 We continue today with Chapter 28, The Ark of Safety. God asked for nothing, and his son, like him, need to ask for nothing, for there is no lack in him. An empty space, a little gap, would be a lack, and it is only there that he could want for something he has not. A space where God is not, a gap between the father and the son is not the will of either who have promised to be one. God's promise is a promise to himself, and there is no one who could be untrue to what he wills as part of what he is. The promise that there is no gap between himself and what he is cannot be false. What will can come between what must be one, and in whose wholeness there can be no gap. The beautiful relationship you have with all your brothers is part of you because it is part of God himself. Are you not sick? If you deny yourself your wholeness and your health, the source of help, the call to healing, and the call to heal, your savior waits for healing, and the world waits with him. Nor are you apart from it, for healing will be one or not at all. It is oneness being where the healing is. What could correct for separation but its opposite? There is no middle ground in any aspect of salvation. You accept it holy or accept it not. What is unseparated must be joined, and what is joined cannot separate. Either there is a gap between you and your brother, or you are as one. There is nothing between, no other choice, no allegiance to be split between the two. A split allegiance is but faithlessness to both, and merely sets you spinning round, to grasp uncertainly at any straw that seems to hold some promise of relief. Yet who can build his home upon a straw and count on it as shelter from the wind? The body can be made a home like this because it lacks foundation in the truth. And yet, because it does, it can be seen as not your home, but merely as an aid to help you reach the home where God abides. With this as purpose is the body healed. It is not used to witness to the dream of separation and disease, nor is it idly blamed for what it did not do. It serves to help the healing of God's Son, and for this purpose it cannot be sick. It will not join a purpose, not your own, and you have chosen that it not be sick. All miracles are based upon this choice, and given you the instant it is made. No forms of sickness are immune because the choice cannot be made in terms of form. The choice of sickness seems to be a form, yet it is one, as is its opposite. And you are sick or well, accordingly, but never you alone. This world is but the dream that you can be alone and think without affecting those apart from you. To be alone must mean that you are first apart, and if you are, you cannot but be sick. This seems to prove that you must be apart. Yet all it means is that you tried to keep a promise to be true to faithlessness. Yet faithlessness is sickness. It is like the house set upon straw. It seems to be quite solid and substantial in itself. Yet its stability cannot be judged apart from its foundation. If it rests on straw, there is no need to bar the door and lock the windows and make fast the bolts. The wind will topple it, and rain will come and carry it into oblivion. What is the sense in seeking to be safe in what was made for danger and for fear? Why burden it with further locks and chains and heavy anchors? When its weakness lies not in itself, but in the frailty of the little gap of nothingness where on it stands? What can be safe that rests upon a shadow? Would you build your home upon what will collapse beneath a feather's weight? Your home is built upon your brother's health, upon his happiness, his sinlessness, and everything his father promised him. No secret promise you have made instead has shaken the foundation of his home. The winds will blow upon it, and the rain will beat against it, but with no effect. The world will wash away, and yet this house will stand forever, for its strength lies not within itself alone. It is an arc of safety resting on God's promise that his Son is safe forever in himself. What gap can interpose itself between the safety of this shelter and its source? From here the body can be seen as what it is, and neither less nor more in worth than the extent to which it can be used to liberate God's Son unto his home. And with his holy purpose is it made a home of holiness a little while, because it shares your Father's will with you. From the workbook, Lesson 224, God is my Father, and he loves his Son. My true identity is so secure, so lofty, sinless, glorious, and great, wholly beneficent and free from guilt, that Heaven looks to it to give it light. It lights the world as well. It is the gift my Father gave to me, the one as well I give the world. There is no gift but this that can be either given or received. This is reality, and only this. This is Illusion's end. It is the truth. My name, O Father, still is known to you. I have forgotten it, and do not know where I am going, who I am, or what it is I do. Remind me, Father, now, for I am weary of the world I see. Reveal what you would have me see instead. Amen.