Angel’s Journal, Entry Six: “Who Could Believe This?!!”

Journal Entry:

I still can scarcely believe these days myself, but I have to get something down about all this. It all began so bleakly…

The vulgarity… the violence… the contempt… I cannot even write down my thoughts or feelings about what happened between The Master’s betrayal by Judas, and His final breath on the Cross. Perhaps later, but not now, not yet.

And then… He died.

He really, totally, died. Just like most every other man born of woman. He died. The groan throughout heaven was nearly palpable. The higher ups looked grave, but unsurprised. Even *I* realized that He had spoken clearly that He was going to die, but still… I mean… how could this be? So often, He spoke “figuratively”. I guess I had hoped this was one of those kinds of thing. But it wasn’t. He died.

His Body was taken down, laid in a borrowed tomb, and he was hurriedly washed and anointed, as even His friends had to get home before the sun fully set.

But then… then… the strangest thing(s) happened! (For one thing, “time” got really muddled between the celestial and the material.) Because He remained fully Him, and yet His natures… Well, I don’t really understand HOW this all happened, but I’ll just note down what DID happen!

Anyway, He was washed, anointed, wrapped, and left in that tomb. The Temple officials (not caring about their OWN people getting home for the Passover night), posted guards and rolled this megalith in front of the entrance so that no one could get to Him. (Ha! Little did THEY know. But I get ahead of myself…)

Anyway, no sooner had the tomb been sealed, than a little messenger sprite pops in front of me with a sealed scroll with gilt edges. I open it, and find I am summoned to the commissioning desk… I have an assignment. I shook my head… “REALLY?” I thought… “in the midst of all THIS, now it’s ‘business as usual’, and I have an assignment?” But it was better than doing nothing, I figured, so I zipped to the desk to serve as I was called.

Never did I imagine!

Twelve of us had been summoned, and the task director was just beaming all over as he congratulated us, and said if he were capable of envy he would envy us. He seemed to take delight in our puzzled expressions, and said very little as reverently he handed each of us various garments of exquisite crafting. Sandals, undergarments, finest linen tunic, sash… it wasn’t until he got to the final garments, a magnificent Robe and covering cloak that we realized Whose these were. This clothing was woven of spirit and truth, had indefinable texture as fine as spidersilk, and shone with colors no human eye has ever seen.

These… were The Master’s robes… His Kingly Robes… His Priestly Robes. These were the garments He would wear upon His return to Earth at the end of man time… and they were here… HERE… in OUR HANDS!

Our assignment was simple. We were to proceed, the dozen of us, to and into the tomb, and await The Master’s need for His clothing.

We were stunned… but delighted.

With the speed of thought, we entered the Tomb. It was large enough, with a stone niche in which The Master’s body, wound with His gravesclothes, lay. We arrived, each bearing our items, and waited.

It was not but moments before we… er… “felt”, more than “heard”, the melodious voice of The Father, His Majesty, intone with the greatest love…

“Awaken now, My Son. Well, well done, My good and faithful Beloved. Come, rise now, as We complete Our tasks!”

The Master arose, in the fullness of His Glorious Body, as His flesh remained within the winding sheet. Confused though we were, we knelt and sang in joy and wonder at His return. Our presence had already brought light into the space, but His arising prompted a golden glowing brilliance never seen since the Shekinah.

Always knowing the thoughts of those about Him, He smiled as He donned each garment in order, answering the confusions in myself.

I have already said, the whole “time” thing got a bit muddled in this space between sundown Friday and sunrise of Sunday (as men name these days).

“You wonder why My flesh remains here for the moment… Well, I have said My body must remain in the earth for these three days, as Jonah was in the whale. I will not appear to any on earth, until that flesh arises and the stone is rolled away. But, in this meantime, I have things to accomplish… and a dinner date at home this night with a thief.” And He smiled at us, touched us all, and allowed us to serve Him as we fitted His garments to Him.

“You may remain with Me for this time, if you wish…” He said.

We wished.

Together, He and we twelve singing praises to Him, His Majesty, and The Radiance… sped towards heaven. We thought He would return to His Throne first and foremost, to see The Father. But we were wrong…

Instead, He headed first to the Temple Not Made With Hands… the one foreshadowed and copied by the Tabernacle and Temple of Jerusalem. We stood, six to a side, as He made the Once For All Offering of His own Life, His Own Blood, in total and utter satisfaction of all debt owed by the sin of Creation. It was amazing.

