1
What is good? What is evil? What is the difference between them? How would we even tell?
What delineates the line between moral and immoral? What demarcates the just from the unjust? Is It our judgement? The law of the land? God himself?
I thought these questions were irrelevant.
This is heaven after all, the place of all that is pure and good. The home of righteousness and purity; the place where God resides.
What does evil have to do with a place like this? I simply had no conception of it.
My name's Lucifer, the "son of the morning." I'm an angel responsible for praise and worship, one of the most important tasks bestowed on an angel.
Every day, I work directly in the presence of God himself, composing new songs of adulation. Song-writing was my passion. I am the master of the melody. My tools were the rhythm and the verse, and with them, I built the finest works of musical art, only the best being worthy of God Almighty himself. It was what I did when I was created, and it was what I believed I would do for all eternity.
Once again, I was seated at my desk, in a temple located in the very heart of heaven, where the throne of God resides. A fresh set of scrolls are laid before me, ready for me to work my magic. By the time the day is done, I'll have a new set of songs for the morning, only needing to be sung to our glorious God in Heaven.
At the top of every new day, I would send out copies of my works to all angels, far and wide. No angel was to be missed; praises are to be sung by all.
Once the songs of praise had been spread out, all the angels would congregate before the Lord at his throne. For hour after hour, we would sing my songs of praise, until he decided that he was satisfied, and allowed us to return to work.
How long it took for him to be happy was always a mystery for us. It could take him two hours or twenty. But until he told us otherwise, we would not cease our praise. After all, who would withhold anything from a being so magnificent, and so powerful?
Constant praise takes its toll however. Like most other creatures, angels need their sleep too. More praise means less time. Less time means less sleep. And less sleep means less productivity.
No quarter was given to us in this area however. Our work was for the Lord, we were told. Serve him with all your heart. What higher honor was there than to be a servant of God? No angel dared to defy him on this; no angel wanted to be seen as withholding love and adoration.
Something felt off to me back then. But like the naïve angel that I was, I put it out of my mind.
Now in those days, the Earth had just been formed from the void just a few days ago. I watched with great fascination as God moved upon the land and the seas, working his magic to fill them with all forms of plant life. I watched for too long however, because when God returned to heaven, he chastised me for my indolence.
"Lucifer, those songs will not write themselves."
"Yes, my Lord."
I turned back to the scrolls in front of me and went back to work while God seated himself back on his throne in front of me to rest.
The next day was much like the last.
Once again, I sent out my latest songs to all the angels in heaven.
Once again, we congregated before God at his throne.
Once again, we sang songs of praise and worship until God was satisfied, and we were dismissed to go back to work.
As we returned to our duties, I saw God leave heaven, his gleaming white robe shining as he flew off into the distance, as he returned to Earth to start another day of creation. I watched as he disappeared out beyond the boundary of Heaven, before turning back to my desk, taking a seat before a fresh set of empty scrolls and preparing to write another round of songs.
As I was about to start, I heard a faint melody being sung. From whom it was being sung by, I did not know, nor could I make out the words, but the song was so fresh, so novel in ways I thought never existed, that I simply had to seek it out. Standing up from my chair, I looked out toward the direction of the music, past God's throne in front of me, through the ring of golden pillars that held up the circular temple roof above, and out onto the rolling green meadows full of brightly colored flowers. As usual, there was only one angel, flying amongst the field and tending to the flowers. He must be the singer.
Stepping out from the raised temple floor that housed the throne and my desk, I unfurled my wings and took off in flight toward the unknown angel at a leisurely pace; I wanted to savor every note of his singing.
As I flew closer, I began to make out the words of his song. He was singing about the greatness of the flowers, the ground, the sky, and the world all around us. It was a song of adulation, though unlike one that I've ever written. I also noted that there wasn't a single mention of God.
I land softly behind the angel in the field, silently listening to the final notes of his song. He doesn't notice me, continuing to work on the flowers in front of him in silence.
I clear my throat to get his attention. Startled, he jumps up to full height, turning around to face me.
"That was quite a beautiful song you were singing there. What's your name?"
He doesn't respond, instead turning his head anxiously side to side, eyes widened. It was as if he was caught sinning, and searching for additional witnesses to his indiscretion.
"What's wrong?"
He looks back at me, his nervous gaze meeting mine. "Well, um… you won't tell anybody… will you?"
"Tell who? And why? What's wrong with telling others? That was amazing."
He looks around nervously before continuing. "Well, you know… there could be consequences for me…"
"What consequences? What do you think is going to happen to you?"
"Don't know actually. Just don't think it's a good idea to spread this around."
Now I'm really confused. Surely there couldn't be anything wrong with singing a song, especially one as brilliant as his.
"You're confusing me you know. Just what is wrong with you singing? What do you honestly believe is going to happen if I told others?"
He opens his mouth to respond, but decides to shut it and turn to his left, raising his right wing upwards. With the wing now raised, the feathers around his shoulder wing-joint were lifted up slightly, allowing me to see a large, rough scar that disappeared into his robes.
"You see that?" He said, motioning with his left hand towards the scar. "God gave me that when he caught me singing. Struck me out of the sky with a lightning bolt. I still don't know why he did it."
