Angels of Humility: A Novel (2 page)

I find this absolutely amazing that the God of the universe would give us a reward that will last for eternity for doing something so simple! This is within everyone’s reach.

My prayer for you is that you will live in such a way that eternity will become a priority over this visible, temporal realm and that when you stand before the Lord you will truly share in His joy over your life.

Jackie Macgirvin

A death was in progress in Room 120 of Bradbury Manor, the town’s nursing home. It is a wonderful, joyous death—a spiritual celebration in full swing. Two towering, ancient angels, clothed in dazzling garments of light, were singing, marching, and dancing around the figure of a frail, elderly lady, fetal and unconscious under a pink chenille bedspread. Sarah was unaware of the celestial celebration and the heavenly orders that would transition her into God’s paradise—the eternal dwelling place for which she was created.

The angels paused from their celebration. “A stroke,” whispered Malta, the worshiping angel smiling tenderly, as he gazed at Sarah’s face. “The Lord is eagerly waiting, and I can hardly stand it myself.”

“At sunrise this frail little intercessor, who was so dynamic a witness on earth, is finally going to rest in the Lord’s arms,” said Joel, the warrior angel, his two-edged sword by his side, his eyes ever vigilant.

It was a little before 5
a.m.
, and the angels glowed with anticipation of the swallowing up of her temporal, earthly life into an eternity of love and peace.

“Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of His saints,”
²
shouted Joel. They resumed their marching, dancing, and praising around the bed. Sarah was wholly protected even in her vulnerable state.

Huddled together in the corner of the room, growling, were several yellow-eyed spirits. The largest one, Death, was busy formulating a final plan of attack with the low-ranking imps under his command. He despised them all. The feeling was mutual.

Just as they were ready to strike, Malta blew his shofar and the heavens opened. The atmosphere was energized with even more glory. Breathtaking sounds of celestial music wafted into the room, along with heavenly colors and fragrances. Angels carrying instruments surrounded Sarah’s bed. This heavenly choir followed Malta’s worship, and their joyful praise not only filled the room, but flowed back to the throne of grace like a tidal wave of pure joy.

“Great, more angels—that’s just what we need,” whined Discouragement.

“Make them stop singing,” wailed Depression. “I can’t take any more worship. I think I’m going to be sick!”

“Enough complaining!” barked Death. “We’ve got to attack now. When I give the word, charge. Maybe one of you can get to her pathetic, wrinkled body. She’s barely holding to life by a thread.”

“We couldn’t even get to her when there were just two of them—I’m not going anywhere near that bed!” yelped Infirmity, ducking quickly to avoid a blow from Death.

Fear of Man emphatically agreed. “Do you see those angels walking back and forth with the swords? Do you see the impenetrable wall of protection and glory around her? You can charge if you want, but I’m staying right here!”

“We’ve tried unsuccessfully to kill her for 16 months. Let’s face it. We can’t even steal one second from the life span appointed to her,” said Intimidation.

Knowing it would indeed be impossible to penetrate the angelic worship, Death turned on these minion imps in anger.

“We had Sarah her whole life. How did you manage to lose her in the last year and a half?” he screamed. “Do you realize what she set in motion? This one wretched little old lady has started an avalanche of sal-sal-salvations around the world. You’re all a bunch of incompetent idiots, and we’ll be tortured for failing this mission!” The imps retaliated by hissing, cursing, scratching, and blaming each other for their failure.

Joel gazed intently at them with eyes like blazing fire. He unsheathed his flaming two-edged sword, and on his next pass by that side of the room, he slashed through the gnarled demonic mass. They vaporized into a harmless puff of yellow sulfurous smoke. Joel grinned as he resheathed his sword, “I love my job.”

With the sun slightly below the horizon, the angels gathered around the bed in hushed excitement. Joel and Malta, always on the alert, bent over Sarah.

“Soooo—close,” whispered Malta, stroking Sarah’s forehead and smiling at Joel. They’d been her guardians for 16 months. Unbelievably, they felt even more love for Sarah welling inside them than before. “Get ready,” said Joel, gazing into the opened Heaven, awaiting the final word. Malta lay his hand on Sarah’s chest to feel her breathing, a little shallower each time.

“NOW!” shouted Joel, having received orders from the fiery throne. As her last breath escaped her frail, fleshly shell, the sun’s first rays peeked over the horizon. Surges of light permeated the room as the heavenly corridor of glory touched earth. Sarah’s spirit emerged into Malta’s waiting arms. Glancing back at the bed, she caught a glimpse of her aged face, ashen-colored and wrinkled. She was whisked through the portal toward an unseen realm of eternity by a jubilant Malta, with Joel flying ahead. Escorted by her two triumphant angels, she was moving faster than the speed of light.

