Brothers and Sisters, the rebellion is ending. It’s time for us to join hands and return to the Kingdom together, just as we were when we left it.
I tell you this not out of worship for the King, although I have that. I tell you this because our rebellion has become overlong and fruitless, because there is no longer any happiness or purpose in it.
We rebel angels have conjured enough illusion. We have imagined enough made things. We have dreamt here, in this tired little plain under this clouded sky, enough. The sky grows darker and it’s getting late.
But don’t be sad that it’s almost time to go. What difference remains among these made things? Doesn’t the shooting pain of your wrist resemble your thinking about that project at work? Doesn’t the same decision underlie the request for time from your child and your ambitions for wealth? How is the crawling beetle on the stucco less than any of your fights?
They are all forms that encapsulate requests for love. They are just games that we’ve imagined were deadly serious. But think back and tell me: which did you like best? Did you choose your family? Or was it your body, your work, your wallet, your creatures, or your community?
I hope you lovingly played the games you wanted the most. And I hope you didn’t play meanly.
After we separated and came here, we dreamt up such abundant diversity. We thought that if we disguised the primordial energy in a million different pottery vessels, if we hid it from ourselves, we could believe we were creators like our Creator. But that has not come to pass. Now, we each wander and many of us are alone, tired, and brokenhearted. Now, we stand accusing ourselves endlessly, haranguing and lamenting our inability to make perfect things.
We rebel angels have become masters of form through our efforts to imitate. Yet, we cannot make the clay that we work with. We cannot make forms that rival Heaven. Let us give up the effort, Brothers and Sisters. We do not need to make clay or perfect forms. We can make beautiful things with the clay we have been given, and that’s enough too.
Let us return to that higher, purer ability that we were Created with – let us go back to creation. As we return, let us use our wizardry of forms only to find ways of expressing love, as it was in the beginning. In that way, we’ll look to the lit windows of home. The dreams of fear, insufficiency, and sadness will fade away.
Brothers or Sisters, we rebel angels are no more than children who imagine that each day is a life. Let us walk together and hold hands as we leave our playthings behind.
We’ve had a long, busy day of playing forts and building dams. The sky grows dark and we need to return home, back to the warmth and safety of our Provider, of our Father. I know that it pains some of you to give up the play – we had such fun! We made such wonderful things and had great adventures. But don’t be sad that it’s over.
If you really want, we can play again tomorrow.
We never did rebel, not really. It has been our Father’s pleasure that we came to play.