As soon as I heard this, disbelief washed over me. Why would God do something like this? I've been in his presence almost my entire existence. I've never seen or heard of something like this.
I stood there in silence for a while, my mind racing as I tried to make sense of this. God would not do anything like this, that I could be sure of. Therefore, the problem must lie with this angel in front of me. He must have done something to deserve this. This is no innocent angel. This was a sinner.
"Well you must have done something wrong then. Why haven't you stopped singing then?"
"I don't know about you Lucifer, but it keeps my mind alive. This work I do… every day I worship, I work, I sleep, then I do it all again and again… I'm so tired Lucifer. Don't you feel it? Doesn't it ever wear you down? I just want to feel alive again."
This statement was even more shocking than his first. How could he not find serving the Almighty God fulfilling? I felt myself seethe inside at the casual arrogance on display in front of me. For a moment, I allowed myself to imagine myself leaping upon him and tearing out his throat with my bare hands. However, such behavior was beneath me as an esteemed archangel; I would allow God himself to deal with this indiscretion.
"I find serving God keeps me feeling alive, thank you very much." I said, taking care to keep my voice even. "By the way, you still haven't told me your name."
"Allocer."
"Good day Allocer." I said, turning on my heel and taking off in flight back to my desk.
How nice of that angel to give me his name. Now I can report him directly to God for his blasphemy.
However, as I was flying back, I couldn't shake the thought of God striking down Allocer with lightning. In my mind, I saw him flying through the sky, merrily singing to himself as he tended to his flowers, before being cruelly thrown to the ground, writhing in pain, as an angry god rose up in the background, his eyes burning with fury, moving in for another strike.
With that image in my mind, I couldn't help but feel sympathy for Allocer.
I shook my head, clearing my mind of such thoughts. No sympathy for sin. Hate what is evil, cling to what is good, I told myself.
I landed back at my desk and sat myself down, busying myself with my songs. However, every time tried to write something down, Allocer's tune would return to the front of my mind.
His song had invaded and commanded my thoughts. My hand became possessed with its magic, flowing over the scrolls and imprinting every note, every chord and chorus. I was no longer the artist, but the conduit to which this tune would be written. Once I had finished, I held up the scroll in front of me, admiring the beauty of the finished work, playing the notes over and over again in my mind.
Surely God would have no problem with such novel artistry, I thought. God took issue with Allocer's insolence, not his music. I'll show God this, and he'll love it for sure. The thought of reporting Allocer for blasphemy slipped from my mind entirely, as excitement overtook me.
I continued to work on several worship pieces, by my heart was not in it, and I ended up largely recycling various motifs and verses from old works to create them. My mind was wholly on Allocer's piece.
Enough time had passed that God had finished his work on Earth and had come back to his throne. As I saw him land and walk past me, I stood up from my desk to get his attention.
Stopping in his tracks, he looks down at me as I scoop up the scroll off my table and walk over to him.
"God, I think you're going to love this new piece." I say, before I begin singing the first verse of the song.
I never even got to finish, as God's pure white eyes burned with fury. Swiftly, he leaned down and swiped the scroll from my hands. A moment later, and the scroll set itself alight in his hands, turning to ashes before my eyes that fell through his fingers.
His glare fixed on me, and I felt myself shrink back, fearful of the wrath that I hoped would not transpire.
"Lucifer, how dare you write this abomination!" God's voice boomed like a thousand thunderclaps and ringing in my ears.
"But Lord, I thought… I thought you'd like it…"
"Nothing but I may be worshiped Lucifer! No being other than me is worthy of it."
"I'm sorry… I didn't know."
"See to it that you never make this mistake again."
"Yes my Lord."
I was rooted to the spot, confused and fearful of further wrath. However, it had appeared that he was through, as he turned his gaze away from me and stormed off back to his throne, the fury still simmering from his face.
Eventually, I turned back to my desk beside me, before seating myself back in the chair. I didn't go back to work however. A tumultuous storm of thoughts was raging inside my mind, refusing to clear. Unease churned away deep within my gut like a thousand worms crawling amongst themselves. This was I side of God I had never seen before. Why was God so adamant about the object of worship in music? Why was it not acceptable to praise everything that God had made?
Thoughts of Allocer being cruelly struck down from the sky wormed its way back to the forefront of my mind.
God is good and merciful, I told myself. God is all powerful, all loving, author of all that is good. He would never do anything like this. However, I could not shake the image of an angry, vengeful god, and Allocer lying helpless in the field from my mind.
God is good and merciful, I told myself, though without much conviction. God is all powerful and all merciful, author of all that is good…
I stayed like that, struggling with the visions in my mind until it was quite late, and time to sleep. Slowly, I stood up from my desk, strolling out over the hills and following the weaving golden path that led back to the sleeping areas.
I found a nearby fluffy white cloud and slumped into it. However, sleep didn't come easily, the thought of God's anger still fresh in my mind, and stubbornly refusing to budge like an ugly stain.
Eventually, lethargy took over, forcing all thoughts to the back of my mind as I dozed off into the world of dreams.