by Joshua Russell
From the black void a voice arose: I will go to hell and back for you, dear child.
Then God created the heavens and the earth, full well knowing the heartache it would cause him to have such beautiful little children (he could gobble them up!) and watch them cower before his gaze, think horrible thoughts, despise him, despise themselves, despise the very sky he painted for them.
And what’s worse, they would feel such incredible fear deep inside. Oh the heartache it would cause him! And no thing would separate them from him other than the ideas in their heads that they were not ready to think when they ate of that tree.
The tree of the knowledge of good and evil.
That great and mighty tree would be fashioned into large beams, unbreakable by frail men, into a mighty machine. A torture device. This machine would pump all the terrifying thoughts of what God does to those who can’t manage his impossible standards into the heads of the sons of Adam and the daughters of Eve. And the machine would be so powerful because it would be so close to the truth.
Yet so far from it.
For thousands of years the machine would be a standard for human torture. And few upon the face of the earth would find refuge from the terrible grinding gears and bone crushing power of the beams. And ooooh. How his heart would ache.
Then from the black void a whisper… “i will go to hell and back for you, dear child.”
And mankind would peer out through cataract eyes to see the beams erected into a new machine. The device so awful.
Created to destroy God Himself.
He used black paint on the sky that day. And even his children would often think it was his anger descending. The black clouds, fierce winds, earth torn open. For that was the one moment in all the infinite expanse of existence, that hell would enter the throne room. That heaven would enter hell. Black was the color of heaven that day.
You have traveled so far.
And I have let you fight the machine.
All by yourself you did it. You have searched through the knowledge of good and evil. All by yourself. And you went so far and tried so hard. And I was rooting for you even though I knew you would never make it.
You would never even come close.
I saw you from the black void and I spoke over you then. My whisper is a mighty voice of burning love. So fierce is my burning love it will go to hell and back. Because you need to have a new idea. I did not go there for a vacation. Or to satisfy my machine.
I have no machine.
I went there to show you how much I love you. I saw you from far off and I ran to you. I saw you from the black void before I created you and I ran to you from across the universe. And on the way, I stopped in at hell and broke those f*&^ing beams. I tore them into toothpicks for you to use at my wedding feast! Dear child I love you so much I went to hell and back for you, and what’s more?
I destroyed hell for you.
My death was a picture of the depth of my love for you! Can I do more? Shall I find a greater way to show you? I have already scoured the depths of the universe for the greatest way to prove my love for you.
That is why I rose again.
And I restored, fashioned anew, the imprint of me in you. And from your deepest heart there is the cry, “Abba, Father! I am not a slave, Father! The machine has been broken, father! I could hear the twisting of the beams and the cracking and splintering! And you tore those beams to shreds! You tore those beams to pieces, father! And you have given me the power of heaven.
To set free the world. That whatever I touch, your kingdom joins the earth. The very soil I walk on is made new in your name. And everything the machine destroyed, you redeemed. You made it new.”
I am undone and remade by your burning love.
Your burning love.
Your burning love.
Your burning love…