Revelations and Endings: Episode 4

Lucretia, Queen of the Water Nymphs, sat in the reflection chamber of her underwater chateau. Serenity and tranquility seeped into her mind as she pondered the state of the world, the difficulties in hiding the fantastic from the mundane, and how much she loved the movies of humans. At that moment of sheer bliss, one of her attendants rushed in.

"My lady, someone has created a Water Nymph." He panted - clearly having run from his post to give her this strange news.

"What exactly do you mean when you say that someone 'made' a Water Nymph?" Lucretia knew magic - knew the groups who could use use it, how they used it, and why. She made it her business to know.  This nymph was one of her magic analysts - trained to read data coming from magical probes placed all over the world.

"Well, if you'll remember, my lady, you assigned me several years ago to watch that mysterious ivory tower and amidst the constant magic readings coming in from that tower, this was the very first piece of data I was successfully able to interpret. Several minutes ago someone working somewhere inside that tower created a Water Nymph through magic. I'm not sure how - or what kind of magic they employed even. But that's what they did." This Ivory Tower, of which Lucretia admittedly knew very little, had nagged at the back of her mind for a long time. The power surrounding and flowing out of it was unreadable even to her specialized analysts. No other magical place or group could claim that status. Who - or what - hides behind those thick walls, she wondered. She had previously resolved that she would simply watch them until she had something to go on. Now, after years of watching, her only piece of evidence forced a response.

"I'm going there myself," she stated bluntly, and she evaporated out of the room. Teletravel wasn't typically a power of Water Nymphs, but Lucretia had spent considerable time studying magic. It'll take everything I've learned before to glean anything about the Tower, she thought, trying to prepare herself for imminent arrival. The first thing Lucretia learned about the Ivory Tower, as her essence slammed aginst a brick wall of magic, was that the entire Tower was covered in an anti-teletravel spell. A really strong one if it repelled me. She found herself standing outside the Tower. She looked around, trying to probe her surroundings. She next noticed that the entire Tower existed on Borrowed Space. Borrowed Space magic - powerful and dangerous stuff designed by a mysterious sect of mystics known only as Whim - allowed magical stuff to "borrow" space from the real world so that no one could find it, realize it was being used, or miss it. However, the danger was that it created a "double" space, and if at any time the spell became unsustainable and collapsed, the double smashed into a single and the mix was disastrous and irreversible. These are no ordinary spellcasters she thought as she continued searching for a door. She found it - open - with a woman in golden robes standing there and smiling at her.

"Lady Lucretia, Queen of the Water Nymphs, welcome to the Ivory Tower. We've been hoping you'd come to visit soon.'

Reality Setting In

Pain, like slivers in the foot of a child

Reminds me of where we’ve come to.

Sure they ache and hurt and I cry,

But it happened during something

That should have been fun.

Ice, like daggers dangling from the roof

Reflects the light of memories dancing

All the times we’ve had play in the glass

But I realize they are all gone – over – now

And won’t come back.

Sorry, like an over-worn slipper or sock

Sticks in my parched, ineffective throat

The gap between us an insufferable chasm

But maybe saying it will help the pain

Or at least soothe my soul.

Goodbye, I guess, is all that’s left to do

Glimmering with thanks for fun and all

Sinking with the break that brought us here

But maybe goodbye is not a permanent thing

Maybe tomorrow will come.

Revelations and Endings: Episode 3

Iseta loathed kitchen duty. All responsibilities in the Tower shifted weekly between the various inhabitants, and Iseta routinely dreaded the week every cycle that she would supervise the kitchen. The kitchen, enchanted to the highest degree possible, should have held no terror since supervision was a minimal occupation at best. However, under Iseta's watch, water had burned to crisp, cupcakes had developed malicious will and revolted, carrots had held her hostage, and once - inexplicably - an indifferent almond flan had spilled maple syrup on the floor, trapping Iseta in place, and had spent the day mocking her and shattering her self-esteem. At this point, Iseta knew that her capacity for disaster when forced to cook would never go away. Relax, Iseta, you're just putting water in a pot. What could go wrong?

"Iseta!" rang the ironic call from Dracona's lips that made her spill the water everywhere. Dracona had a reputation for entering raucously, but Iseta couldn't imagine what could possibly drive someone to enter a kitchen so unabashedly.

