Angels of Humility: A Novel

by Jackie Macgirvin

  “I don’t tell you things because you’re always trying to run my life.”

  “Duh, I am part of your life, remember? You married me. Just because you ran the church for a few months doesn’t mean you get to run me and every aspect of my life. You used to be so open to me participating with you, but it’s like you shut the Spirit out and now you just want to control everything, and you want me to follow you blindly. You won’t even listen to my input. I have no voice, Paul. I have no voice.”

  “Oh, you have a voice alright—It goes nag, nag, nag. And I listen to you just fine. I listen to you ramble on and on and on! I just don’t agree with you.”

  “I feel in my spirit that this jail opportunity is really God. It’s too much of a coincidence. This is the second offer. God brought it around again. I’ve been praying for you for months, Paul, and I don’t agree with you, either. I don’t think you’d even consider the fact that you might be in error. Why do you have to run everything your way? You’re like a one-man show.”

  “Well, I gave you the position of Sunday school director. If you want to run something, you can run that.”

  “Well that’s a moot point now, isn’t it?” As soon as she said it, she regretted it. She took a few steps toward him, her arms outstretched. “Paul, I’m sorry.”

  He vented a long string of profanity toward her and turning abruptly, slamming the door. Kathy heard the tires squeal away from the driveway.

  Why doesn’t she understand me? Why doesn’t she understand I’m concerned about promotion for me and my family?

  “I can’t even believe I said that.” Kathy held the crumpled business card and sat in the overstuffed chair trying to distract herself by smoothing out the wrinkles. The printing on the card blurred as tears filled her eyes again and ran down her cheeks.

  Lord, this isn’t how it was supposed to be. This is not the man I married. The man I married was passionate for You. He had a vision to do your will. He used to leave tracts everywhere—gas station restrooms, restaurant tables, and the library. Lord, all my hopes and dreams for our life together serving You are eaten up by his pride and insecurity.

  Valoe stood behind her, hands on her shoulders, interceding as she sobbed out months of grief and pent-up anger to the Lord.

  Paul’s familiar dark spirits fed off of his rage as he headed for Mt. Peilor.

  “Working in a jail would sure be a demotion. You’d be working with drug addicts and thieves—the scum of the earth,” hissed Pride. “You were destined for bigger things.”

  “Paul, the jail looks small, but God’s plan for it is huge,” whispered Saldu. “It looks demeaning, but it will bear so much fruit for God’s Kingdom. These prisoners are broken, but they know they’re broken and they’re hungry for God; they just don’t know how to find Him. There’s so many good things that Father has planned for you. Trust Him with your life, humble yourself, and serve these hurting men. When your life is over, you’ll be amazed at the rewards you receive. Everyone who humbles himself will be exalted!3 Right now the focus of your life is yourself. Your purpose should be God’s Kingdom, but you’re actually a stumbling block.”

  “Ha,” sneered Deception, smirking at Saldu, “Paul forgot he was put on this earth to bring glory to God’s name, not his own!”

  Probably the only true words he’s ever spoken, thought Saldu, sadly.

  “You don’t need that jail,” scoffed Pride. “You can get a job anywhere. Under your leadership that church was really growing. People were praying and visiting on Wednesday and Thursday. There hadn’t been that much action there in years. I can’t believe they fired you.”

  “That’s right,” whispered Deception wrapping a tentacle around Paul’s chest, “you’re on the cutting edge. You’re a visionary. There was action going on at the church. Now that you’re gone, it will probably dwindle back to apathy.”

  “You need to find another church and get out of this one-horse town. You should go somewhere where the people are a little more sophisticated, where they can appreciate your education, where they can appreciate you as the visionary you are. You’ve got drive, your five-year plan shows that,” added Self-Adulation.

  Yeah, I’ve got drive. I’m not afraid of hard work. I just need a group of people who want to follow the Lord and be progressive. I’m sick of this, “We’ve-never-done-it-this-way-before” attitude.

