The weeping God (Speculative fiction)
The tears roll down his cheeks. As they glide down they remain suspended in mid-air—clear as glass, silky, crystalline and smooth—as an Urim and Thumin. Over all the long centuries this has never become any less tragic. His soul tempered by centuries of progress should be immune to such pain, but the immense tragedy of it all never leaves him.
He thinks back to his conversation with Enoch—though millennia have passed, it is just yesterday in the rotations of the great Kolob. He had been consumed with rage and grief. Despite the vastness of the cosmos and the countless multitude of his creation, predicting the progress and choices of the human soul was still quite a challenge. All they have to do is love one another and choose the lord their God. It seems to him so simple and yet clearly it was not. How could they so hate their own blood and turn against the source of all life?
He struggles to understand the temptation to sin and disobedience—A soul yearning to do it all alone. He thinks of his son condescending down to the level of mortals so that he could fully understand their temptations and advocate for them—yet he had always risen above these base instincts.. In some universe long past, he too had condescended but the memory was truly distant. He has been in perfect mastery for so many long eons that he had could not recall the sensation in any meaningful way. For all intents and purposes he has been so forever.
In the days of Enoch, his tears flowed continually as long as the flood poured down. He knew then, as he did now, that this tragedy was necessary. His children could not become like him without trials and opposition. Without experiencing the bitter they could not know the sweet. The flood would give the world a chance for renewal and rebirth. He knew the end of mortal life was hardly the end of it all, and that these souls would have time to grow and progress in the spirit world. He knew these temporary losses would give these souls experience and be for their good…and yet…and yet the pain was all consuming. He regarded each wayward soul and each relinquishing breath as deep tragedy. So many souls dedicated to opposing him! He shuddered as he contemplated what agony they must experience due to their insistence of doing it alone—even as my first born son must, he thought.
Sometimes he struggled to have faith in the plan that he had endorsed before the world was formed. Was it truly the best way to bring to pass the immortal and eternal life of man? Sometimes as he saw acts of cruelty and viciousness, Satan’s plan of coercion and control seemed superior. And yet, the genuine acts of unforced and unrequited sacrifice that he continually saw on earth helped to give him confidence. Such conduct could not be coerced! Still, it took all of the faith that he could muster at times not to intervene at every opportunity to reduce suffering. This was one of those moments.
In the reflection of his tear drop, he could see the metallic object explode in a flash. Simultaneously, The cries of those abroad ascends and fills his ears. They speak out in a multiplicity of tounges—“Heavenly Father,” “Shemah Israel, “Allah Akbar”—Yet they ascend in one pure adamic tounge of pure prayer. He was listening! Listening was all he could do. Not because he was powerless, but because he was all powerful.
He rejoices knowing that he would be reunited with some of his sons and daughters shortly. Yet this joy is cut short, tempered by the knowledge that some of them would not be able to bear his presence. They would reject him and depart. He could not make someone act against his will for such a God would cease to be God and become no better than the adversary. Even omnipotence had its limits!
He knows that those on earth would respond to this tragedy in different ways. Some would use it as a catalyst to wake up and realize the blessing of life. They would turn to him with a full heart. Others would curse him and remove themselves further from his presence. Misery would result as would love and compassion.. Even he, the greatest of all, could barely weigh the consequence on a scale and declare it good. Yet through tragedy and tears his will will be done! As hard as it may be for him to accept at times.