Having thus completed Reconciliation, He THEN went to The Father’s Throne, to bring “closure” to His offering. They only spoke a few moments, as His Majesty raised His hands and blessed both The Master and all of Creation, in the completion of this Sacrifice of and by The Lamb of God. They embraced, The Master bowed (as did we all), and strode from the Great Hall.

Each of us were very silent, wondering how long we could tag along before being dismissed, as we fanned out from Him something like an Honor Guard. All around us cheered and bowed, as The Master passed… and He seemed vibrant with joy and celebration as He touched as many as reached out to Him.

We got to the boundary of paradise, the threshold between our dimension and others, as He said, “I have one more task to complete for the moment. Would you care to come along?” We all eagerly assented. “Very well,” He continued. “You’re about to go somewhere you have never been, and may well never go again. We depart.”

Following Him, we were shocked to find ourselves at… the Gates of Hell. More precisely, we were at the veil of the underworld, the land of shades of those passed on. Great symbolic chains, locks, bars, and barriers kept the living, the ever living, and the dead apart and separated. With no more than a mighty sweep of His arm, and a cry of, “People of faith! Walk free into the Light! Welcome to My Kingdom, ye Saints!”… all the obstructions vanished, and those whose hopes had ever been in the Lord, were now able to come to Him, touch Him, kiss Him, hug Him.

Being Who, and what, and how, He is… He could (and did) greet and embrace them each by name. Together, we all made our way home to Paradise.

When we had returned, all tasks done, The Master passed through His quarters and emerged dressed once again in His typical simple style.

He called ten of us to be privileged to care for His things for a time, and serve at a banquet being held for Him, the Father, the Radiance, the returning saints, and one recently deceased thief. Two of us (myself, disappointedly) were not among the chosen. I tried not to show my disappointment… but you can’t “hide thoughts” around Him.

“Don’t be dejected,” He said as He smiled. “I have a different task for you and Heracles, if you don’t mind.” (We smiled broadly, nodding our assent.) “I would like you to return to My Tomb, and stand vigil over My Body. In ‘our time’ here, it will only be a few moments from now. But in ‘man time’ it will be about 36 hours, and I will return. You will then break open the Tomb as I exit, and remain behind to explain what has happened. Will you deliver these messages for Me?”

We could scarcely contain our glee!

And so it came to pass. On the Third Day, Heracles and I participated in a great earthquake and rolled away the stone, watched The Master rise in His Resurrected Body of Flesh, saw Him disappear, folded His graveclothes, and awaited the women who came to anoint His corpse properly.

Should I live forever (which of course, I shall… but still…)… Should I live forever, I shall NEVER forget the privilege…

I got to sit atop a great heavy sealing stone and say to some of The Master’s very Best Friends…

“Why do you seek the Living among the Dead? He is Risen, just as He said He would…”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Who could ever believe such a thing?

No… wait… apparently THAT is now a very important question. One of those “choice” things I spoke of before…

Oh well. Enough for now. A bit more, later. Allelujah! He is Risen!

Journal Entry by — Makarion Nous, Angel 3rd Class, General Duties

P.S. I know this entry is a little longer than normal… But… well… the day was a bit unusual, too! MN

Angel’s Journal, Entry Three: “Flurries of Excitement”

Journal Entry:

Things are moving so quickly now around The Master that it’s hard to keep up or sense the direction of events. I noted my own optimism at the greetings given when He entered Jerusalem, and how heart-warming it was to see Him given the acclaim He truly deserves.

On the other hand, it seems always “the other sandal to drop” (as humans say), when some religious critics complained about the furor, and bid The Master to quiet the tumult and praise. (These whiners plot together behind their closed doors, inspired, fueled and fanned by the whisperings of the Dark Ones appealing to their fear and ambition, counseling them to kill this “dangerous radical” (Pfft! As… if…) lest The Master rouse the people and draw down the ire of the Romans to disturb their comfortable power base.)

But The Master would not be dissuaded from letting events unfold as they would. He created a mad flurry of excited activity here when He said. “I tell you, if these become silent, the stones will cry out!” O my goodness! What a scramble up here, as all the regional and geological caretaking angels for that region instantly drew forth references on “speech” and “vocal biology and technology”, and flashed off to find the guardian angel who cared for the prophet Balaam, and the one who looked after his mount, and the angel who confronted them on the road. I had to shake my head at all the instant research going on for “Atypical Vocal Manifestations in Revelation of God’s Nature or Will”, all in the “twinkling of an eye” (as humans say), as we all revert to “celestial time” for purely internal matters (like research).

