Free Morningstar by S. L. Armstrong Page A

He angry with us that He would hold us apart from Him?
    I had the authority to assemble all the ranks of Heaven before me, though I did so rarely. This was one such time. I called all to hearken to me to attempt to quell the anxiety. I pleaded with my brothers to trust in the Lord God and to be not afraid. Of course the Creator had not forgotten us, nor was He angry. All were welcome at the foot of the Throne, and God's love was still ours alone. Do not question the Divine Plan, I said.
    I did not follow my own advice. I could not silence the questions in my mind. He always knew of my worry, from the first inkling of thought, naturally. God, though, said nothing to me about it, preferring to allow me to approach Him when I could stand the questions no longer.
    "Some of the angels think You are angry with us," I said to Him when I finally found the courage.
    "But thou dost not think this." It was a statement, not a question. The Lord rarely had need of questions.
    "No!" I insisted. "They doth not feel Your love as they once did, and they are frightened. They ask for Your reassurance."
    "Any of My children may come before Me at any time."
    "Yes, Lord, but they are sorely afraid. They are afraid that if they come before You, they will know Your wrath for certain."
    "What is it thou askest of Me?"
    You could be sure that when God asked a question, He already knew the answer. The only reason He asked was to give you a chance to not answer. I was about to ask Almighty God to address the host of Heaven as one, something He had never done. Before there was Time, there was no need; everything He knew, we knew. Obviously, the Separation had occurred because there was something that God knew that He did not want us to know. Who was I, a mere angel, a wisp of thought, to ask the Creator to explain?
    Let me say something here about being in the presence of God. No Man, living or dead, has ever come into the true presence of God, no matter what they may say. Mankind was not created for that purpose. Their fragile bodies could not withstand the physical force of the Love of God. The light alone would blind any human, searing corneas and liquefying retinas. The voice of God would burst eardrums and rupture organs. Even that, though, is incidental. The Lord could easily dim His light and lower His voice to accommodate the weakest of mortals, and yet the strongest of them could no more survive the force of His Love than they could walk on the sun. The closest analogy that could be understood using language is the feeling of being placed underneath the finest microscope ever conceived. Try to imagine the weight of that crushing gaze, the inescapable knowledge that He knows everything—no, Everything—and loves you anyway. Now multiply that by infinity and square the result.
    Could you stand against that?
    I left the Throne without another word.

Time passed, as it always did, and my thoughts consumed me. Radueriel, who knew my heart and mind as he did, sought to quiet those worries. It was then that I realized how Heaven had changed. At one time, all angels expressed their love for one another in a physical manner. We made love as one, there were no partners or relationships. It was an outlet for the overwhelming love we felt for our Lord. But, as the nature of God changed, so did the nature of our expression of that love.
    We were a pair, and I sought no other to slake my lusts. I was his and he was mine, and there were no others. This should have been a sign, and one I should have heeded and spoken to Him about. Instead, I bedded my lover again and again as he soothed my troubled heart with the bliss found between his thighs.
    It was on such a night that I made my decision.
    "Why doth thy brow crease, Morningstar?" he asked me, running his cool lips over my face. "Are thy thoughts troubled again?"
    "My thoughts are ever troubled of late," I replied, cupping his face with my palms, stilling his kisses. "This new Creation worrieth me, for