings. On the day that you were created they were prepared. With an
anointed guardian cherub I placed you. 14
You were on the holy mountain of God, and in the midst of the stones of
fire you walked. You were blameless in your ways from the day you were created,
until iniquity was found in you.”
(Ezekiel 28: 13-14.)
Evolution
Set In Motion: The Precambrian Period
Because
air-breathing bacteria had not evolved yet, there was no oxygen on Earth. In its place was methane, which the earliest
cells used in respiration. From these
lowly globs, breathing methane instead of oxygen, the cells mutated, after the
Lord’s management, and evolved into oxygen producing patches of green
slime. With this new gas being pumped
into the atmosphere, the Lord, looking down from the firmament, found that a
greater diversity of living forms was possible. Satan, playing the part of spoiler, would, thinking God had not
noticed, cause the new Earth to boil forth magma or allow a comet to break
through, often bringing about the extinction of a sea animal or plant
encroaching on the ground, but even this was part of God’s plan, just as out of
the chaos of the Big Bang the jeweled firmament was brought forth and with the
imperfect nature of freewill beautiful and inscrutable angels had been born.
As a
result of Satan’s first act of destruction, the Earth’s chemical balance was
set on course. It was, however, from
God’s creation of the first non-celestial life form that the first oxygen
breathing algae and bacteria evolved, producing more and more oxygen, sprouting
into more diverse creatures, until the atmosphere was thick with a humid layer
of air and a pungent evolutionary soup lapped on the shoreline and filled the
churning sea. Looking out from the
barren ground, Satan marveled at this first encroachment upon Eden. The earliest seaweed was being washed by the
waves onto the primal beach. Already in
anticipation of when plants would take hold to invade the land, the tide pools
had become caked with stromatolites (fossilized remains of algae) and mosses
and lichens, the earliest land plants, which clung to tidal rocks. Within the hydrogen and oxygen saturated
seas, among the primal soup, several thousand types of single cell organisms,
including a few who tended to clump together, as did their green slime
forefathers, swam densely throughout the watery world.
As
would a chemist looking into a vial or an alchemist stirring his pot, the Lord
played, as Satan looked on, in the primal sea.
The archangel longed to stir things up himself. Green slime had transformed into algae and
algae now evolved into a myriad of sea plants, which the surf continued to
deposit on the shore. The barren land,
which would one day become Eden, looked more desolate by this effect, and yet
Satan felt hopeful now that his exile would one day come to an end.
Impatient
that the process took so long and that creation was passing him by, Satan began
looking for the gardener, who was spending so much time by the shore. The first animals, evolving from bacteria,
were simple bell shaped creatures, whose whip-like tentacles and adaptable body
features would propel them into numerous orders, including sponges, jelly
fishes, and yet higher forms of life.
The Lord had reached an interesting stage, in which there were filmy
willow-o’the-wisp, segmented, and hideous pulsating creatures swimming in the
sea, which drew the attention of Satan, who was this moment walking across the
barren ground.
“Lord,” he began, “what need have you of
these monstrosities?”
“Nothing
I have created is monstrous,” replied the Lord. “All has a purpose in a latter day.”
“But
these creatures are ugly,” protested the archangel, “There’s no beauty in the
sea.”
“Ugly?”
God’s enigmatic face broke into a smile.
“Nothing in Creation is ugly, cherub.
Did I not create you?”
Knowing
this angel’s heart, the Lord remained silent.
So Satan cloaked his criticism in polite terms. “Lord, you have lit the darkness; your
Creation is done. Such nasty things are
beneath you. Why bother so with this insignificant
world?”
“This
is your world I am tending, is it not Satan?” challenged God.
The
question stopped Satan cold. His
world—not just a caretaker—but his world.
Raising up a small trilobite that crawled, as would a latter day
cockroach in his great palm, the Lord chided the archangel gently: “Satan, are
you jealous of my creation? These
creatures I leave to evolution, which is my creation too. Let’s wait and see what it brings.”
Reaching
down into tide pool, he brought up a slimy, jelly-like creature that looked
like a vase: “Behold, Satan, from this humble one come great things.”
“Surely,
the Lord jests,” Satan looked down at the hideous creature with amazement.
The
translucent creature pulsated in God’s hand.
The archangel drew closer, mumbling to himself.
“I
don’t understand Lord,” he made a face. “Please explain this evolution. Is it a part of Creation? If it is part of Creation, I bow to you
plan.”
