Summary: The Word creates the universe and all that is within it and centuries later he presents Himself in human form as a helpless little baby, all to woo us.
Advent #3 Dec 11, 2011
Blackness. Deep, inky, heavy, darkness. The kind that presses in from all sides, crushing, chaotic and formless, and yet powerful. It is not eyes-shut blackness – it is eyes wide open blackness, pupils straining to dilate further, desperate for the smallest flicker of light, yet finding nothing. It lasts for an eternity, yet also a moment.
God wills. Lightning cracks, time begins. And in the corner, finally, a soft light penetrates. The blackness runs back, the light draws near.
Creation explodes – creativity, delight, abundance. Not one planet around one sun, but galaxy upon galaxy upon galaxy. Not one flower, but hundreds of thousands. Not one creature, but millions, many never to be seen nor understood by human eye, which is fine because they were not created for humanity but rather for God. All spoken into existence with a word, followed by a shout of joy.
And in the beginning was the Word. The Word spoke, and matter danced into being, danced with praise, danced around the Word, to His delight. Stars, gases, nebulae. To the end of eternity and back again. And they danced to the delight of the Maker. The Word spoke again, it happened again. Oceans filled with life. Strange, unexpected, harmonious; and the waves and the creatures danced. The Word spoke again. And again. And again.
And, it was good.
The creator stepped down onto the dirt He had created. The Word knelt in the soil. Fingers grasped earth, wedging beneath fingernails, filling lines in the palms of the hands. And the Artist formed the dirt. Adding, pushing, stretching, pulling, molding, sculpting. With care and detail, the Word formed a new creature. He shapes feet and legs, kidneys and stomach, armpits and shoulders, a head, a brain, ears and eyes and mouth. And a nose. As the shape finishes, He bends closer, His mouth opens around the nostrils and then seals. And the Word, the Breath, breathes into those nostrils.
The lighting cracks again, synapses fire for the first time ever, a heart starts to beat, blood begins to flow and the Breath of life fills every cell in every corner. Eyes bolt open, limbs convulse, energy flows, and a shout of joy escapes from the mouth. This new creation leaps to his feet, and starts to join the dance, and God now has a dancing partner.
And dance they do.
And, it was good. It was very good.
This new companion turned against the light. He turned to darkness. He questioned the light, wanted to be the source, succumbed to the illusion of control and power beyond himself. He ran from the Light, hid from the light, shut his eyes against the light, believing that the darkness would somehow lead to something else—something better—something controllable. He left the partner standing on the dance floor, spurned, rejected, and hurt.
But the Light pursued. He came walking in the garden. He called. Excuses, blame, sorrow, rejection.
And promise: He will strike your head, and you will strike his heal.