On Creation, the Fall, and Repentance
A Meditation on Reality, Good & Evil, and Turning Back to the Lord
May the grace of the Lord be upon us, and may He grant us understanding. Amen.
With boldness, I restate the proclamation of the Church, that goodness surrounds us—that the objective state of the universe is goodness itself. What limits our experience of that goodness is not its absence, but our own capacity to receive it. And that limitation is a measure of our sinfulness—not in the crude sense of wrongdoing alone, but in the deeper sense of separation from God.
When Scripture tells us that in the beginning God created heaven and earth, and that it was good, this is meant quite literally. God, who is good and loving, willed goodness into existence. From the very beginning, He also willed our salvation. And knowing our weakness, He knew that we would turn from Him. For this reason, the promise of Heaven—the true and eternal paradise—was never an afterthought. It was always part of His mercy.
Earth, then, was given to us as a place of formation: a place where we would learn to love, to choose rightly, and to prepare ourselves for our true homeland—the eternal Fatherland.
Facing the Light, a shadow of darkness fell behind man. At first, it was unnoticed. Then it was disregarded.
Then fear emerged from it—like the darkness that surrounds a campfire in the wilderness. Though warmth and light stand before us, uncertainty lurks beyond their reach. The unseen begins to whisper. The unknown begins to stir.
And soon, fear gave way to intrigue. The darkness appeared to hold untamed potential—mystery, power, possibility. And into this natural curiosity the Evil One poured his voice, filling the darkness with empty promises. He promised something more. Something other. Something “better.”
But how could anything be better than the Lord Himself?
Satan, knowing our weakness, did not tempt us with destruction, but with vainglory and self-derived wisdom—with a vision of fulfillment apart from God. Knowing that man was made in the image of God, he distorted this gift and redirected it, urging man not to become godlike through communion, but to become “god” alone.
He placed artificial light where there was no Light—the Goodness of God, apart from God. And in our weakness, we turned toward it.
Yet man did not become evil. Nor did creation itself become evil. Nothing God made was corrupted at its root. Rather, decay entered the world—along with the disease of sinfulness. By turning away from God and toward darkness, we made manifest what had only been potential. Creation did not cease to be good; it became disordered. Its orientation shifted. Our desire for God faced the temptation of the self.
And here the ancient question inevitably rises: Why would a good and loving God allow evil to exist at all?
The answer lies in freedom. Love, to be real, must be free. If man had no option but to look toward the Lord—if no other choice existed—then there would be no true love, only coercion. The presence of evil is not a flaw in the design; it is the necessary space for love to exist.
Evil is not a substance. It is not a created thing. Rather, it is the absence of God’s presence—a shadow cast by the turning away of the will. It is the result of freedom misused.
The first to misuse this freedom was not a man, but an angel. Being noetic, bodiless beings, the angels experience time and will differently than humans. Their choice is complete the moment it is made. And so, when the highest of them—called Lucifer, the “light-bearer”—turned away from God, that turning was irreversible. He became the first creature to reject the Light, and thus became the Evil One.
Even Satan, in essence, is not “evil”—for nothing God created is evil in itself. But in his rebellion, he became the enemy of all goodness. Not because he sought to rule a kingdom of evil—but because he sought to be god without God. He desired a kingdom, not to serve others in love, but to enthrone himself in pride.
And so, the war began—not for Satan to build a rival kingdom, but to drag every soul into the same delusion:
To make gods of themselves.
To believe they could attain glory without grace.
To exalt pride over humility, self-will over obedience, isolation over communion.
That is why evil still persists. Because love still requires freedom. And the Lord, in His humility, never forces Himself upon us—but continually offers the Way, the Truth, and the Life.
The goal of humanity, here on earth, is to willingly turn ourselves back toward the Lord—to be healed of our fragmentation, to grow in His love, and to share in His glory. From the very beginning, He promised that we would become godlike—not in pride, but through participation in His divine life.
But this is far easier said than done. The entire arc of human history—captured in Scripture—bears witness to our repeated failure to live in communion with God. Again and again, mankind chose the path of self-will, to live by the flesh, to be lured by the voice of the Evil One, who operates unseen through temptation. And yet, again and again, the Lord, in His mercy, intervened—not to destroy us, but to cleanse and renew.
At key moments, He allowed humanity to start again. In the time of Noah—a rare man who remained faithful amidst a world of corruption—the Lord preserved life and entrusted him with the hope of a final renewal.