  “That’s exactly right, Paul,” croaked Deception wrapping another tentacle around his neck, “you’re too good for this backward town. You’ve got a master’s degree from seminary. What do these people know—?”

  “Paul, don’t you realize you’re walking right into the enemy’s ambush?” Saldu interjected. “Use your discernment. Resist these flaming darts! Put up the shield of faith. God has great plans for you, but you have to follow His plans in His timing! You also need to turn this car around and go back and apologize to Kathy. You really wounded her. She loves you and really does have your best interest at heart. You need to turn the car around NOW, Paul. TURN AROUND NOW!”

  Paul was so used to listening to his demonic cohorts that he could no longer identify the voice of truth. The spirits kept telling Paul exactly what he wanted to hear, and he kept listening all the way to Mt. Peilor.

  “You probably shouldn’t have said half that stuff, but you need to go cool off, and you can always apologize when you get back,” said Manipulation. “You’re under a lot of stress. She’ll understand.”

  Saldu’s power was useless until Paul repented and asked Father for help. He could only watch in revulsion while he prayed fervently.

  Paul had never been to Mt. Peilor before. It was the biggest small town around for miles. He saw the exit for the business district and pulled off. Although he wasn’t aware of it, he was following instructions from the demons, and soon he ended up in front of the only business open this time on a Thursday night—a bar.

  Paul’s dad had been an alcoholic. Growing up, Paul swore he would never touch the stuff. However, when things got stressful in college, he turned to the bottle for relief. When his dad died of cirrhosis of the liver, it was enough to scare Paul into quitting. Although alcohol hadn’t been much of a temptation since, he was surprised to feel that old impulse again.

  “You just need one drink to help you relax. Your muscles are tight; you’re tense. Too much pressure, too much stress,” whispered Manipulation.

  Paul looked up and down the street. It was pretty much deserted. Who would know me here anyway? No one.

  Saldu knew the stakes were high tonight. He prayed, he rebuked the warfare, and he cried out for mercy, but he knew in the end it all came down to Paul’s choices. Saldu got out and stood between the bar and Paul’s car. He pulled his flaming sword and held it with two hands high above his head and listened to his instructions from the open Heaven above. The jewels on the sword’s handle glistened, reflecting the flickering flames.

  As Paul got out of the car, Saldu plunged the tip of the blade into the street directly in front of Paul. “It’s the flaming sword of the Lord, Paul, to divide between what is and isn’t Him in your life. Don’t walk out of its protective boundary. I can’t help you if you do.” Saldu’s eyes were blazing like fire with a severity that implied it was time to make a serious choice.

  “Don’t walk away from the protection of Father who loves you so much. Your life and ministry are just beginning. He has wonderful plans for you, Paul. Don’t be deceived. Do what you know in your heart is right. DO THE RIGHT THING!”

  Although Paul couldn’t see the sword or Saldu; he hesitated, sensing in his spirit that a decision needed to be made and that the stakes were extremely high.

  What am I doing at a bar? I can find someplace else to let off some steam. He started to turn back toward the car. Immediately he was distracted by a spirit of Addiction that materialized on his shoulder, “One little drink can’t hurt anything. It will just help you to relax and see things a little more clearly. Then you can go home and apologize. By then Kath
y will have cooled off, too. She probably doesn’t want you home right now anyway. When you wake up tomorrow, it’s a new day. Then you two can start planning your new future together. What can one drink hurt?”

  Yeah, what can one drink hurt? I can get back on the straight and narrow tomorrow. Besides, I had professors in seminary that drank. Paul stepped through the unseen sword, crossed the street, and pushed open the door to the smoky bar. Saldu sheathed his sword and looked toward the heavens, awaiting instructions he knew were coming.

  Paul emerged an hour later and walked unsteadily toward the car. One drink “just to relax” had turned into several, which had turned into far too many. His evil alliance had persuaded him he was invincible.

