All theological positions are based on one’s philosophy of life, not the scriptures.
It’s like a game of Dodgeball. The team you’re on is determined by your philosophical presuppositions. The scriptures are just the balls being thrown around.
All theological positions are based on one’s philosophy of life, not the scriptures.
It’s like a game of Dodgeball. The team you’re on is determined by your philosophical presuppositions. The scriptures are just the balls being thrown around.
I put the following scenario to AI and asked, if this scenario were true, what would it look like to us…
Imagine a God who creates a perfect universe and entrusts its care to powerful spiritual beings. Over time, however, these beings fail in their duty, and the universe begins to decay and succumb to evil. In this fallen state, physical life emerges and evolves, eventually giving rise to humans.
After a long period, the creator God decides to rescue the universe. Importantly, in doing so, God does not alter or violate the original laws that were set in place at creation. Instead, the rescue requires God to enter the universe itself, initiating a process of restoration without breaking any of its inherent rules.
If such a cosmic drama were unfolding, humans would likely experience it as both a profound physical and spiritual transformation—a kind of messianic or restorative intervention that reshapes reality on multiple levels. Here are some aspects of how it might appear:
Because the creator God respects the universe’s established laws, the rescue would manifest through natural processes that seem extraordinary. Humans might witness:
For the inhabitants, the intervention could be experienced as the arrival of a savior or enlightened figure who embodies the creator’s essence:
The rescue wouldn’t be merely a set of isolated miracles; it would ripple through the fabric of human culture and individual lives:
Even with this divine intervention, the natural laws—and human freedom—would remain intact. This means:
To the human eye, the creator God’s rescue of a fallen universe would resemble a profound, lawful miracle—a reawakening marked by extraordinary natural events, the appearance of a transformative savior figure, and an ensuing period of cultural, ethical, and spiritual renewal. It would be as if the cosmos, while obeying its inherent rules, had been re-tuned to reflect a higher, salvific purpose that calls every human being to participate in its ongoing redemption.
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Do we see this happening in our world?
I also asked AI to include the reversal of death as part of this restoration. This was the response…
If reversing death were part of this divine restoration, humans might witness a gradual yet transformative process that unfolds in several interrelated ways:
Rather than a sudden, inexplicable event, the reversal of death could occur as a natural “rewinding” of decay. Observers might see:
The intervention might be heralded by observable cosmic phenomena that signal the Creator’s presence working within the universe’s established order:
For many, the reversal of death would resonate on a deeply personal level:
Crucially, every observable phenomenon would still align with the universe’s underlying laws:
To those living in this universe, the reversal of death would appear as a majestic reordering of both nature and human consciousness—a process where the boundaries between life and death blur in a lawful, yet awe-inspiring manner. It would be as if the very rhythm of existence were being re-synchronized, inviting every individual to witness and partake in the grand renewal of all things.
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I then asked: What could the humans living in this universe also expect to see if some of the spiritual beings, who were initially put in charge over this universe, actively begin to resist the restoration of this universe by the creator God?
AI’s Response…
In such a scenario, humans might witness a dramatic cosmic conflict unfolding alongside the restoration. Some possible manifestations include:
Humans living in such a universe would not only see the miraculous signs of restoration but also the disruptive, challenging manifestations of the spiritual beings resisting change. This dual spectacle—a blend of awe-inspiring renewal and unsettling cosmic turbulence—would redefine their understanding of life, death, and the eternal struggle between order and chaos, urging them to actively participate in the unfolding cosmic narrative.
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What if the creator God decides not to restore this whole physical universe, but instead focuses his entire restoration mission on humans? What could those humans expect to see?
In a scenario where the creator God focuses solely on restoring humanity rather than the entire physical cosmos, humans might experience a transformation that is deeply personal, social, and spiritual. Here are some aspects of what that could look like:
If the creator God’s restoration mission were focused exclusively on humanity, the observable effects would be less about altering the physical universe on a grand scale and more about igniting a deep, transformative process within each person. This would lead to spiritual awakenings, miraculous personal healings, and a profound shift in social and ethical consciousness—inviting every human to become a catalyst for a renewed, compassionate world, even as the broader cosmos remains untouched by restoration.