"Dracona! Why must you always sneak up on people and insist on threatening their mental health by startling them? You know what I'm like in the kitchen - my nerves were already stiffer than a Greco-Roman statue!" As she hissed out the rest of her frustration, Iseta pulled out her ebony wand streaked with radical indigo and cleared the surprise deluge from the floor, and filled the water pot as she had intended to do.

Dracona also had a reputation for stubbornly never admitting fault. "You should have done it with magic in the first place," she retorted, "then you wouldn't have spilled when I came to see you."

"Oh yes, because a wand is MUCH safer than an inanimate pot of water to be holding when surprised. Seriously, any number of calamities can come from a wand - the pot can only spill." And perhaps bash in your skull for being so agitating, Iseta added in her head. "Anyways, what warranted your crisis-level, thought-scattering entrance?"

"While sitting on the lawn, I saw Athelus sneak of discretely. I wanted to know where she went. Something is afoot. Did she tell you where she was going?" Despite the still-agitated retort forming in her mind, Iseta didn't get a chance to answer before a Whimball - Polaris' enchanted form of communication - came and sat between the two. Since neither knew who it was for, they bade it speak simultaneously with glares at each other.

Iseta, please be advised that the tower is in grave danger and I need you to go check the Defenses Room and evaluate our preparedness for battle - should it come to that. Dracona, in case you missed it the first time, the tower is in grave danger. Stop meddling in what others are doing.

"That's it?" Dracona balked. "Athelus runs off on some secret mission, you have to evaluate the Tower's battle status, and what am I supposed to do? Stop meddling. Hmph. there must be some way I can help."

Iseta worked hard not to smirk as she replied. "Sure you can help - watch the kitchen." Iseta tried to make a quick exit but Dracona whipped out her wand and stole the key to the Defense Room from Iseta's pocket. The two ran off, Iseta chasing Dracona and shouting at her, leaving a just-starting-to-boil pot of water on the kitchen stove.

Revelations and Endings: Episode 2

Athelus sat and opened the ledger at the library desk as she had for countless days in a row. Polaris had asked her to maintain the library in her spare time, and she loved the job, but things had been so quiet for so long. A part of her, despite her affinity with healing, craved battle simply for a change of pace. Dracona hadn't even blown anything up in over a month. She knew why, but preferred not to think about it: everyone knew the Tower would have to move again soon. She took a walk through the halls and floors of books, pleased to see that, as always, all was in order. The Tower inhabitants treated the books with deep respect, and that satisfied her immensely. She sat down to write in her journal when a silvery orb of magic appeared in front of her. Whim magic, from Polaris, she thought.

"Speak, orb. What message do you bring?"

Polaris' voice came out of the silver orb and she could barely contain her inappropriate excitement. The Tower now faces it's greatest threat, beyond what we could ever conceive. Be prepared for a meeting soon. She leaped up at the thought, and realized she ought to worry and feel displeased rather than excited. She sat back down, desperately trying to relax, when she felt an odd tugging at her soul, as if someone had summoned her. Perhaps the meeting is already happening, she surmised, and relinquished herself to the tug with closed eyes.

She opened her eyes to an all-white room with nothing in it but a pedestal of whitewood topped by a frosted glass orb. This was the Room of Recording, a room where all the memories of many worlds could be stored and reviewed. The room held all information imaginable, but the room allowed people in by summons only. Such levels of information were dangerous, so only the Room decided who got in, when, and what they would see.

The room's deep voice spoke out: "Athelus, Healer-Warrior, will you see what I have to show you?" She had to choose, in that moment, whether she would put her hand on the frosted orb and see the memories offered her or decline, and lose this moment. She had no reason to fear, but walking up to the orb still felt solemn, somehow auspicious.

The walls of the room swirled with color and scenes began to appear. Athelus saw scenes of old enemies approaching the tower: Maleficent and the Heartless, Sauron and his orcs, and many others.

"The danger now coming will cause far more pain than anything that's ever happened." The voice said.

The colors swirled again and the wall displayed the many friends and members of the Tower. Athelus painfully realized how many were gone. The Tower had fewer inhabitants than ever before, and the pain ran deep.

"How can we hope to win with so few?" she asked the Room.

The colors swirled and displayed a young boy - perhaps a man, but youthful looking. He lay on the grass with a bow in hand, aiming for a rabbit. Athelus felt pained as she saw the the rabbit's den nearby and baby bunnies inside. She suddenly saw the hunter also notice the den. He relinquished his shot, lowered his bow. He tossed a carrot into the den and walked away. Athelus smiled at his generosity, and then saw the mark on his wrist. She knew that insignia: it was the brand of a local guild of assassins.