It all turned out to be a false alarm, as the crowds and disciples did NOT cease to praise Him, and He extended no invitation or permission for Creation Itself to declare the Truth it knows. A bit of a letdown, I must admit… that is a moment we all look forward to with GREAT anticipation. But still, I know He knows what He’s doing…

The OTHER great flurry of excitement was when He rode straight up to the Temple, climbed the great stairs there with throng in tow, and opened all the cages and pens of the “blemishless” sacrificial animals (such chaos that was!) and overturned the tables and accounts of all the animal sellers and the money changers. You’ve never heard such shouting, bleating, squealing, all combined with merchants trying to stifle their urge to curse (they were, after all, in the courtyard of the Temple), and shouting indignantly.

We angels had seen Him do this before, of course, three “years” ago when The Master began what we called “His Wanderings” after coming up out of the Water with John. But that time He had fewer followers in His wake, and had woven a flagellus of cords with which to drive His targets forth. THIS time, He needed no such weaponry, as the crowd trailing along seemed like an army. None had left His train as He rode up to the Temple, expecting to see quite a “show”. (In which expectation they were not disappointed.)

All of us, however, could feel The Master’s waves of grief as He strode, resolute, and cleared out the space from which He chose to teach throughout this week. It’s not “mind reading” to see what The Master reflects on when His grief is so profound and He speaks words aloud.

His heart was breaking as He revered this place, this House built by Solomon for the Shekinah to dwell among His people… and saw it degrade into a tawdry merchant market to milk the piety of the people for their esteem and their money. Jerusalem “slayer of the prophets”, and centre of religious hypocrisy.

Throughout the shouting, cursing, and chaos of driving out the temple merchants, Archangel Michael and his honor guard had stood tensely at the ready. No thoroughbred racehorse in their starting gate ever trembled with suppressed speed and rage to begin, as did those angels in that moment.

But… no word came… no trumpet rang… no bell or shot.

The temple cleared, the conspirators hated, plotted, and retired behind closed doors, the Dark Ones grinned even more broadly leering at us, and The Master simply sat down to watch people come make their offerings…

As we all settled back to continue watching events unfold…

*Sigh*… More later. Things seem to have settled down, but we shall wait and see.

Journal Entry by — Makarion Nous, Angel 3rd Class, General Duties

Angel’s Journal, Second Entry: “Maybe they’re getting it?”

Journal Entry:

I want to get this down, now, while things are still so up in the air.

Clearly, His Majesty’s warning informs us that bad things are yet to happen, and there’s a whole lot of plotting and planning going on behind closed doors. (Of course, no doors are really “closed” to us, so we just have to bear with all the deceit, motionless.)

But a couple “days” ago, The Master entered Jerusalem, earth’s Holy City, where once He resided with them at the Ark of the Covenant and where He instructed (in great detail) how His temple was to be built. (Of course, that has seen better days, since that whole Babylonian debacle… still, the Temple is quite a monument to Him… and The Master always pays a great deal of attention to its goings on… But I get ahead of myself.)

Anyway, like I was saying, The Master rode into Jerusalem. Darius and Erich, on the message delivery rota for that day, were THRILLED when tasked to go to a nondescript farmer in a village near Bethpage outside the city (not the Bethpage on Long Island, but the other one outside Jerusalem), and visit his dreams with the message that The Master would need his small white colt that day, and would send a disciple to pick it up. We angels have been bound to watch these events unfold in something very close to man-time, rather than our own eternal time. But still, at least we sometimes get to participate in LITTLE ways, even if not in the “big stuff”.

Anyhow, The Master mounted the cute little colt and entered Jerusalem, packed with people, visitors there from all over the known world. As he entered, his vehicle striding relaxedly down the main road, a current seemed to move from the outskirts into the metro centre. At first just a few, the young and the quick, dashed off to inform the crowds…

“He is COMING! He’s HERE! Jesus! Jesus! He’s riding into town! He’s Here!”

It reminded me of so long before, the message some of us got to deliver… shepherds, kings, a blind man, an old woman, a priest… of course, Gabriel got to do THE Message. But still, lots and lots of us got to sing with that heavenly host as the Star shone above the Stable. It was magnificent!

And here now, these kids got to do the same. They dashed into the City, telling everyone who would listen… He’s HERE!

Ah… yes… my point. Sorry, I keep forgetting. Anyway… it was just so AMAZING! Makes me wonder if maybe this week stuff won’t be so bad. I mean, you’d swear they GET IT! The people, and I mean just about EVERYBODY, cheered Him! They cried out “Hosanna”, just as we do! They proclaimed Him “Blessed!”, just as we do! They called Him “Son of David”, and “He who comes in the name of the Lord!”, just as we do!

