Thanks Michael. And yes, I’m feeling a little better. (Enough to do ‘work’ work tomorrow anyway, although whether I’ll be up to doing more than ‘work’ work I don’t know.)
My full reply to Michael, by the way, was:
I should note that this isn’t really much of a reply to his actual question, I think. I’ve about burned up all the energy I have today in writing a few minor comments, though, so I’m off to nap. I hope to have something more directly pertinent later.
What I will briefly add in relation my answer above, though (aside from a qualification that I could be easily wrong about the millennial reign at all ), is that I had meant to say something about how this theory would fit into the “reckoning with sinners” Christology that I affirm. Just as God has two kinds of servants, those who are His friends and those who are not His friends (a line I am borrowing from Song of Justice, by the way… ), and just as God acts in (and toward) solidarity with us, whether in our righteousness or our unrighteousness; so we have two options for acting in solidarity with even the worst of sinners. We can either act in solidarity with such sinners as God does, or we can act in solidarity with them as Satan does (which is ironically not in solidarity with each other at all. I make a point of this in Books 2 and 3 when a Cabal of demons affirm things “simultaneously but not together”. Note that while my use of “affirm” may seem grammatically wrong, in this case that’s the point. They are only incidentally acting as “a group”.)
If I give myself airs, that I am “better” than Satan, there’s a pretty good chance that I am in fact acting like another Satan toward Satan. Not like God toward Satan. If the distinction is only one power competing against another power, one power of which happens to be greater, then we are no longer talking about “fair-togetherness” anymore: no longer talking about “righteousness”.
Heh. If I didn’t already have an epic fantasy I was working on, I’d love to set up a novel or two of spec-narrative on how we Christians (and note the link to the common New Testament theme that we Christians are the ones most likely to screw things over more than anyone–not those pagans over there or whatever) could end up botching even the millennial reign of Christ.
Or rather, botching our part of it anyway. Christ doesn’t fail. But apparently we’re going to fail in some epically huge fashion after we think the story has already been won for ‘our side’–probably because some of us will still be thinking in terms of ‘our side’ and ‘their side’ as being more than an accident of history. And if it sounds kind-of panicky weird that God would reveal centuries and millennia ahead of time that we, His “chosen people”, will betray and bleep up so badly: congratulations! Now you know how the Jews in Old Testament times must have felt, reading and hearing far more widespread prophecies to much the same effect! How could we fail?! Hasn’t God chosen us to utterly win?! Hasn’t He already revealed that we’re going to utterly win!?
(Yeah; and the demons in my novels keep seeing the exact same revelation, too: they’re going to utterly win! So how could they possibly fail?! This makes for very satisfying dramatic irony, but it also makes for a lot of angsty tragedy, too, in regard to the people plowed under by these entities who care so much about personally “winning” that they disregard the requirement of fair-togetherness. But then, there’s the thing: God loves His enemies, too. The innocent suffer for the sake of the guilty, because God so loves the whole world–even the guilty.)
And now, I really am off to go nap. (Argh… eyes crossing…)