Like those scenes from Lord of the Rings.
Dark clouds covering the sky, filthy towers of rock raised in defiance of anything that would be green and grow. It's a picture of death. Nothing grows. It's all rock, fire, dirt, dust, stone, ash.
We're in a battle, you know.
I wish it were as simple as slaying the nasty orc in front of me.
But it's different here.
Have you noticed that everything down here has to do with down here?
We love the physical. Physical attraction. Physical possessions. Physical accomplishments. Things we can see. Things we can touch. Things we can experience.
That's the god down here.
Because we're fallen, you and I. Our whole race. We're fallen. We're down here on this earth and it's all we know. We haven't seen anything else. We don't know anything else. We know nothing of glory and cleanliness and brightness and light, though we were made for it. Oh, glorious clear light that dissolves the dark clouds settled over our world. We were made to carry it, you know.
We wish for it, oh how we wish for it. But we can't attain it, we know nothing of it but a memory. A memory deep within that stirs and whispers once and a while, when the rare glimpse of glory is seen.
We long for it, oh we long for it. But the god down here doesn't want us to know that. He doesn't want us to remember. He doesn't want us to remember glory. He does everything he can to snuff out the glimpses, extinguish the reminders. He brings in his trappings and diversions. And oh, how delightful they seem. We forget, for a moment, that we are trapped down here. And we forget the glimpse of glory and our memory sleeps. We are here. We are now. This is it. And it is dark.
Glory invaded this land once, long ago. Our ancestors saw it. Some still speak of it. Some still carry it. But the god of this world is after them and he tries to cover them. He can't stand light. It makes his diversions look cheap. It's better for him if the dusty things stay in cover of night. He likes the clouds that won't go away. And he won't let us leave this land. Those who go looking, find, and they come back different. And he kills them.
I saw the light once. Sometimes it pierces, just a ray of it, in secret places. It changes things, the light does. It's hard to see down here, but when the light comes I can see really clearly. There's a lot of dust down here. And when the light comes, I see just how dirty I am. But the light is clean and it makes me want to be clean too.
Some people here think they carry glory. But they don't. You can't carry glory without the light. They've heard the stories of when the Glorious Light invaded and they are trying to remember. But they haven't seen light themselves, or they have and they are afraid of it. I've met those who carry light. They are the different ones. They are the ones the god of this world is after. They are the warriors, kind and brave and honest. Our land labels them trouble makers and rebels, but I've met them. They are different. They are kind and they are clean.
I like the light. Not everyone does, you know. It scares a lot of people. It embarrasses some, when the light shines on their diversion or their dusty clothes or their dirty hands. It makes some mad, but they are mad because they are embarrassed and don't want to be.
It's dark down here, but not always. When the light-bearers meet together, glory shines, and the place they are meeting in glows. Some people are drawn to it. Some people are afraid of it. But glory shines and the reminder of the Glorious Light that invaded once is there.
They say that someday, this dark land will be invaded with the Glorious Light once again. That someday, the god of this world will be challenged again and that this time, he will fall. No more will he be able to extinguish the light-bearers or keep the land under wrap of night. No more will we be distracted by diversions and dirty secrets. Glory will come, the Light will shine over all and it will make all right.
We will see. And we will see if we are dirty still or if we have been Light-bearers.
But for now, we are here. It is dark, but the memory of the Light still whispers. The Light still pierces and those who find it can carry it if they wish. The Light-bearers know where to find the Light and they teach how to carry it. The dusty glory-bearers know where to find the light too, and they talk about it. And when they meet together, they talk about it and they light some candles. But it is not the piercing, clean, glorious Light that I have seen.
The Light shines in the darkness and the darkness can not understand it or overtake it, though it tries. The dark ones kill the light-bearers, but the Light keeps piercing and people keep finding it.
The Light keeps piercing and people keep finding it.
Glorious Light. It found me too.