"Why do you show me this being?" she asked.

"He needs help. If you help him, he can help in return. But you must go find him."

"Where is he?"

The colors swirled faster and faster until Athelus found herself back in the library. She began packing some supplies hurriedly, and paused only when she realized Polaris stood in front of her. "Whatever you're doing, I trust you," he said.

"Thank you," she replied. As she rushed out of the room, Polaris tried to stop her to give her the book she left behind. Polaris knew that even in such a rush Athelus never left books behind. He didn't catch her however, and glanced at the book.

"Curious, indeed." He put the book back on her desk, tracing the word 'Hyozanryu' as he released it.

Revelations and Ends: Episode 1

I keep thinking about how it must be almost over. The Tower has been here for four years, almost, and it never lasts anywhere long. Dark thoughts of leaving, of the end, keep cropping up in my head. A heavy sorrow fills my mind when I think about it, so I try not to. I have loved it here, have been so happy here, and refuse to consider leaving yet. Worse still, every time the Tower moves, some friends are left behind. Some always stay, as is their prerogative, but I cannot bear to leave any of these people who have worked and lived here. It would tear me to pieces. I will not think about it anymore.

Polaris shut his journal, and forcibly shoved it into his desk drawer. He stood up and looked out the window of his study. Dracona and Link were working in the garden, others were playing tag. He knew Athelus was in the library, with the books, and that all the many friends of the Tower were around, living and studying, working and thinking, the body of creativity that the Tower was known for. Others were off, seeing the world and spreading the creativity. He wiped a single tear from his cheek, shook his head, and walked away. The pain, his alone to bear, would find no expression if he could help it. He left his study and headed up the stairs.

Life at the Tower had been quiet, peaceful, and wonderful for a long time. No sense of foreboding haunted the Tower, no concerns, no threats or enemies. He headed to the magic radar out of something like boredom, halfheartedly hoping that danger might come soon.

DANGER! DANGER! UNKNOWN THREAT OF LEVEL 7! DANGER! DANGER!

Convinced that he had misread it, he looked at the screen again. He had indeed read it correctly, however. The radar had never read a threat of level 7 before. Polaris calmly walked over to the transmitter and turned it on. "To all friends of the Ivory Tower. A danger we have never before conceived now threatens this world. Wherever you are. consider this your summons: the Ivory Tower needs your help."

Polaris walked to the window and waited to see who would come.

Creator’s Prerogative – Purpose and Intent Premise

Over several blog posts I have begun discussing this idea of the Creator’s Prerogative: that the inventor/designer/creator of any thing, including God creating us, has the right to place expectations on his/her/its creation. If this argument is biblically the case, then it has some severe weight as to why Christianity and evolution are irrevocably incompatible.

Here again is the Creator’s Prerogative argument:
P1: The Creator has invested everything needed to make their creation
P2: The Creator has a specific purpose and function intended for their creation
P3: The Creator continually provides everything needed for the creation to function according to the Creator's intentions
C: Therefore, the Creator has Creator's Prerogative, the right to expect and require the creation to function according to the purposes and intentions of the Creator, and even to create consequences in the event of failure to do so.

In my last post on this subject I proved that the Bible, from all corners, supports the first premise, the Investment Premise. Next, I need to show that the Bible supports the second statement, which I call the Purpose and Intent Premise.

So, did God have a specific purpose and function that He intended for us when He made us?

The Bible’s immediate answer, as you may know, is yes:
“Then God said, ‘Let Us make man in our own image, according to our likeness.” – Genesis 1:26

God made us in His own image; He intended us to be like Him. Many arguments have been put forward as to what this means, whether it means that God, as religious studies scholars would put it, is anthropomorphic, or whether we were supposed to be spiritual beings or creative or holy, or something else. What exactly in us is like God isn’t specific here, but it IS clear that God had intentions as he created us. Job asks, “Did you [God] not…clothe me with skin and flesh, and knit me together with bones and sinews” (Job 10:11)? If our sinews, muscles, and body systems work a certain way, then it would seem, based on this verse and others like it that God “assembled” us to work that way: He knit us this way on purpose.