“It is
part of my plan,” He now tested the angel’s will.
As God
held it out to him, Satan bowed to this lowly blob. He knew that Michael, Gabriel, and Raphael would have followed
suit as did all of the other angels, but Satan could not tolerate this
sycophancy, even to God. Shuddering at
the lowly glob, he felt a wretch deep in his throat. A great dread filled him, when he realized what he had done. And yet the Lord, as always, forgave him and
gave him a gentle pat.
“You
must learn humility,” He gave Satan an enigmatic smile. “When you have seen
life creep onto and take hold of the land, you shall begin loving this
world. I can see the future Satan. Believe me, you will love Eden
especially. I have great things in
store for this land.”
Satan
gave God a thoughtful expression, bowing faintly as the Lord returned the glob
to the sea. He thought about his
allies, Sariel, Raguel, Raziel, and Remiel, who had also been exiled to various
outposts in space. His exile was the
best. He decided to bide his time here
on the barren ground until Eden became a garden. It would be much different if there were beautiful life forms
growing here. He might even begin to
like it.... It was much better than whiling away eternity on a cold lifeless
world.
“What
will happen to the others?” He motioned to the sky.
“Their
worlds will never rise to the level of yours,” explained the Lord. “Someday, if
you all behave yourself, I will let you return.”
“To
heaven?” Satan brightened.
“For
awhile,” replied the Lord, “and I will let the others return too,… but as
visitors. The universe, a much wider
kingdom, is theirs.”
“I can
leave the barren ground and visit my friends?” Satan pressed forward, greatly
excited about what he had heard.
“When
my garden has begun, but only for a spell,” the Lord said. “After all you are
the caretaker of this world. Look at
the progress, Satan. Are you so anxious
to leave Eden now?”
“This
world is not my home,” Satan replied stubbornly. “Please let me be with my
friends.”
“To
plot against me and to rebel?” The Lord searched Satan’s thoughts. “Foolish
servant, I know what you have in mind.
Visit yes, but you’ll never be left alone with your friends!”
“What
can I do to make you believe I’ve changed?” Satan wailed, as the Lord ascended
once more into the clouds. “I have been marooned on the barren ground for eons
without complaint. Still the land you
call Eden is barren. When will life
encroach on this world, so I can go home?”
“Understand this, Satan,” roared the Lord, “I
never said you could permanently leave this world. As a visitor you will return one day to heaven, and as a visitor
you can visit you friends in space.... But you are the caretaker of this
world. Be thankful I didn’t exile
somewhere else: an asteroid, a frozen comet, or an eternally lifeless world. Tend to my garden!”
“What
garden?” Asked Satan looking at the barren ground.
12 How you are fallen from heaven, O shining star, son of the morning! You have been thrown down to the earth ... “
(Isaiah 14:12)
Michael
Advises God
During each eon in which the
gardener continued to fashion Eden, Satan, the caretaker of Earth, looked on
with envious eyes. Though God had given
him dominion, he had not given him the Word.
Despite his onetime standing with God, he was known in heaven as a rebel
and yet, to keep an eye on him, the Lord had entrusted him with Earth. This fact galled Michael, who, though the
chief angel in heaven now, had no planet of his own.
“This
is a mistake Lord,” he complained, while approaching God.
“Michael,”
He motioned with his hand, “walk with me.”
“You
must not trust Satan,” the archangel persisted. Though fearful of arguing with the Lord, he confided his
conversations with the Lord’s favorite angel.
“Are
you jealous of him?” the Lord asked finally. “I’ve sent Satan into exile. Why would you begrudge him that?”
“If I
am jealous of Satan,” demurred Michael, “he is envious of you. I have never been jealous of my creator.”
“An
honest answer,” nodded the Lord. “You admit being envious of Satan, and yet you
begrudge him for being envious of me.
Tell me why that is different archangel.”
Michael
thought about this a moment, though he knew the answer.
At
this time, long before the age of man, the Lord had no throne and walked almost
as an equal among the angels. But
Michael, unlike Satan, knew where to draw the line. This simply dressed being was—the word came slowly to him....
God. Also plaguing the archangel’s mind
was another notion, more troubling than this.... Satan was evil. He was merely biding his time until he would
attempt to overthrow the Lord.
“You
are the Creator—the first being.... You are God!” Michael finally replied.
