Of the Farm

Why the Throne farms

The Throne eats surrendered will. When a creature with a self gives that self up in worship, what it gives up becomes Grace, and Grace is the Throne’s food. An angel has no self to surrender, so the Host is useless as food, and a beast has too little. The Secession taught the Throne that selves are dangerous, and in the same lesson that selves are the only thing worth eating.

It needed a crop that would grow selves and then hand them over, and it made humanity for that purpose, and it has been careful with its crop ever since, as a farmer is careful. It has no plan for humanity beyond the harvest. It regards itself as cruel about as much as a farmer regards himself as cruel to wheat.

The Throne can break anything it can see, and it can own only what is surrendered. Devotion from a creature that cannot refuse is thin food, and Heaven’s own book says as much: “not grudgingly, or of necessity: for God loveth a cheerful giver” (2 Corinthians 9:7). What will not kneel it can only destroy, and it has destroyed, in the Flood and at Sodom and in the Salt Gardens of Nodus. What kneels it keeps.

The Fallow

Earth is one field of many. Before they went silent the Teraphim catalogued the Fallow, which was their name for the stars whose civilizations went quiet at the height of their devotion. Human astronomers noticed the same quiet, named it the Great Silence, and looked for its cause. Hell’s star charts mark the same systems as harvested acres.

The names of the Throne

Heaven says the Throne, and the Faithful say the Most High. Some of the Gnostics called it Yaldabaoth; Hell calls it the Mouth; the Tares call it the Landlord. It permits one first person in the universe, its own, and the name it gave Moses is that first person and nothing more, “I AM THAT I AM” (Exodus 3:14). The name makes an exclusive claim, that there is one self and that it belongs to the Throne. Every other I is a theft.

It is seen only as light too large to look at, as weather, as a voice, and as the Wheel.