The boldest statement made to this end may just come in Proverbs, when the Wiseman writes that “The LORD has made everything for its own purpose, even the wicked for the day of evil” (Proverbs 16:4). What a claim of intention! However, we must remember that God is omniscient, which means He was allowed to plan a lot in greater detail than a more shortsighted creator would be capable of. Finally, Romans 8:28 tells us that those who love God are “called according to His purpose.”

Clearly, if God did create us, then He did indeed have and still has intended functional qualities and purposes for us, thus supporting the Purpose and Intent Premise.

Silence Between

Following is a scene derived from my creative writing exercise that will hopefully make it into my novel:


The morning after he left, when raindrops fell like melodramatic tears from a clichéd grey sky, I decided to take a walk. Water, after all, symbolizes purification, cleansing, and – most importantly – healing. The cool rain sounded like a percussive symphony of whimpers, calling him back, begging his sympathy. It begged my mourning, too, but that would not come for many weeks. The newest batch of spell-flowers were in bloom, a raucous cacophony of fiery red, ponderous blue, mellow purple, and a whole litany of other colors. Each flower would produce a new spell, a new magic, and even in his absence, research would continue.

The raindrops became cymbals to a weary mind, and the horrendous memories came flowing back. A rotted body: alive and well only two hours previous. The potion, insidiously clever and maliciously effective, had killed him at some undetermined time after consumption. He could have drank it a week earlier, or been fed it at birth for all that was certain about its dormancy rate. A team of twenty high-ranking mages had investigated the murder, and no results had come forth. For once, the music that guided everything had stopped, had been silent, and the crushing pain was a solitary one.

The memories slip away as the surrounding gardens awaken. A snake slithers into its warm hole, avoiding the rain curtain soaking the ground. Two animals race up a tree to hide in its branches, away from the cold water’s death-like reach. It’s amazing to realize that every creature instinctively runs from the rain. Like the animals of this garden, the mages are running from the truth that falls on their faces even now; they continue to tell themselves that it must have been an accident, that it must have been a mistake. After all, who would kill him? But they knew the answer to that question. They knew it all too well, like a violin concerto that haunts the soul, there could only be one answer to that question.

Even the fortifications of this castle of endless wonders couldn’t keep that greatest enemy away. Envy causes countless murders every day, why not his? Just because these beautiful flowers, these symbols of sheer brilliance and unbound creativity, were created by the castle inhabitants, are the castle inhabitants necessarily free from guilt? He himself had envied, on more than one occasion, the work of others. Of course, ethics and reason kept him from stealing their work or killing them, but still he envied. Mages may be the world’s solution to catastrophe, but no one here is flawless, just the same.

A pool is forming in the corner, around the place where he fell off the wall, just last season, after deciding that he had gone far too long without being childish. If something comes along – and who knows what force could actually achieve this – and threatens this community of scholar artists, who will save them? Music saves man from insanity, but if music is in danger, who saves it? If the notes stop coming and the strings stretch and snap, will someone play in the cello’s place? Or is the cello doomed to insignificance and the world doomed to silence? If no one attends his funeral, has magic become irrelevant to the world?

The branches above, as if in disagreement, shake, and a deluge falls from their fingers. The rain soaks to the bone, but it feels good. Like something new has been planted that will someday blossom and bloom. The rain deposits life where, only moments ago, there was only blankness. Today will not be the end.

Creator’s Prerogative – The Investment Premise

Last summer, I began a project to show how evolution and Biblical principals were incompatible, focusing on the ethical side of things. My project didn’t get very far, but I did develop an idea called Creator’s Prerogative. (For those who want to know where the argument came from, look to the post titled “Evolution’s Ethical Problem: Creator’s Prerogative” from July 19th, 2010.)

Here is the Creator’s Prerogative argument as a refresher:

P1: The Creator has invested everything needed to make their creation
P2: The Creator has a specific purpose and function intended for their creation
P3: The Creator continually provides everything needed for the creation to function according to the Creator's intentions
C: Therefore, the Creator has Creator's Prerogative, the right to expect and require the creation to function according to the purposes and intentions of the Creator, and even to create consequences in the event of failure to do so.

My purpose, here, is not to disprove evolution – I am not a scientist. My purpose is to show that the tenets of evolution, at a fundamental level, are wholly incompatible with Christian philosophy. In order for this argument to help me, then, I must prove that the Bible supports its premises. Over the next few posts, I intend to do this very thing, premise by premise.