Could it be? Is it possible? Do they really see?

They cheered, bowed, and threw their cloaks and fronds down in front of Him. They greeted Him as the King He truly is!

Those who track the Dark Ones and monitor the conspirators against Him did not seem terribly encouraged, but *I* certainly was. Who knows, maybe this will all work out after all! I can live in hope, no?

Maybe… just maybe… they really ARE getting it?

More later, as things unfold!

Journal Entry by — Makarion Nous, Angel 3rd Class, General Duties

Angel’s Journal, First Entry: “Drama, Not Tragedy…”

Journal Entry:

Something very strange has been happening, and you can cut the tension with a knife. I wish I knew… I wish I understood… I wish I could see beyond the mist of time Our King has placed in our way. It is all very strange. Of course it has been so for “years”, as men call them.

The Dark Ones have been cackling with a very self-satisfied (and disturbing) air of conspiratorial glee for months now. We see their obvious plotting. Of course, most of us have watched events breathlessly, and cheer every time The Master wins out over the clever traps of those who seek His defeat.

But beyond the general buzz here, (and of course, heaven doesn’t usually “buzz” at all), but these thirty three years have been altogether strange in our experience… but beyond that general buzz, there was that incredible flurry of excitement months ago when the plotting began in earnest. We hang on every word and thought around The Master, jostling to be the “messenger” when He gets apart to spend time with His Majesty on the mountainside… Sometimes, not often, but sometimes, one or two of us get to go there, alongside Him, as servant to comfort… or like when the escorts went with Moses and Elijah and The Master spoke with them face to face.

We have waited. Tensely, anxiously, hopefully… we have waited for the order. We just KNOW that His Majesty is working a plan, His will, with The Master that will bring all this to a great and triumphal climax! We just KNOW that! But… but… we have no idea HOW! Everything seems like it’s going from bad to worse. The Dark Ones are gaining ever more leverage among the authorities. People among whom The Master walks, even those He is with day in and day out, seem to miss the point of EVERYTHING He is saying. (All the time!)

Yes… the tension here is so great you can almost see it hang like a mist in the air! Last week it got so much worse. (Who would have thought it could?) But last week, beyond all belief, the herald angels blew their trumpets… the Great King, His Majesty, called ALL before Him to speak with us. His voice cut across the Cosmos, piercing every heart and mind assembled, as He spoke.

“My Children. Angels, Saints, Sleepers, Creation, I must tell you something hard for you to hear. Hard for you to bear. It will be hard for you to witness, but bear this you must…

“Your Master, My Son, My Beloved… whom you have watched over so diligently for what has seemed an eternity of man-time as He developed through His earthly life… will be coming home very soon now.”

At this there was a moment of great joy and adulation! Cheering nearly broke out, dampened only by the somber tones in which this announcement had been proclaimed. It sounded more like the pronouncement of a sentence, than the triumphal heralding of return. We were, again, confused.

“I must tell you, right here, right now… that all that is unfolding is My Will. You may not, you MUST not, interfere in anything you will see or hear. You will want to. You will know you could. My Son will even say something, soon, that you will want to interpret as permission to rescue Him. But it is NOT. Listen carefully to the words He says, and remember this assembly before Me. You may not move, you may not act, no matter what you see, hear, think or feel… until I give you specific permission to do so.

“Does EVERYONE here, clearly understand that?”

And His Majesty looked sadly and solemnly into the eyes of every being there, individually. (He can do that… it’s one of those odd… well… just trust me, He can do that.)

Each of us yielded and submitted to His command, as we spoke, “Yes, Father,” to Him. And we were dismissed.

Many of us looked around at one another, wondering what this could all mean. We looked at the Archangels, wondering if they knew more than we did. Their expressions gave nothing away, but for their hearts being filled with concern, sadness, and perhaps just a touch of anger. Gabriel, Raphael, Michael, angels of care, of death, of judgment, angels of ponds and pools, guardian angels, seraphim, cherubim, all the heavenly host… all drifted back to their assigned duties, filled with concern and readiness.

It is hard to say whether Michael or Gabriel were having the hardest time. Gabriel had always held The Master and His Mother in tender concern and care, ever since The Master left His throne here and incarnated. Michael, on the other hand, leader of The Master’s Host, just keeps polishing His sword, constantly tormented by all the threats of violence against the Master’s person that he overhears humans plotting… frustrated at being forbidden to deal with the miscreants himself.

So… we wait.

Something tremendous is happening. There is a sense of dread in the air. We have been warned and commanded, and clearly such an unusual assembly portends great and terrible events.