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If the restoration mission were focused exclusively on humans, and the spiritual beings originally given stewardship over this universe actively resisted this restoration, how could these humans expect to experience that?
In such a scenario, humans could experience a profound inner and outer conflict—a tug-of-war between the divine healing intended for them and the disruptive interference of the resisting spiritual beings. Some possible manifestations include:
Humans could expect an experience marked by both luminous renewal and the challenge of navigating disruptive, deceptive influences. They would encounter the bright spark of divine restoration within themselves and in their communities, even as the resisting spiritual beings attempt to undermine these changes with internal and external conflict. This cosmic tug-of-war would require deep discernment, collective effort, and unwavering commitment to the transformative power of hope and truth.
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Here is another response to the original scenario from another AI…
This is a fascinating thought experiment! Let’s explore how humans in this universe might experience such a scenario, based on the premises you’ve outlined.
Humans in this fallen universe would likely have emerged in a world already marked by decay and the influence of those powerful spiritual beings who failed in their stewardship. Their existence would be shaped by a tension between the remnants of the original perfection—perhaps glimpsed in the beauty of nature, the complexity of life, or fleeting moments of harmony—and the pervasive reality of disorder, suffering, and evil. Over generations, they might develop myths, philosophies, or religions to make sense of this duality, intuiting that the world was once “meant” to be better, yet struggling to explain why it isn’t.
When the creator God enters the universe to initiate restoration, humans would likely experience this event as something extraordinary yet constrained by the universe’s original laws. Since God doesn’t violate those laws, the rescue wouldn’t appear as an abrupt, miraculous reset—like the sudden disappearance of all evil or a rewriting of physics. Instead, it would unfold as a process, one that integrates seamlessly with the natural order humans already know.
Imagine God entering the universe in a form that aligns with its rules—perhaps as a being subject to the same physical limits as humans, like birth, growth, and vulnerability. This could manifest as a figure who seems utterly ordinary yet carries an undeniable presence or authority that resonates with something deep in human consciousness. Humans might witness this figure teaching, healing, or confronting the forces of decay in ways that push the boundaries of what they thought possible—but never outright break them. For example, a healing might occur through touch or words, leveraging the body’s own mechanisms in an accelerated way, rather than through some supernatural snap of the fingers.
The restoration process itself could feel gradual and participatory. Humans might notice subtle shifts—communities forming around hope, acts of compassion multiplying, or a growing sense that the tide of decay is being resisted. Yet, because the original laws remain intact, evil and suffering wouldn’t vanish instantly; instead, humans might sense they’re being invited into the rescue effort, tasked with aligning themselves with the creator’s intent. This could spark awe, confusion, or even resistance, as some cling to the familiar fallen state while others embrace the emerging renewal.
Culturally, humans might interpret this through stories or rituals, perceiving the creator’s entry as a pivotal moment—like a king reclaiming a corrupted kingdom, but doing so from within its borders, not from above. They might record it as history unfolding in real time: a leader who dies yet somehow overcomes death without shattering the law of mortality, perhaps by transforming it into a gateway for renewal. The experience would likely feel both intimate and cosmic—personal encounters with this figure rippling out to affect the entire universe.
Over time, humans might look back and see this intervention as the hinge of their existence: a moment when the creator stepped into their reality, not to override it, but to redeem it from within. They’d live in a strange overlap—still surrounded by decay, yet sensing a momentum toward restoration that they can’t fully explain but can choose to join.
Any religion that cannot move beyond “we’re bad, God gets mad” is unworthy of devotion. Imagine a world in which a law was unnecessary. What would have to happen to humanity for that to be possible? We would have to become like God. Judaism will always require a law (and Jews bend over backwards trying to find loopholes to that law). Eastern religions teach you can grow beyond the need of a law, but your individuality will be obliterated in the process. Only Christianity teaches that we can grow beyond the need of a law while still maintaining our identities. How? God becomes like us so that we can become like Him. We become little gods.