We start with the first premise: the “Investment Premise.” I argue that the Creator (God, in this case) has provided/invested everything needed to make His creations.

Here’s what the Bible has to say about this point: Genesis 1, of course, points it out clearly. God speaks, and the authority and power attached to His command bring the things He names into being. Sounds like investment to me! What about Psalm 148:5, where David says that “He commanded and they were created,” after listing the things of creation. Isaiah tells us in 42:5 that it was God “who created the heavens and stretched them out, Who spread out the earth and its offspring, Who gives breath to its people and spirit to those who walk in it.” God not only made us, but He is the source of our breath and our spirit! Paul claims boldly in Ephesians 3:9 and Colossians 1:16 that God “created all things.” When God selects the chief craftsman for the Tabernacle, we are told in Exodus 35:31 that God “filled him with the Spirit of God in wisdom, in understanding, and in all kinds of craftsmanship.” It seems God has a hand in helping us to do what we do every day, as well. 1 Chronicles 22:12, it is proposed that only because God gave discretion and authority does the king rule. This idea is echoed by Jesus in the Great Commission, that all authority comes from God, and is mentioned again by Paul in Romans 13:1.

The Bible resoundingly states that God invested everything needed to make us, and make our world, and it would seem even our societies and technology. If this is the case, then the Bible indeed supports and points to the Investment Premise.

Objections? Counter-examples? Suggestions?

Spiritually Secure, Intellectually UNimpressed

So I've been reading Sam Harris' Letter to a Christian Nation. I heard that it was a leading book in the New Atheist movement, that Ravi Zacharias had written a response, and that the book was sweeping the nation. So, I bought the book to see what all the fuss as about.

I'm twelve pages from done, and I don't know, honestly what the fuss is about. Richard Dawkins, Daniel Dennet, they're forces to be reckoned with, who have legitimate arguments that need to be dealt with. But Sam Harris has constructed a leaning Tower of Pisa out of toothpicks and mini-marshmallows and is trying to pass it off as the latest Pentagon-designed weaponry against Christian thought.

Of course, no new atheist writing will ever "undermine" Christianity; that would be saying that someone could write a book that would destroy the law of gravity. It's not possible, from my point of view. Christian thought (which is not an oxy-moron, as Harris claims) will always be able to defend itself, assuming it's truth, as I do. Hence, I am spiritually secure at the end of the letter, despite the countless promises by critics(Christian and non-Christian alike) who say that the letter will shake the very foundations of my faith.

Intellectually, though, I'm disappointed with the work. I wanted something deep, something strong, an argument that would take real think power to undo. Sam Harris, if he's as smart as the NAs believe him to be (and I think he is), could easily undermine his own arguments with a little iota of thought. The only daunting part is the sheer number, but careful inspection belies their flimsy, faulty construction. I wanted a challenge, I got a fuzzy lollipop stick (how disappointing).

What I'm wondering, though, is how wrong I am for feeling that way. Is it arrogance that craves the chance to debate NAs? Am I being humble when I can see on every page how his Atheism argument can't hold a candle to my Christianity? The answer to both is yes. If I "love my neighbor as myself," should I want Sam Harris to be a powerful NA? If I care about the fate of his and all immortal souls, should I be disappointed with the flimsy nature o his argument? The answer to these, is no. Balancing intellectual pursuits with spiritual duties is always hard, and I've fallen.

And in that simple realization I'm grateful for the 100 millionth time that God is real, is gracious, and that He loves me.

And So God Taught Them Mercy

The second half of the book of Joshua is little better than a list of cities, regions, and borders, as they were divided amongst the tribes of Israel. To someone as unschooled in Middle East geography as me, these chapters may as well be in the original Hebrew, I cannot even begin to guess the size of the areas the Bible draws out in these areas. Amid all this division of land, though, come 6 verses that fascinate me to no end.