A drama unfolds… it is unfolding as we speak… but we KNOW somehow, that it is not a tragedy. But how can this be so?

We shall just wait and see… We have no obedient choice…

Journal Entry by – Makarion Nous, Angel 3rd Class, General Duties


How to live “Christian”…

Good Sam GlassIf you have read much of my writing, you know that I have realized that for me, in my conscience, “sin” has acquired a fairly simple definition. “I ‘sin’ when I treat any sacred person or object, as less than sacred.”

Well, while reading through the tale of Paul/Saul’s conversion on the road to Damascus, God stopped me dead in my tracks at the words, “a very bright light suddenly flashed from heaven all around me, and I fell to the ground and heard a voice saying to me, ‘Saul, Saul, why are you persecuting Me?’And I answered, ‘Who are You, Lord?’ And He said to me, ‘I am Jesus the Nazarene, whom you are persecuting.’“ (Acts 22:6b-8)

And I tried to move on, and the Lord stopped me time and again… “No, Little Monk, you missed it… look again.” And so I did, over and over. Until finally the words began to light up for me… “persecuting ME“… I am Jesus the Nazarene, whom you are persecuting.”

It struck me how very strange… how wrong… this seemed. Wait… Jesus was already ascended. Saul never saw Him. Never spoke with Him. Never persecuted Him. Saul was persecuting FOLLOWERS, BELIEVERS… Saul was persecuting what we like to think of as “The Church”, an institution… a corporate entity…

No,” Jesus replied. “He WASN’T… He was persecuting PEOPLE. He THOUGHT he was attacking an institution, a corporation, a movement… he called it ‘The Way’… but he was helping arrest, try, convict, condemn, and execute PEOPLE. He killed them, trying time and time again, to kill ME.”

That was the breathtaking, heart stopping, realization here. “Me”… Jesus… King… Lord… not THEM… not Church… not movement… not follower… not even “precious child”… but “Me”.

If that were true…

If that’s what Jesus really meant in His cry to Saul…

If Jesus meant… JESUS… in Saul’s attacks…

Then… then…

Did that mean that when I offend another… when I attack them… when I injure them… when I belittle, or demean, or judge them… that it is not only THEM I hurt, but JESUS?

This was not a happy thought. I did not like this thought. I sought to push away this thought… and rather than help me with this, Jesus instead just “piled on,” reminding me of Matthew 25:31-46… that whole “Sheep-Goats-Judgment” thing, reminding me, “Truly I say to you, to the extent that you did it to one of these brothers of Mine, even the least of them, you did it to Me.”

Do you see it? Do you see it too?

Now, Jesus never EVER whines to or at me. But sometimes, not often, but sometimes from time to rare time, His voice will tend rather to ‘yodel’ with excitement or frustration, when He says something like, “WHY, Little Monk! Why don’t they see, why won’t they hear? I am PERFECTLY clear here… but even YOU are only now starting to see My words, that are and were perfectly clear for centuries. I am NOT being ‘figurative’ or ‘poetic’! I am not exaggerating… I am THERE… IN THEM… and yes, when you hurt or wound any, with your actions, attitudes, silence, or words… yes, you wound ME! Any questions?”

“Nossir. No questions. I need to process this for a bit, though, if that’s ok.”

“Sure thing, Little Monk. You process away!”

by Rebecca Ann

To all of my beautiful friends and family- I am asking your prayers for my dear blogging friend Martin whose sweet Rebecca Ann passed away on November 4, 2015. I hadn’t caught up with Martin for awhile until Rebecca Ann’s post showed up again on my feed. My heart is that we will come together as a community for Martin. You can comment on other posts from Rebecca Ann’s blog as I believe comments are already disabled on this post. Martin, we love you and are all here to pray for you and encourage you.

Throne room

One more about worship…

Speaking of heaven

It wasn’t the throne room. I thought it was at first, because of the raised platform with several large throne-like chairs in the center. The platform stretched across the rear of the building, resembling a theater in its structure.

As the focal point of my vision was changed, however, I realized that the huge auditorium was more like a cathedral; a sanctuary. Broad and deep, a multitude of rows filled the room, arranged stadium style in an arc facing the platform.

On the platform were seated the recipients of the worship about to begin. Father. Jesus. Holy Spirit.

Worshipers soon took their seats in the sanctuary: musicians of many instruments, enough to fill a multitude of orchestras; singers and dancers. Men and women and children, every race and culture were represented.

So many different instruments! Some I had never seen before. Trying to take it all in, I was an…

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