Adam and Eve: The
First Mortals
When Michael returned to heaven, God remained on earth—its creator and
caretaker, walking alone among the trees.
As he admired his creation, He took mud from the side of stream and molded
a likeness of himself. Breathing into
the shape, he watched as its eyes opened and he began to live. Thus, by divine whim, God created man. His eyes opened, he was set down upon his
legs, and he took his first steps. God
called this creature Adam. Looking
around at the garden in which they walked, he set it apart from the world,
calling it Eden. In the garden, he
warned Adam, you are safe. Outside you
shall die. Beautiful trees and flowers
grew everywhere and all manner of berries and fruits. Birds sang in the trees, the stream that flowed through the
valley was filled with fish, and animals roamed peacefully in meadow
nearby. In the meadow, as he stationed
Adam upon a rock, the first man was given the task of naming all
creatures. Many hours passed as Adam
gave titles God’s creation.
Despite the cornucopia available to Adam, the first man had looked into
the stream and saw himself. He was much
different than other creatures. He
longed for another mortal to be by his side.
God saw Adam’s mood and understood it.
Invisible now, He moved as a breeze across Adam’s face.
“You have everything, Adam,” he whispered into his ear, “food, shelter,
and protection, but you are alone.”
“Yes, Lord.” he nodded. “I love your creation, but I have no one to talk
to and no one to share my life.”
“As you wish,” the Lord said faintly.
Suddenly weary, the first man nestled beside the stream and fell into a
deep sleep. While he slept, the Lord
took one of Adam’s ribs and fashioned a new creature similar to Adam. She was, as Adam, perfect in every way. When Adam was awakened, she stood there
before him. A shaft of light from the
treetops highlighted her golden hair and blue eyes. Adam was overjoyed with this sight.
“Behold Adam,” the Lord boomed, “I’ve given you a soul mate—Eve, the
first woman. Now listen my
children. Eden is your garden; here
you’re safe. Everything you need is
here. I have taken care of the garden,
but now it’s your task to tend to Eden.
All this is yours to maintain, except one tree. You may look upon this tree, but don’t eat
its fruit. Don’t even touch it; give it
a wide berth.”
Eve’s eyes widened, “Tell us where it is, Lord, so we can avoid the
tree. How else will we know?”
“You will know the tree when you see
it,” replied God. “It is like no other tree in the garden. If you eat its fruit, you will have
knowledge of good and evil. You will
lose your immortality; in fact one day you will die. Though God didn’t mean that Adam and Eve would drop down dead
the moment they ate the fruit from the tree, the very thought frightened
Adam. Eve, however, shrugged of the
warning. She was more inquisitive than
her mate and therefore susceptible to Satan’s temptation, and challenge to her
freewill. One day, in fact, when Adam
and Eve were gathering berries for dinner and left her alone in her side of the
forest, she heard a silky voice behind her.
“Is it true?” the voice asked softly. “Has God told you that you can eat
the fruit from all the trees?
Eve turned around to see a beautiful, multicolored snake talking to her,
replying innocently, “God has told us we can eat all the fruit except for what
grows on The Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil. He warned us that if we did, we would surely die!”
“That’s not true!” relied the serpent. “How could such a lovely fruit
would do you harm. God knows that if
you eat from The Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil you’ll become just like
Him, and will be able to decide for yourself what is right and what is wrong.”
“Now tell me,” he said softly, sliding further down the tree, “how could that
be bad? Are you not made from his
hands—the stuff of God, Himself. How
could it be wrong?”
Eve studied the fruit and wondered how it would taste. Much more important to her, though, was the
thought that it might make her as wise and powerful as God. Hesitating in her last moment of innocence,
she accepted the serpent’s lie and took a bite of the fruit. When Adam saw what she was doing, he flew
into a rage
“Woman, what have you done?” he shouted. “We were warned not to eat that
fruit. You know the consequences. God will punish you. He said you would die.”
“Look at me Adam,” she grinned mischievously, a gleam in her eyes, “do I
look dead? I’ve never felt better in my
life. My flesh tingles. My mind is filled with wondrous
things!”
“Oh Eve!” Adam wept. “You will die and I’ll be left alone. Why did you disobey God?”
“The fruit of this tree is delicious.
The Serpent told me that if I ate its fruit I would be like God, and
that’s exactly how I feel.” “Here.” She offered, after picking a second piece
of fruit. “Take a bite. You’ll see what
I mean.”