  With the help of his spirits, Paul was able to stay between the lines driving back to Bradbury. When he arrived at the city limits, instead of going home, he listened to the spirits’ suggestion that he drive by the jail. He parked in the lot and glared at the big building. To him it represented his failures and seemed to taunt him. He felt impotent, weak, and powerless. He squeezed the steering wheel. This should be my ground for my church. If Sarah weren’t so money-hungry it would have been. I can’t believe she thinks I should work here. Doesn’t she ever give up? I hate this place and everything it represents. I don’t want to work with these losers. I didn’t earn a seminary degree to work with common criminals at some jail. Anyone who knows John 3:16 can do that! I was meant for bigger and better things. I wouldn’t work here if it were the last job on earth. I wouldn’t even work here if God Himself told me to.

  Saldu wept.

  The powerful, gargoyle-like spirit of Death entered the car and fixed his scaly, dark eyes on Paul. “It’s time to head for home, Paul. You’ll feel better in the morning.” Clutched in Death’s embrace, Paul turned the ignition. Death sneered at Saldu and dug one talon firmly into the side of Paul’s head. His blood red fangs appeared as he smiled at the other demons. “I’ve got orders. Tonight is Paul’s night!”

  The spirits danced, shrieked, and taunted Saldu with their mocking laughter.

  “We’re going to take him out, and you can’t stop us.”

  “We’ve won this one. He’s as good as dead.”

  “You can’t intervene unless he repents, and his heart is as hard and as cold as a stone.”

  With no demonic assistance driving this time, Paul veered wildly down the road. When he reached the same stretch of road where Sarah had almost lost her life, the demons sprang into action. The gravel crunched under the right front tire as the car veered onto the shoulder. In his impaired state Paul overcorrected and shot across both lanes. He hadn’t buckled up. Saldu would have normally reminded him, but not tonight—by Paul’s own choice, he was on his own.

  Saldu remained seated as the car headed over the steep bank. Paul screamed out in terror and spread his arms to brace himself. A kaleidoscope of scenes from his life flashed in slow motion through his mind—his mother and father, his wedding day, his ordination, Jordan’s birth, and the last ugly words he yelled at Kathy.

  “Oh, God,” he screamed, but not as a prayer.

  “It’s too late,” roared Death as he grabbed Paul’s head and smashed it against the window on the second roll over. The scent of fresh blood caused the demons to salivate.

  Saldu gathered Paul’s spirit as the car came to its final resting place—on its roof, in the creek. Though the demons could not claim his spirit—it was eternally redeemed by Jesus—they rejoiced over and danced on his bloodied, lifeless body.

  “We did it. The proud ones are always the easiest,” shouted Self-Adulation.

  “We cut his life short by half a century, at least!” said Addiction.

  “We don’t have to worry about his ministry any more. If he had lived and followed the plan, he would have been major trouble for us,” said Manipulation.

  Deception grinned, “It was no secret he had a strong calling on his life—”

  “They all do,” interrupted Death, “they just don’t realize it.”

  The spirits continued celebrating Paul’s wasted potential, potential that would never mature and assault their kingdom. They especially rejoiced in the knowledge that they had caused great sorrow in the God-head over the premature death of their loved one.

  CHAPTER 39

  “The life of every man is a diary in which he means to write one story, and writes another; and his humblest hour is when he compares the volume as it is with what he vowed to make it.”

  James M. Barrie1

  “The high calling is not out of reach for anyone that the Lord has called. I will tell you what will keep you on the path of life—love the Savior and seek His glory alone. Everything that you do to exalt yourself will one day bring you the most terrible humiliation. Everything that you do out of true love for the Savior, to glorify His name, will extend the limits of His eternal kingdom, and ultimately will result in a much higher place for yourself. Live for what is recorded here (Heaven). Care nothing for what is recorded on earth.”

  Rick Joyner2

  Paul could see his body in the upside-down car and immediately knew what had happened.3 Although he struggled frantically, he could not escape Saldu’s gentle, but strong embrace. Grief and dread flooded his mind and soul. “No, no, wait. I’m too young to die. I have a wife. This can’t be happening. Please God, No, NO! I have a son.” Panic flooded over him like a tidal wave. “I can’t go yet; it’s not my time. It can’t be my time. I’m too young. Send me back; send me back. I can’t go now! This is a nightmare.

