A Chrissten meets the True God.

"Oh Lord, why have you allowed this evil to persist? Why do you allow these monsters to roam your lands, kill your servants, and defile your name?"

"Were you not one of these monsters before you became my servant? Did you not roam my lands like a shadow? Did you not kill with your eyes and thoughts? Did you not defile my name when things didn't go your way? Even now, when you are my servant, do you not still act like the monster I saved from being?"

"Lord....You knew my heart yearned for you. Even though I was ignorant of the feeling. You revealed the truth, and I believed. These people....They see the truth yet refuse to believe it. They burn and plunder, and all you do is watch."

"I do much more than watch. I see all. I made all. I made those people you call monsters with the same care. The same heart. The same goal. The same intention. I took thought into every detail, every aspect, and with that, I know how their story ends, I know how they'll die, how they'll live. How they'll reject me, how they'll accept me. Their story ends when I say it ends. You must be patient and see that nothing they do surprises me. Their hearts are hardened like stone, yet even the strongest of rock can be eroded away with water given enough time. That is your role. To erode their hearts. You will not see when the dam breaks, but you will know that it has broken. You will not be the reason the dam breaks, but you will chip at it, form a crack or two, and after enough cracks and chips. I will flood into their hearts. I will make their minds and bodies my temples. However, it is too early. Their story needs more time. Like how I took my time with you and your story."

"So you're wanting them to continue with their chaos and death? For what purpose? What pleasure do you get from this?"

"I don't want them to continue rebelling, but I know that for future generations, the stories of life-long rebels returning to me will lead to more dams breaking than any prophet could ever cause. The stories of these so-called monsters will inspire future generations to fight the evils of their time. To show them the same grace, the same mercy as I have shown you, to them, and to those who have yet to be born. I am demonstrating the depths of my love for my creation. That is the story after all."

"The story? The story you have been writing in the heavens is you demonstrating your love for creation? For what reason?"

"Because creation is a reflection of me, of my mind, personality, it's a self-reflection of sorts. And is that not what stories are? A reflection of the one who writes it? A cautionary tale is nothing more than a writer who experienced or witnessed someone experience trauma; they are preventing future generations from experiencing themselves. Tales of men fighting monsters are writers making allegory, or revealing a victory they had achieved. Scribes writing history do so to connect the present to the past so that people know where they came from, why they exist, and how to use the past as a template for future interactions. The story of my creation is to reflect my love for creating. To demonstrate the strength of the light despite being surrounded by darkness. To show that love knows no bounds. The monsters I created are tools to fulfill this role. Sickness is used to put people in a position where they are entirely dependent on love of others, because it reflects how your life is entirely dependent on my love. The destruction of cities is a reflection of the destruction I inflict on people's hearts as they go from rebels to servants."

"So all this death, solely so that you show the world you're in control? That you decide who lives, who dies? That you are the one people should focus on?"

"You're getting closer."

"So there is no need to worry about these monsters winning because even if they do. There's a reason. It's not by chance? Then, if that's the case, does my will truly exist?"

"If my will exists, then yours exists as well. It is what made you my servant, is it not? Is it not because of your will that you're talking to me? Is it not because of your will that you are crying out to me rather than doing anything else?"

"But my will was forced to cry out because my body doesn't have the strength to fight. My will chose you because the truth is more important than anything."

"A choice you still made. Your will seeks truth, not lies. It seeks reality rather than fantasy. I did not force you to choose me. I never have and never will. However, since you give up your will, yours is mine. A choice you didn't have to make. I gave you a gift, and you gave it back, knowing that I knew it better than you did. You came to that conclusion from your will."

"I only made that conclusion because of what I knew about you. You've made claims. Claims that you proved to be true, even when I failed you. I had no choice but to praise you and give back what you gave me."

"You always have a choice. Look at the people destroying the city. I gave them the same gift and look at what they're doing with it. Are they here talking to me? No, they're killing and plundering because I'm allowing them to. They use their gift for temporary evil, not knowing that such evil will cost them later on. However, they still have the choice to walk away. They just need to know that they can. That is where you come in. You will chip at them and move on. That is your job, your story."