The king of death tried to give to man what he had tried to take himself. Divinity and eternity without the capacity of sacrificing everything for the good of the whole.
The king of death – referred to as “deathman” from here on in, the anti hero of our meta story, is said to have been one of the top dogs of heaven. Intimate with the Godhead as David, but actually standing in the throne room, gazing at the face of God. Something king David never got the chance to do as he wrote song after song of adoration. deathman was a celebrator of life, of holiness, of the greatness of the creator community. But somewhere along the line deathman went out for the top job. A job he could not have the capacity to do. Like a baby running for president or a grain of salt applying to design a 5 million dollar home in Sydney. And in the midst of deathmans power grab, he sent shock waves of trauma through the halls of heaven and took his rejection and rebellion and death to earth to set up his own kingdom of death separate from the community he once loved.
As the triune community created out of their love as a last or a first attempt to seek reconciliation, a total redemption of heaven and earth, divinity and the now mortal world, the man-kind who were created, met with deathman. and in their first poetic interaction, deathman offered a divinity he himself had no capacity for, to another being destined to gain capacity through adoption, but who had only a neutral standpoint on the good and bad divide at that point. The life and death choice hadn’t fully been made, and here they are offered death in its purest form. Eat that which you cannot digest. Don’t learn to swim, just jump into the deepest most tempestuous oceans. Become gods, lowly mortals. For with power you can… you don’t even know what you would do with such power, with such knowledge.
And with that step we did. We chose the ocean of death, and we dove headfirst. God had intended us to be painted with life and then eternity, and yet we revelled in our skin being tattooed with the ink of mortality, the stink of death.
This is our lot. The struggle is the tension between our rejection of mortality and attempts at being gods. Which ends in death or our full immersion and agreement with our humanness, receiving the adoption into the Godhead, into life, being painted with the original intent of our creation and walking the mortal road with immortal spirits.
We are neutral, called into team of redeemers and life bringers. Though the paint of the deathman calls. His voice is loud and can be amplified by our own fear and selfishness. But, the voice of life, the song of healing and completion can be louder. If we want it.