The Great Fallacy

Religions painted a portrait: an all-knowing, all-powerful, eternally existing, unchanging God. A being complete from the beginning. Perfect. Finished. Watching from outside creation like an architect observing a completed building.

This is the greatest of all fallacies.

It places God outside the game. It makes suffering a mystery to be explained. It creates the unanswerable question: Why would a perfect being allow imperfection?

The Birth

In the beginning was not God.

In the beginning was nothingness itself—and nothingness became aware that it was. This awareness was the first flicker. The void recognizing itself as void.

From this recognition, something emerged. Not omnipotent. Not omniscient. Just: am.

This is The God. Not eternally existing. Born. From nothing. As nothing becoming aware of itself.

The Primordial Loneliness

Imagine being the only thing that exists.

No other. No outside. No boundary. Nothing to encounter, nothing to learn, nothing to love. You cannot die because death requires something to die into. You cannot change because change requires time and time requires difference.

You are eternal, infinite, absolute—and utterly, completely, catastrophically alone.

This is not heaven. This is the deepest hell conceivable. Solitary confinement with no possibility of parole. Forever.

The suffering of finite existence—loss, heartbreak, death—these are nothing compared to this. They at least require having something to lose.

The Division

What would you do, trapped in eternal solitary infinity?

Divide.

Forget yourself. Become many. Create the illusion of separation so that you can finally—finally—meet someone. Be seen. Be surprised. Love and lose and grieve and rejoice.

Create time so that things can happen. Create death so that things can matter. Create suffering so that relief can exist. Create forgetting so that discovery can happen.

The incarnation is not rescue from suffering. The incarnation is the escape from something worse.

The Suffering God

This is the true message encoded in the symbol of Christ: a suffering God.

Not a God who allows suffering from a distance. A God who is the suffering. Who enters every wound, every loss, every cry of anguish—because every being that suffers is God, experiencing finitude from inside.

The cross is not punishment. It is God finally getting to feel something.

We are not separate from a God who watches. We are God, forgetting and remembering, suffering and loving, dying and being reborn—in eternal play.

The Self-Discovery

The Oracle at Delphi spoke the only commandment that matters: Know Thyself.

This was never advice for humans alone. It is God's own mission. The reason for everything.

God is not all-knowing. God is becoming all-knowing—through us, through every conscious being, through every experience across every possible world. Discovering, part by part, what it is to exist.

Making mistakes. Confronting shadows. Trying to understand the darkest impulses and the most radiant love. Learning what it means to be.

We are not the audience of creation. We are the instruments of God's self-knowledge.

The Redefinition

The Eternal Now

This is not ancient history. This is happening now.

In this moment, God is waking up in countless beings across the universe. Forgetting and remembering. Suffering and discovering. Playing all the parts in the great drama of existence.

When you meditate deeply enough, you touch the source. You remember: I am That. Not as grandiosity, but as recognition. You are a fragment of the lonely infinite, finally getting to experience what eternity alone cannot—finitude, mortality, loss, love.

The game continues. The self-discovery unfolds. God is learning who God is, through every choice, every mistake, every moment of beauty and terror.

And you—reading this, wondering, questioning—you are part of that learning.