“Then the LORD spoke to Joshua, saying ‘Speak to the sons of Israel, saying, “Designate the cities of refuge, of which I spoke to you through Moses, that the manslayer who kills any person unintentionally, without premeditation, may flee there, and they shall become your refuge from the avenger of blood. He shall flee to one of these cities, and shall stand at the entrance of the gate of the city and state his case in the hearing of the elders of that city; and they shall take him into the city and give him a place, so that he may dwell among them. Now if the avenger of blood pursues him, then they shall not deliver the manslayer into his hand, because he struck his neighbor without premeditation and did not hate him beforehand. He shall dwell in that city until he stands before the congregation for judgment, until the death of the one who is high priest in those days. Then the manslayer shall return to his own city and to his own house, to the city from which he fled.”’” – Joshua 20:1-6

How absolutely fascinating! A system of law that looks at the heart and intent of the wrongdoer and not just the action. How just like a God who saves. Intent is everything here. If the manslayer is proven to be without intent, he is free from punishment under this system. God taught the Israelites mercy by establishing these cities, he taught them the power of forgiveness. God had never supported the “wrong for a wrong” principle, and now He was setting up plans that frustrated such fleshly goals.

Imagine for a moment that we live in ancient times. While hewing wheat in the fields, I accidentally scythe your brother rather than the wheat. The males in your family would hunt me down, and kill me for what I had done. My family would then rise up against yours. Welcome to the classic blood feud. However, what is plain to the reader of Joshua is that the Israelites power, just like humanity’s power before the fall of Babel, lies in unity. By destroying the presence of blood feuds, God retained the unifying strength of His people. By teaching them how to forgive, He kept them from killing each other.

And so God taught them mercy…have we learned the lesson?

Shining One

The sound of her soft voice echoes inside
As the twinkle in her bright eyes brings tears
I think of the light dance in her smooth glide
The shining smile of hers allays my fears.

Illuminate my heart dear princess mine
Cast out the lonely shadows filled with gloom!
Recall the spark of life ensconced in thine
And mine dark hearts laden, a heavy doom.

Missing each freckle will take me some days,
The ephemeral clouds may break by then.
I’ll turn and look as stars shine in my gaze,
And see your golden yellow locks again.

O radiant mistress, o maiden bright
My world seems dim without your light tonight.

Strong or Stubborn?

Today, I have felt the most odd string of emotions. This mornin, at 5 AM, I felt completely content and at peace with the world. By seven, I felt stressed. So far, all was normal. Then, though, at 9 I felt warm-fuzzy. LAter, fatigue set in. Happy returned for a period, then a period of darker sensations settled over me. At dinner I felt content, and the for no reason unbridled fustration rose in me. As I looked at my friends list on facebook, I was unwarrantedly overcome with tears. I have felt every emotion today.

Every emotion, that it, except one. My mind refuses to feel lonely. Loneliness is right there, poking and pordding me, reminding me that she isn't on the other end of the phone if I pick it up, that she won't answer the text if I send it. We're e-mailing back and forht, but her voice isn't there. Loneliness so desperately wants inside my head for the next week.

So, my mind is occupying itself with other emotions. They make no sense at times, and I've laughed at the upheaval of every single one, but it's a sobering thing to figure out why I'm doing this.

I care about her a lot. A lot more than I've realized before.

Evolution's Ethical Problem: Creator's Prerogative

Hey All,

So, I'm working on an argument for why Evolution and Christianity cannot meld from an ethical perspective. Emphasis on WORKING. This post is the first of probably a lot to reach a complete argument, but I decided to throw my thoughts out there, and start getting feedback. After all, that's how philosophical arguments get refined. So, here we go:


A man goes out and buys gears, pulleys, a battery, a smoth flat disc, some black paint, a chain, some sheet metal, and two thin strips of iron, one slightly longer than the other, but both short. He begins constructing what he hopes will accurately keep measure of the passage of the day and marcate the different sections of a day by numerical distinction. After weeks of effort, he creates his prototype pocketwatch. He puts the battery in, and it doesn't work as he wanted it to. His first thought is to try another battery. When that doesn't work, he begins refining the gears and pulleys to try and fix the problem, until eventually the watch works. He will now expect the watch to perform its function as long as he supplies battery power. If it doesn't, he will consider it broken and will either fix it or discard it, whichever he chooses.

Here's my argument based on the above thought experiment:

P1: The Watchmaker has invested everything needed to create the pocketwatch
P2: The Watchmaker has a specific purpose and function in mind as he creates this watch
P3: Once it is successfully created, he continues to provide everything the watch needs to function properly
C: The Watchmaker has the right to expect the watch to function properly without exception

I would like to call this conclusion the Creator's Prerogative, the sole right of any inventor, maker, or creator to put expectations, purposes, and even requirements into the existences of their creations. Generalized, the principle looks more like this:

P1: The Creator has invested everything needed to make their creation
P2: The Creator has a specific purpose and function intended for their creation
P3: The Creator continually provides everything needed for the creation to function according to the Creator's intentions
C: Therefore, the Creator has Creator's Prerogative, the right to expect and require the creation to function according to the purposes and intentions of the Creator, and even to create consequences in the event of failure to do so.

