And I was thinking of God’s love, and how the greatest proof of His love is the creation of Lucifer. Yes. I think God’s ultimate proof of love is Lucifer’s creation.
As He was fashioning this amazing being, the Father was signing His own Son’s death decree. Moreover, Jesus Himself, as part of the Godhead, co-existent with the Father from eternity (probably taking part in his creation too?), sealed his own death at Lucifer’s creation.
God’s love is the strongest love ever, because He CREATED the one who will cause rebellion against Him, misery, and pain all throughout the universe. And God knew what He was doing. He knew that, by creating Lucifer, He allowed sin to enter the world.
Was Lucifer predestined to sin? No. No one is predestined. The rebel could have been any other rational and free-willed being that God created. It was a “risk” that God had to take in regards to everyone He gave life to. But He knew, when He created Lucifer, that he was going to be the rebel. Yet He created him nevertheless, and moreover, entrusted him with wonderful gifts, and loved him. He loved him infinitely much.
To bring something out of NOTHING, stand before that lovely being, look him into the eyes, and love the very one who would pierce your heart, hurting you and other millions and billions of hearts? Love him completely, because a God who IS love can do and be nothing less than this? About this incredible I find God’s love to be!
In our world, people bow their hearts in admiration for those rare humans who confess to forgive and love their son or daughter’s slayer. This is biiig. It’s extraordinary. It’s … almost unimaginable. But now, would they create the murderer? Would they choose (should they have the capacity) to bring into existence that being? I don’t know…
When I was little I, like most other girls, also liked to play with dolls. I had several of them, unique to my world just as much as we, humans, are unique in the real world. And of course, I would assign them personality, character traits, names, and roles. At times I was their doctor, treating all kinds of diseases, as known to my childhood mind; but most often I was their teacher (go figure). They would come to school (my room), where I would seat them orderly on my bed, and then I proceeded to teach the lesson. Sometimes I read to them, sometimes I sang (they were in the choir too!), and I also carried imaginary conversations with them. I even had a book (usually one of my reading books) where I kept records of their names and grades.
Of all the dolls that I had, there was one I loved. I cared for all the others, but I had a special affection for this one. She was made out of a very soft material, that caused her head to fall on the side, making her look very humble and vulnerable. In fact, she could almost never keep her head straight. She was thin and cushiony. Only her face was distinct, but the rest of her was all red material shaped into some sort of a body, with flailing arms and legs, and undistinguished fingers on her hands and feet.
The name I gave her was Mochita (I cannot use the proper character, but it is t with a comma under, and it reads mo-ki-tza), and is derived from moaca, a Romanian jargon used to call someone who is kind of a weak personality, someone everyone would run over, someone who is not defensive, somewhat selfless, vulnerable. My doll’s name recognized these traits, but it was a diminutive of the jargon. It was the diminutive of affection.
Mochita was not very beautiful. Her hair was not soft and curly. In fact, her face was surrounded by some of the same material the rest of her body was made of. Her eyes were not dazzling. Her body was kind of misshaped. She never wore a dress in all her life.
My other dolls were more “normal”: face, hands, fingers and toes, hair, and outfits. I liked combing their hair, I admired their beautiful dresses, and I liked them. But the one I loved was Mochita. I loved Mochita not in spite of how she was, but BECAUSE of how she was. And yet, the doll was not a soul to love back, to offer something back. So you’d think… Let me explain then why I say I loved her because of how she was. Well, the truth of the matter is, I loved her for what she made me to be. She was not a soul to love me back, no; but, in fact, she offered me something. She offered me an incredible gift: the capacity to love.
You see, all the other dolls were OK, they were whole; they were great. I admired them. But Mochita touched my heart of child. She just did. I loved her simply because of who she was, and because of what she was like. I wonder now… what would my childhood have looked like without Mochita?
Love finds its strength in weaknesses.
The more damaged someone is, the more she/he can be loved.
The more blemished we are, the more unblemished can love grow to be.
I think God’s greatest capacity to love (I am speaking in human terms – it so appears to me) was shown at the creation of Lucifer. Should we judge by the extent of someone’s sin’s effects, he is by far the most faulty being ever. And yet God, knowing what this creature would bring about, choose to impart him life, and to love him.
Being able to know the future, He could have chosen to not create the rebel, or any other being that would have rebelled, like Lucifer. But because He is life, and love, He cannot help but create, and love.
And I am just simply amazed at how much love He proved by creating Lucifer. I think this is God’s ultimate proof of utmost love. And this is the God I believe in. A God who has the strength to create the weakest, faultiest, and most damaged - to be creature, and love that .
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