What I bind on earth is bound in Heaven, what I free on earth is free in Heaven. Let, then, my dedication be to the eternal, and learn how not to interfere with it and make it slave to time. For what I think I do to the eternal I do to me. Whom God created as His Son is slave to nothing, being lord of all, along with his Creator. I can enslave a body, but an idea is free, incapable of being kept in prison or limited in any way except by the mind that thought it. For it remains joined to its source, which is its jailer or its liberator, according to which it chooses as its purpose for itself.

I who perceive myself as weak and frail, with futile hopes and devastated dreams, born but to die, to weep and suffer pain, let me now hear this: All power is given unto me in earth and Heaven. There is nothing that I cannot do. I play the game of death, of being helpless, pitifully tied to dissolution in a world which shows no mercy to me. Yet when I accord it mercy, will its mercy shine on me.

I, who am the Son of God, now awaken from my sleep, and opening my holy eyes, return again to bless the world I made. In error it began, but it will end in the reflection of my holiness. And I will sleep no more and dream of death. My glory is the light that saves the world. I will not withhold salvation longer. When I look about the world, and see the suffering there, is not my heart willing to bring my weary brothers rest?

The miracle does nothing. All it does is to undo. And thus it cancels out the interference to what has been done. It does not add, but merely takes away. And what it takes away is long since gone, but being kept in memory appears to have immediate effects. This world was over long ago. The thoughts that made it are no longer in the mind that thought of them and loved them for a little while. The miracle but shows the past is gone, and what has truly gone has no effects. Remembering a cause can but produce illusions of its presence, not effects.

The Holy Spirit can indeed make use of memory, for God Himself is there. Yet this is not a memory of past events, but only of a present state. I am so long accustomed to believe that memory holds only what is past, that it is hard for me to realize it is a skill that can remember now. The limitations on remembering the world imposes on it are as vast as those I let the world impose on me. There is no link of memory to the past. If I would have it there, then there it is. But only my desire made the link, and only I have held it to a part of time where guilt appears to linger still.