  I’ve got to wake up! HELP ME, HELP ME!” Saldu didn’t answer; he just followed protocol, turned his face toward the celestial city, and lifted off the earth.

  The death of God’s committed saints is always a joyful time for the guardian angels who, of course, love their charges very deeply. But as Saldu carried Paul, he shuddered for what he knew was ahead—the test of fire.

  Saldu had seen the agony and regret too many times before, and he was aware of Paul’s unrepented sin—lack of humility, great ambition, unforgiveness, and his tendency to pass judgment, among other things. Saldu had been working with him for years to develop a Christlike character focused on others’ needs.

  Rebellion and wasted potential. Wasted opportunities, wasted days, weeks, and months have all added up to a wasted life. There was so much more that God had for him. Saldu knew great regret and emotional pain was ahead. God’s mercy is so great, but at the evaluation, before He wipes away every tear, well, this will be brutal. When he sees the Lord’s burning heart of love toward him and His eyes overflowing with affection just for him, he will indeed suffer a tragic type of loss.

  Saldu’s strong wings propelled them closer to the celestial city. Paul was fully conscious and could see a bright light, brighter than earthly words could adequately describe. It was brighter than 10,000 suns, and it seemed to be coming toward him at the speed of light. It beckoned to him and welcomed him. Even though he knew it was home, and he longed to be there, already a wave of remorse washed over him and a deep sense of regret consumed him. He was drawn to the city, but the closer they got, the more repulsed he was by his sin.

  As they arrived, all Paul could see was brilliant, blinding red. Saldu escorted him to the edge of a massive fountain with thousands of jets shooting columns of crimson liquid high into the air. The massive fountain obscured everything, and it seemed to go for miles high and wide—Paul could see nothing else.

  He had lost his robe of humility at seminary, and his robe of righteousness was filthy and torn. He intuitively entered the fountain, and his spirit was clothed with his new heavenly body. As the blood washed over him, it left behind a golden celestial glow, not a red stain. He looked in amazement at his hands, arms, and feet. He felt as light as a feather and was now wearing a dazzling robe of light. But the awe of the incredible spiritual transformation was swallowed up in a very real, overpowering sense of dread unlike anything he’d ever felt.

  When Paul stepped out
of the other side of the fountain, he saw Jesus, in His indescribable splendor, waiting for him. He was dazzling, holy, and radiant. His beauty was unspeakable. Love emanated from Him and glory swirled around Him. His fiery eyes of love looked directly at Paul, penetrating every cell of his being. Paul had never felt love like this before. His whole body was alive and energized in Jesus’ presence. Every cell of Paul’s new being loved and adored the beauty of Jesus, yet his first response was to look away—to the side, to the ground, anywhere except into those loving, penetrating eyes. In the midst of this true, true love, he was overcome with sweltering shame. Surrounded by beauty and pure love, for which he was created, all he could think was, I don’t deserve to be here. I wish the ground would open up and swallow me.

  Paul could feel power emanating from Jesus as He ran and embraced him. His deep, tender voice enveloped his whole being. “Oh, Paul, I love you.”

  Paul felt full of shame over the eternal consequences of his sin. Unable to look into Jesus’ eyes, he buried his face into the brilliant robe. “I’ve got to go back; I’ve got to go back,” whispered Paul as he sobbed, “What about my wife? I can’t be here yet!” Jesus’ great love overwhelmed him.

  “I know, I know,” a tear runs down Jesus’ cheek. “It’s too soon. It’s too soon, Paul.”

  Paul took a step back and looked desperately, pleadingly at Jesus, “Send me back, please, just send me back.”

  “I can’t Paul. I can’t.” Paul could feel the Lord’s grief on top of his own. He was unable to stand under the weight of it. He collapsed again into Jesus’ arms. Paul could feel the Lord’s heart beating. His heart was not synchronized with it. With each beat, he could feel the Lord’s anguish. Paul was crushed by the Lord’s grief and great disappointment at his early arrival.