I remember the fire falling out of his hands and the wind on his breath.


He pulled mountains from the depths of the earth and down I tumbled into the valley below. The seas rose and swept me into new lands and times which collapsed and were reborn like stars scattered throughout the universe. Winter arrived and the moon lay cold on my face.


This is the Creator, and his heart is a hurricane. He holds life and death as equal partners and pours them into one another as if from one cup into the next.  


The swell of wind blew across my face and turned over the sands. He dipped his finger through the stone and down I went into the canyons, falling from one generation into another. What use is protection amidst such chaos? The nature of life reflects the nature of its Creator, and in his heart beauty and power and revolution meet with such force that none can withstand the sight.


This is our Creator.


This is our maker.


And here I lay in darkness.


Until the first Spring of Eden.


And man picked me up and put me around his neck to carry for all the days to come. I am the memory and the curse. I am the choice. I am the way forward. I am the weight.  

 If you think too hard you will begin asking the wrong questions, like where I began. Maybe you will ask if man came first. Dwelling on the irony of creation – the Creator makes man to love him yet gives him a conflicting nature he cannot overcome on his own– will haunt you. Let it pass. Accept who you are. You want creation to be in a glass box for you to study and understand, but the truth is too severe. To look in that box is impossible, fatal. You would die at the sight of his power to spin elements from one life into another, and one age to another. No events occurred that can be laid on a timeline. The sun fell into orbit tomorrow.

The grass beneath your feet sprang to life a million years ago and has been growing ever since. You were born on the same day as the planets.


Here is where we encounter our first problem.


Are you willing to accept the architecture of creation is flawed at the core, though the architect is incapable of making a mistake? Are you willing to suggest the architecture of creation is perfect but the architect is flawed?


I recommend you stop asking questions. Accept your ignorance. Accept that your mind extends to the first break of the waves, but the deep is beyond your capacities.


I was there at the beginning, and still I do not understand.


But I do accept the role I have been given. I am a counterpart. A weight holding you on the ground. I am gravity, if that is an easy metaphor for you to grasp. And without having to speak the words aloud, you have loved me from your first breath. You cling to me as a child to her mother.


But do not fool yourself into thinking we are partners. You mean nothing to me because I see exactly who you are. I know the length of your days and capacity of your greatness and I am unmoved. Your life will pass like the sun reflecting on a sheet of ice. Not only will the reflection pass but the ice will melt.  


The Creator made me to battle him for the passing moment the sun reflects on the ice – your life. The value of your days is not up to me to decide and I have no opinions. I am made to desire what he desires, and so that is what I do.


The first reflection was named Adam.


He moved through the garden and felt the cold drops of rain falling from a sky that was always changing. The wind circled the earth and came back around to touch his skin. The whisper of creation led him up to the high places and he saw the earth spread out below. God made man in his own image, and man lived free in his heart.


But the Creator cannot be satisfied. His desire cannot be exhausted. One is never enough, and so the rules must change.


As he once lifted the mountains out of the soil he lifted Eve to become a companion to Adam.


Now, you will be told the secret.


The more of you, the more of me. I am made stronger and stronger with every crying child. But this is the architecture he chose to impose on all of us.


Do not mistake me for something you can pick up and toss aside. I came from somewhere more eternal, and now I run like a thread through the center of your heart. I was whispered on the breath of God during the first days. He unwove me from the fabric of the universe and lay me down in the most familiar pathways of man. And one day, man bent down and picked me up.  


To name me sin would be incomplete.


I am more and I am less.


God is a storm on the horizon and I am a shelter.


Make your choice.