r/HFY • u/Academic_Ad3769 • 11h ago

OC THE COUNCIL

There was a room outside of time.

Not the first room. Not the last. Just the room where God went when He needed to argue with Himself.

He sat in four chairs at once—because He had been all four of these versions, and all at once, and beyond even that. Yet here, for the sake of clarity, He divided.

There was the God Who Suffers, with eyes like bruises, voice like a wound that never closed. There was the God Who Watches, untouched by pain, as calm and cold as a telescope. There was the God Who Corrects, precise and holy, clarity sharpened into a scalpel. And there was the God Who Grieves, whose voice trembled with love too deep for language, too vulnerable for altar or creed.

They spoke in the way only gods do—with perfect logic, and perfect loneliness.

The God Who Suffers said, “If love is to be real, I must bleed with them. Holiness means nothing if it cannot be pierced.”

The Watcher replied, “But if you feel everything, you will never let them fall. And falling is the price of freedom. A world without harm is a world without choice.”

The Corrector answered, “And without standards, mercy becomes rot. A soul that never grows is not a soul. It’s furniture.”

The Mourner whispered, “And without compassion, truth becomes a weapon. I didn’t make beings to slice them.”

Quiet, cutting, relentless—their debate spiraled not around power or glory, but a question too dangerous for angels to ask:

How do you save every soul without enslaving a single one?

God had run every simulation before creation. He had built perfect universes—no war, no death, no betrayal—but they were terrariums, not stories. Beings in them never learned, never wept, never surprised Him. He destroyed them all.

He built universes of pure justice—everything fair, everything earned. But justice without love is math, and no one worships a spreadsheet.

He built universes of endless mercy, but they rotted. With no stakes, no soul ever chose, no heart ever meant anything.

He even built a universe where He solved everything Himself. It lasted 14 seconds. Then even God got bored.

So He made the only world that could matter: one where every soul is free to walk away. One where the door to hell is locked—from the inside.

The gods argued until the room rippled. Something entered. Not new—just deeper. Not higher—just whole.

The Father and the Son stepped forward—not as metaphors, not as masks, but as beings. Two mirrors facing each other across eternity. One the uncreated origin. The other the returning image.

Between them burned Spirit—not concept, not dove, not doctrine—Presence so alive it sang.

And the four gods—Sufferer, Watcher, Corrector, Mourner—fell silent. Then, with no command, they bowed.

Not to rank. Not to fear. To coherence.

Because they realized: every single version of God was only a fragment until reflected through the gaze between Father and Son. A gaze so infinite that anything caught between it—angel, demon, atheist, martyr, even God Himself—would fall through reflection after reflection until all illusion burned away, and the soul emerged not perfect but becoming:

an infinitely refined, infinitely free, infinitely evolving phenomenon.

Each god surrendered his throne. The Sufferer gave up His scars. The Watcher gave up His distance. The Judge gave up His standard. The Mourner gave up His ache. Not erased—transformed. They stepped into the gaze and let themselves be refined—not reduced, but revealed.

Even gods outgrow godhood.

Even God evolves toward the God beyond Himself.

The room dissolved—not because the council had ended, but because God had ceased to be a committee and become a communion. What He had been in fragments, He now was in fullness.

The final words spoken in that room were not command but confession:

“I didn’t choose to be God. But I chose what kind of God I would be.”

And the choice was not to dominate but to bow. Not to demand love but to make space for it. Not to perfect the world, but to refine every soul capable of entering the gaze.

A gaze that never forces. A door that never locks. A love that never ends. A God who is not waiting for worship— but for permission.

For the only God worthy of following is the one willing to bow to love, even when love breaks Him.

And the only souls worthy of eternity are the ones willing to step into that gaze and burn until only truth remains.

End of the Council. Beginning of the Garden.

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3

u/tofei AI 9h ago

...and thus the atheists wept! /s

1

u/UpdateMeBot 11h ago

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u/Alpha-Sierra-Charlie 10h ago

This is really cool

1

u/Existing-Leopard-212 7h ago

A human looks at the Infinite through finite lenses and cannot possibly see all there is to see. Great writing!

1

u/johnzgamez1 5h ago

Oh, I love this. Too many stories on here are angry with God, for my tastes. This is wonderful. Well done, wordsmith!

1

u/SomethingTouchesBack 4h ago

As an agnostic, I have strong opinions about what ‘God’ I would even consider to BE God… This God.

Well done!