From that point forward, a red thread of divine intervention weaves clearly through history. It is not a story of arbitrary “chosen people,” as some misunderstand. Rather, it is a story of those who chose God—those who, in their humility and faith, made room for Him to act.
The Lord our God is today as He was then, and will be forever—full of love for mankind.
But we, in our wretchedness, have turned away from Him. We have chosen our own devices. We have crowned ourselves as gods. And in doing so, we have chosen the tunnel with darkness at the end—and race toward oblivion.
Rather than submitting to the revelation of the Lord, we seek to create revelations of our own. We build idols in our minds. We make kingdoms of clay.
How proud we have become. How ignorant we remain.
But in His unfathomable love, the Lord came to save us. Not in secret. Not in shadow. But openly.
Like a divine physician speaking plainly to the sick, He told us what we must do to be healed.
And yet—like the Scribes, we ask for signs. Like the Pharisees, we pray for abundance. Like children, we refuse the medicine.
But Lord—we who have been given eyes to see—see truly Your gift to us.
You have given us the Church as a hospital for the soul. You have given us a place to heal, to be restored, to lift up our fallen image, and to become like You—our Lord Jesus Christ—
Who alone is Good,
Who alone is Love,
Who alone is Virtue.
You came and overcame death, so that we might never fear death again.
You shone Light in every corner of darkness—
in abandonment, in suffering, in rejection, in shame.
And You did not come as a king in golden robes, but as a child in a cave.
You dwelt among us.
You assumed all of our weakness, so that our weakness might be sanctified.
And by Your Incarnation and perfect obedience to the Father, You gave us the gift of becoming like God.
Glory to You, O Lord.
Draw the sword of Your Word against deception.
Teach us to bow low in the remembrance of our true substance—dust—
to which You breathed the breath of life.
Let us not take pride in our glory, but rejoice in it, and give You praise for all things.
Let us turn away from evil in all things—for evil is any place where You are not—and any place without You is darkness.
Therefore, anything not Good is bad.
And all things are only Good with You.
So help us, Lord, entrust every breath to You—so that each one may be returned to us, sanctified.
Reveal to us the unseen anchors of the soul, that we may be set free.
Give us the courage to leap from the faltering cliffs of our own beliefs into the ocean of Your mercy.
Let us find peace and rest, like babes in the womb of Your creation.
Let our time on this earth become the battleground where temptation is slain—and the works of the Evil One destroyed.
Let us take our stand as soldiers of Christ:
clothed in the armor of virtue,
wielding the sword of truth,
joyfully embracing the fruits of sacrifice and service—whether in deed, in word, or in thought.
Fill every moment with Your goodness, O Lord.
Let our love for You mirror the Theotokos,
and our love for each other mirror Yours for all mankind.
Reveal to us our sin, and give us joy in the pursuit of its perfection.
Let repentance be our gladness, stronger than the intrigue of despair or the shadow of hopelessness that lingers near.
Most of all, Lord—do not let us grow lazy in the journey.
Place our feet firmly on the Rock of Your Truth.
Let love carry us forward without fear, toward the eternal Kingdom, and into the splendor of Your saints.
And finally—guard us from the pride that follows zeal.
Let us not glory in our strength, but remember that we are dust.
We are the ones who turned away.
And by Your grace alone, we are the ones brought home.
We have prayed deeply thus far, let us now pause and renounce Satan, for the Evil One circles like a vulture when the will grows weak.
Having revisited the glorious revelation of the Lord and exposed the virus that infects the world, the enemy and his armies now seek after our souls. Satan tempts us to turn our backs to the Light—for in doing so, we see only darkness, and begin to mistake it for truth.
And when we face the Light, he pushes us to stare too deeply—to grasp beyond what has been given, that we may be burned by our pride in pondering the very essence of the Lord.
But rather, let us stand in faith and humility, receiving only the Light that has been given to us. And in its goodness, let us rejoice.
Let us not follow the word of heretics, who, puffed up by reason, attempt to pierce the veil of divine mystery. Let us not demand to understand the essence of God, for the curtain will not be drawn.
Some things are hidden in mercy. It is best that mystery remain mystery—lest we attempt to hold in our small and fragile souls that which would crush them.
For the Lord has given us His energies, His grace, and His love—this is enough. Let us be content with the Light He shines before our feet.
Glory to the Lord for such a defense against the Evil One—the sword that is Truth.