You’ve
heard it said: If at first you don’t succeed…try, try again. But I say to you:
If at first you DO succeed, why not capitalize on your success? At least,
that’s how it started.
I will
never forget that first time. It was so easy. And that surprised me. I figured
with everything new and perfect, with the relationship between creature and
Creator just beginning to blossom, coaxing those two away would be a challenge.
But it wasn’t.
I could
never really understand why God did it – “creation”, I mean. He had that
perfect place – beautiful and harmonious – except for that one time, of course,
and that was MY doing! Some folks said He was lonely. But how could God be
lonely? I mean all those angels and archangels and seraphim and cherubim and
principalities and powers; constantly singing the praises of the Deity. I sang
right along, back in the day always a little under the pitch, always just behind
the beat, always getting dirty looks from that goody-two-shoes Michael.
And
there was always that One – always present, always quiet, just “there” at –
which side was it? God’s right side, I think. Do I miss that place? Not much. Was
my rebellion worth it? Of course it was. Of course it was….
But, I
digress….
So
there they were. In the middle of that garden. With that big tree. Everything
in that garden was theirs for the taking – well, almost. Everything in that
garden was theirs for the taking except for the fruit of that one tree. You’d
have thought they’d be satisfied, and perhaps they were.
But you
see, from my point of view it was just so tempting, and they don’t call me “Tester
of Loyalties” for nothing! I just had to see what it would take to ruin it all.
Well, it didn’t take much. Who knew a serpent, of all God’s creatures, could be
so persuasive? And how did such a creature even get into that perfect setting
in the first place…? Ah, that’s a story for another time.
Anyhow,
as I said, it didn’t take much, and it didn’t take long. A little persuasion, a
little reassurance that they wouldn’t actually die (whatever that even meant) a
couple of quick and tasty bites. Then came the confrontation with their Creator;
and that was the end of THAT perfect “paradise”! When those two understood that
“naked” is what they were; when they were driven out, fig leaves and all; when
they discovered what it does, in fact, mean to die; that’s when I knew I had
them in the palm of my hand.
“Be
fruitful and multiply,” God had tole them. Boy, did they ever! First came their
two sons – nasty business!
Fratricide
in an open field. “Am I my brother’s keeper?” Evidently not.
They
were just the first. And as time went on, I watched them fall like dominoes,
generation after generation. (Oh, that golden calf was inspired!) Kings,
rulers, generals, the common folk…even the so-called “faithful”,
could not
resist what life with me promised.
And so
it went, on and on and one. Until it all changed.
The One
who had always been present, whom I remembered so vividly from my time in that
other realm
arrived
to walk this earth, not so different from anyone else, it appeared – but I knew
what was up.
Born in
a stable. Really? A stable? I tried hard to nip that in the bud. Just a little
whisper in King Herod’s ear would surely do the trick. And it would have, too,
if it weren’t for that busybody Gabriel and his late-night dream visitations.
So I
waited. And waited. I waited until, of all things, the very Spirit of God set
up the opportunity. “This is my Son, the Beloved” – now get thee into the
wilderness.
And there
He was, in the desert, fasting. All alone. Maybe he’d like some company. Surely
I had him now, just like the two in that garden so long ago.
We
hadn’t seen each other in so very long. I was well-fed and sassy; he was thin:
gaunt and wasted. And that gave me my first idea.
“Here,”
I said, “these stones. Surely you of all people can turn them into anything you
want. Bread, perhaps? You must be famished.” But no, he would rather “live by
God’s word”. Strike one.
So I
took him with me to a place I don’t usually frequent – to the very house of
God. To the highest point on the top of the temple. “Here,” I said, “look how
high we are. Think how powerful you’d feel just gliding through the air. Why
not jump? Surely you of all people can make the angels catch you before you hit
the ground.” But no, he had no interest in testing the Deity that way. Strike
two.
So I
thought, and I thought; and finally it came to me. We went up to a mountain top
- and from there we could see all the “kingdoms” of the world, all the places
of power and wealth and undeserved privilege, where people had given me their
souls and they didn’t even realize it. “Here,” I said, “look at all this
influence, all these riches. Surely you of all people deserve to have all this;
and I alone can give it to you.”
He
looked me right in the eye. And I saw that I had underestimated this rival, and
I knew I had lost. It was over.
For
now. Strike three.
A
lesser fallen angel might have quit right then and there. But quitting has
never been my style. I have all kinds of patience. After all, I’ve got all the
time in – well, in the world. At some point – who knows? There might even be
another contest. But the world is a big place, it’s a troubled place, and if
there’s one thing my experience has taught me, it’s this: There will always be
others. Lots and lots of others.