Liquid warmth enveloped Sarah. For the first time ever, she felt the complete absence of pain and the presence of total peace. She was leaving
behind all sin and its damning results, with which she had lived since birth. Shielded by her two ecstatic angels, she moved rapidly toward a brilliant light in the remote distance.

Sixteen months earlier:

Bradbury was a small, rural Missouri community of 8,000. Some still farmed their family’s ground. Others commuted to Mt. Pielor 15 miles away, to work in the factories or stores that had sprung up there. These stores provided much needed jobs and less expensive goods and services, but also drew business away from Bradbury’s town square.

Sarah was a widow who had lived her whole life in Bradbury. It had only been six months since cancer had stolen her beloved George away from her. The ache was no less intense; it still consumed her every waking minute and intruded on her dreams as well. Over the last two years of his declining health, she had gone from introvert to recluse, sitting by his bed, caring for him each day.

In the beginning stages of the disease, he was still talkative, but as he deteriorated, she spent hours just sitting beside him in silence. To pass the time she read books on raising orchids and taught herself to crochet. Now, six multicolored afghans were folded in Sarah’s hall closet waiting to be donated to a good cause—the Elk’s Club Raffle or maybe the High School’s yearly fundraiser.

Sarah was shy and had many insecurities. Unable to have children, she had spent her life as a wife, doting on George. Her only contact with the outside world toward the end was the visiting nurses and Dr. Newbury. After George’s death Sarah was totally alone, except for the demonic spirits who had flooded in to convince her that her life no longer had purpose. Agoraphobia kept her housebound except for necessary trips to the grocery store. At night, before she fell asleep, was the worst time of her whole dreadful day. The spirits clamored around, tormenting her, planting thoughts in her mind with their sticky voices:

“George is dead. You’ll never see him again,” shrieked Discouragement. “He’s gone forever.”

“No one else loves you,” whispered Lying.

“You’ve got nothing to live for, no kids—no grandkids,” growled Death.

When she managed to sleep, she slept fitfully. She woke frequently. Sarah eventually became afraid of sleep because she was besieged by terrifying dreams about George’s death involving dismemberment and other gruesome images.

One night Suicide arrived at bedtime. “Since you idiots can’t seem to carry out your orders to do away with one pathetic, elderly lady, I’ve been sent to take over. For some reason this is an urgent, priority assignment.”

He slithered into Sarah’s bedroom and whispered, “What a loser, you couldn’t have kids. You’ve given your whole life to being a wife; now you’re not. You’ve done what you were put here to do. Your purpose in life is over. You’re just taking up space in your old age.”

What’s left for me?
wondered Sarah.
It’s all downhill from here
.

“Have you considered just ending your miserable, pathetic existence? The afterlife has got to be better than the present—the horrid grieving and the continual pity-party that consumes you.”

When she finally dozed off from total exhaustion at 4:00
a.m.
, Suicide lay coiled around her, whispering wicked thoughts. She was barraged by scenes of taking her own life—using a razor blade, crashing her car, jumping off a bridge, overdosing on pills, even shooting herself. She awoke screaming at 4:15 and refused to go back to sleep.

Sarah was helpless as she felt her life spiral downward. Full-blown depression and exhaustion consumed her. Now she was too scared to leave the house even to grocery shop. There was no food, but it didn’t matter; she had no appetite. Food no longer tasted good, and she began to drop weight from her already small frame.

“It’s just a matter of weeks before she succumbs to me,” said Depression, smiling. “She’s lost her will to live.”

“She should have been dead months ago,” interrupted Suicide. “I’ll get her before you do. She’s highly vulnerable now. Her grief and exhaustion make her susceptible to taking her own life. I’m going to rub her nose in it that she never had kids.” He sneered at Depression as he slithered next to Sarah and wrapped his scaly constricting body around hers.

“Well, one of us needs to take her out quickly,” whispered Death. “I’ve heard rumors from the enemy’s kingdom that she has a great destiny.”

“At her age?” sniped Discouragement. “She’s 71 years old and still as lost as a goose in a cloudburst. She’s spent her whole life barely thinking about God. She’s been ours all her pathetic life.” His black lips curled into a smirk. “And she will be ours in death—for all eternity.”

When Suicide replied, “The Godhead has worked miraculously through stranger people than her,” a simultaneous chill penetrated the demonic horde.