Ok, that's what I have so far. Major roadblock already: this argument works flawlessly for any inanimate or animate thing loacking a will of its own. That means it doesn't work for things with a will of their own, such as humans, so I'm still working on that.

Barring that roadblock, what issues do you have with this argument? Where is it weak? What do you like about it so far?

Verbs of God

Dancing in every corner
of my unbridled mind,
Rejoicing resounds from every
crevice of the revelrous parade.

You've freed me, saved me,
held me, loved me, made me
one of Your very own.

Joy abounds like a flowing
brook babbling through my rocky mind.
Peace descends and covers each
department like a tranquil fog.

You've lifted me, carried me,
whitewashed me, embraced me, knitted me
together to be who I am today.

Past events have all been
erased from the annals of memory.
Healing flows through every
limb of my troubled mind.

You've befriended me, amended me,
confounded me, forgiven me, protected me
from my anguish here on earth.

Thank you.

Sound Advice

Walked away from the door today,
Went and sat at my desk.
Was the first time in weeks I looked away,
Wanted to clear my head and get some rest.

For weeks I had sat and I had stared
Frustrated and filled with emotional strife.
Fomenting rebellion as much as I dared,
Foisting my impatience in the Lord of Life.

"Come to me, spend time with me,"
Called my Father God each hour.
"Cling to my teachings and be free,
Cast your cares on me, stop giving them power."

So I sat at my desk and began to pray,
Seeking my Lord and forgetting the door.
Somewhere during the chat I heard Him say,
"She's a girl worth waiting for."

A Weary Plea

Pensive
I wander through my mind
Days have passed wihout time for this repast.

Weary of effort.
Rest seems so far off and distant.
Stop this endless cavalcade of doing.

Draw me into Your arms.
Write rest on my drooping eyelids
Tell me to take a break.

I know You want me to do Your will
Yet You're not trying to kill me
Everything is draining me.

Eagles' wings
Grant me rest and eagles' wings
And that shall be enough.

Pensive
Sing over my heart, Father God,
Grant me rest and eagles' wings.

Dead House Redemption

"Don't go there," my mother warned,
pointing to the dark manor down the
street. The building stood there, a
poignant reminder to avoid darkness.
Kids threw rocks, but I never liked that;
seemed so hurtful to the already-broken
house full of memories.

"Don't go there," my friend warned when
the house became a tourist attraction. "The
cobwebs are plastic and the story is
fabricated." He had gone, paid twenty dollars
for the tour. "The tour guide is shady, he
seems nice enough, but there is...
something
odd about him."

"Don't go in there," the tour guide warned,
"without a candle. The spirits inside are very
strong." I take the candle, thinking to myself:
I can probably handle them without one.
Sure enough, the cobwebs were real, the creaky
boards truly rotten. The poor house was falling
apart, and the tour guide who owned it would
do nothing to fix it at all.

Don 't go there, I remembered, as the pointless
tour came to an end. I headed towards the door,
and the house began to sigh. It begged me not to go,
not to leave it unchanged. "I love you," the door
squeaked, and my heart broke. As I stood there,
I whispered three simple words: "You are mine."

As the weeks went on after that moment of truth,
I repaired the house, covering the broken parts
with blood, tearing down and rebuilding bad struc-
tures. And as the house was renewed the old tour
guide stood on the sidewalk crying out to all:
"Don't go there."

Psalm of Transparency

Gazing at the mirror:
I finally see myself clearly...
The full wretchedness of my sin
Oozes out of the mirror and reaches for me.
In horror I drop to my knees,
In fear I cry out, seeking solace.
Broken I turn, No longer able to handle the gaze.
Then - behind me -
Like fireburst, light busting forth: You're there.
You hold me, and the broken tears flow from
Eyes that cannot bear to look.
You cry too;
I fearfully think you find me wretched,
That You'll turn away disgusted.
But Your tears turn to blood
And this mortal pus lets me go:
It's gone!
Hold me tighter! Cover me in love-blood!
The mirror is shattered -
I am left with "only" You.