Saturday, June 11, 2016

The Second Part of the Stars

While I was thinking about choice the other day, I wondered to myself if I had truly signed up for this mortal experience in the first place, and what my other options were.

I know that everyone who came to Earth had at least one opportunity to opt out. We didn't have to come here and suffer through a mortal life. There was another plan presented, and those who elected to follow that plan went a different route, bypassing mortality altogether. Those spirits never had to experience the physical pain and suffering that we experience here, and they never will. But there's a catch: these spirits who evaded the curse of mortality did so by following Satan into Outer Darkness.

This was, of course, not a great choice. If this was the only alternative to experiencing mortality, there's no wonder we all decided to experience mortality. But this seems like a pretty serious ultimatum to me. It's hard to imagine God forcing all of His children to either got to Earth or go to hell. It seems to me that there must have been a third option, one that didn't involve either physical or eternal suffering.

In Revelations, the dragon (representing Satan) drew away "the third part of the stars of heaven" (representing pre-mortal spirits). Many people have taken this to mean that Satan convinced one-third of the host of heaven to follow him, while the remaining two-thirds followed God's plan to go to Earth. But this scripture could just as easily mean that the host of heaven was divided into three parts. The first part followed God's plan, and the third part followed Satan, but what of the second part?

Could it be that, at that pre-mortal council, we were given the option to stay where we were? I'm told that we had hit the limit of our progression as spirits, and to get any farther in our quest to become like God, we would have to experience mortality. But what if some of us, not liking the sound of the "suffering" we were told we would experience, decided that we had already come as far as we wanted to and that we would rather stay where we were than take our chances on Earth? Was that option open to us? If so, that suggests a few interesting implications.

The most important implication is that, even with the option to avoid all suffering, I chose to come here, whereas I could have stayed behind. I really did "sign up for this," and I did so when I had alternatives other than following Satan into hell. This means that, at least one point, I had the courage to say "I know this is going to be difficult, but I know that's it's going to be worth it." It means that I actually chose to come here.

That makes me feel a little bit better about being here. I don't know if it's true or not, in fact, it probably isn't, but I don't care. If it turns out that we only had two options: God's plan, or Satan's, then I would feel as though I had been somewhat forced. Sure, I still "chose" to come here, but when your only other option is to spend an eternity with Satan, that's not much of a choice. I feel much better about my decision to be born when I think that I actually had another valid option. Whether it's true or not, the thought that I could have stayed in heaven strengthens my resolve to face my challenges on Earth. I decided to come here. That was my choice. I made this decision, knowing that it would be difficult, but feeling that it would be worth it. I find it encouraging to think that I chose to rise to the challenge of mortality, whereas I might have otherwise decided to spend an eternity with the second part of the stars.

1 comment:

motherof8 said...

That is an interesting thought. Possibly we could have stayed where we were and never be more than ministering angels or something like that. The flaw in that theory is that I think I am the kind of person who might have made that choice, but here I am . Not only on earth, but on earth during a time when the most valiant spirits are being sent to prepare for the Lord's coming. Now, I am probably a generation or two off from that valiant group, but close, surprisingly close.