In the depths of despair, knowing full well what his action meant, Adam
took the fruit and studied it. While he
analyzed it, turning it this way and that, the Serpent, who had tempted Eve
watched from his branch. He was greatly
amused. Eve now played the
tempter. As her mate contemplated a
world without her, he shrugged his shoulders, lifted the fruit up, and took a
bite. That moment, as Adam succumbed to
temptation, Eve was struck with remorse, a feeling she had never
experienced. Looking up into the tree,
Adam saw the Serpent looking down, a grin on his sly face. In his newfound wisdom knew who he was. Eve had been tricked by God’s adversary. He had been enticed by Eve. The first pangs of guilt filled the
couple. They had disobeyed God and knew
they had sinned. Because Eve had been
left in the care of her mate, however, Adam’s sin was greater.
Knowing good and evil, they were aware of their sin
and realized they were naked. Greatly
ashamed, they sewed fig leaves together and made coverings for themselves then
hid in the Garden of Eden to escape God’s wrath. As they cowered in the garden, they could hear footsteps—the
crunch of leaves and swish of bushes.
The sound that they heard was the Lord God walking in among trees, not
as a spirit but in the flesh.
“Where are you?” His voice
boomed.
Holding Eve’s hand, Adam
called from the woods. “Here we are Lord!”
“Come forth Adam!” He
demanded. “Why do you hide?”
“We are afraid because we
are naked.” Adam emerged slowly, with Eve not far behind.
“Who told you that you
were naked?” roared God. “Have you eaten the fruit I commanded you not to eat?”
“Yes.” Adam sighed
brokenly. “Eve gave it to me, and I took a bite.”
Having
hung their heads in shame as they walked toward God, the couple now shielded
their eyes. The countenance of the Lord
was both terrible and beautiful. The
trees in the garden trembled and the ground shook beneath their feet.
“Woman, what have you done?” God shouted at Eve.
“The Serpent deceived me.” She pointed accusingly at
the tree. “So I ate it, thinking it would make me wise like you and like God.”
Looking up into the Tree of Knowledge where the
serpent was coiled, God gave a wounded cry. “I entrust my garden to you, and
this is my reward. In the body of a
snake, you’ve corrupted my greatest creation.
Because you have done this, you are cursed above all my creatures! You will crawl on your belly and you will
eat dust all the days of your life!”
After
consigning Satan to his role as deceiver of mankind, He turned to the
woman. Adam and Eve were almost blinded
by his presence. So that they could
look upon Him, his countenance became a shadow against the morning sun—the
silhouette of a human like themselves, tall and majestic, an aura outlining his
form.
“I
warned you!” He wrung a finger. “But you didn’t believe. Because of your disobedience, I will make
your pains in childbearing severe. With
such labor you will give birth to children.
Though your husband played the fool this hour, you shall obey him. No more shall you play the tempter. He shall rule over you as I rule over him.”
“Was it worth, woman?” he added icily. “Did the fruit taste sweet?”
“I’m
sorry Lord,” wept Eve.
To Adam he spoke more harshly. “I gave you this
woman that you should watch over her. Because you gave in to her temptation and
ate the fruit I commanded you not to eat, cursed is the ground below you. Through painful toil, you will work the ground
all your days. Though it produces
thorns and thistles for you, you must eat the plants of the field. By the sweat of your
brow you will eat its food until you return to the ground from which you were
created, for dust you are and dust you will return.”
Pointing his finger down the path leading out of the
garden, he blasted them, “Go! Leave my
garden. Into the wilderness I send you
to fend for yourselves!”
Before they departed, however, garments of beasts
appeared on their bodies, fashioned by God.
On Adam’s shoulder hung a sack of food and on Eve’s shoulders a skin
filled with water. That was all they
would take into the wilderness. Then
once again God stretched out his arm. “Now go!” he thundered. That moment, as they looked back, He
vanished, never to be seen on earth again.
Adam and Eve now left their refuge—the first man and woman. After the Lord banished them from
the Garden of Eden—Adam to work the ground and Eve
to bear mankind, He installed angels with flaming swords to stand guard. Henceforth, it was closed to Adam and his
descendants because of his sin; and yet, having failed God’s test, they
fulfilled His plan. Through Adam’s seed
and Eve’s womb, creation was completed.
Because of her curiosity, Adam had fallen from grace, paradise was lost,
and Satan had become the Tempter—the great adversary of God.