But you are god, and you would find when it came to the point that neither of these alternatives was open to you. This is the whole point of the story of Noah, when God is supposed to have turned a hosepipe on mankind, and only let one family escape. At the end of the story, he promises never to do it again, and that includes a promise never to destroy. The very fact that you had started one creation signifies some very compelling reason for taking so much trouble; and if the first creation failed, this compelling reason would make you want to start all over again. But suppose you did, and created man a second time, how would you explain to your second creation that you had abandoned or obliterated the first? It would be a little difficult, because when you did, you would prevent for ever the men of your second creation having an utter trust in you. The whole point about God, from man's point of view, is that man must be able to trust him completely, whether he does so or not. If a man of your second creation knew that you had abandoned or obliterated the first, he would always fear that you might do the same to him - and with good reason. “Very well then”, you retort, “I wouldn't tell them”. But there would still be no possibility of trust; only a seeming trust, based on your dishonesty or deception. In a different context Shakespeare expressed the same lack of candour as follows:-
“But wherefore says she not she is unjust,
And wherefore say I not that I am old,
Oh! love's best habit is a seeming trust,
And age in love, loves not to have years told.
Therefore I lie with her, and she with me,
That in our faults, by lies we flattered be.”
Without complete candour on God's part, the Church would not be God's bride, but his strumpet.