by Max Lucado
FOREWORD
Spiritual beings populate the stories of Scripture. Angels singing. Demons infecting. Heavenly hosts fighting. Satan’s gremlins invading. Ignore the armies of God and Satan and you ignore the heart of Scripture. Ever since the snake tempted Eve in Eden, we’ve known: there is more to this world than meets the eye.
We know less than we desire about these beings. Their appearance? Their number? Their strategies and plans? We can only imagine.
In this book I did just that. Stirred by a message from David Lambert, I tried to imagine the spiritual conflict around the coming of Christ. Surely there was much. If Satan could preempt Christ in the cradle, there’d be no Christ on the cross. Don’t you think he tried?
I do too. The conflict was, no doubt, far grander and dramatic than anything we can fictionalize. But we can be sure of this: we know who won. Because we know He came.
“Gabriel.”
Just the sound of my King’s voice stirred my heart. I left my post at the entryway and stepped into the throne room. To my left was the desk on which sat the Book of Life. Ahead of me was the throne of Almighty God. I entered the circle of unceasing Light, folded my wings before me to cover my face, and knelt before Him. “Yes, my Lord?”
“You have served the kingdom well. You are a noble messenger. Never have you flinched in duty. Never have you flagged in zeal.”
I bowed my head, basking in the words. “Whatever You ask, I’ll do a thousand times over, my King,” I promised.
“Of that I have no doubt, dear messenger.” His voice assumed a solemnity I’d never heard Him use. “But your greatest work lies ahead of you. Your next assignment is to carry a gift to Earth. Behold.”
I lifted my eyes to see a necklace—a clear vial on a golden chain—dangling from His extended hand.
My Father spoke earnestly, “Though empty, this vial will soon contain My greatest gift. Place it around your neck.”
I was about to take it when a raspy voice interrupted me. “And what treasure will You send to Earth this time?”
My back stiffened at the irreverent tone, and my stomach turned at the sudden stench. Such foul odor could come from only one being. I drew my sword and turned to do battle with Lucifer.
The Father’s hand on my shoulder stopped me.
“Worry not, Gabriel. He will do no harm.”
I stepped back and stared at God’s enemy. He was completely covered. A black cassock hung over his skeletal frame, hiding his body and arms and hooding his face. The feet, protruding beneath the robe, were thrice-toed and clawed. The skin on his hands was that of a snake. Talons extended from his fingers. He pulled his cape farther over his face as a shield against the Light, but the brightness still pained him. Seeking relief, he turned toward me. I caught a glimpse of a skullish face within the cowl.
“What are you staring at, Gabriel?” he sneered. “Are you that glad to see me?”
I had no words for this fallen angel. Both what I saw and what I remembered left me speechless. I remembered him before the Rebellion: poised proudly at the vanguard of our force, wings wide, holding forth a radiant sword; he had inspired us to do the same. Who could refuse him? The sight of his velvet hair and coal-black eyes had far outstripped the beauty of any celestial being.
Any being, of course, except our Creator. No one compared Lucifer to God . . . except Lucifer. How he came to think he was worthy of the same worship as God, only God knows. All I knew was that I had not seen Satan since the Rebellion. And what I now saw repulsed me.
I searched for just a hint of his former splendor but saw none.
“Your news must be urgent,” spat Satan to God, still unable to bear the Light.
My Father’s response was a pronouncement. “The time has come for the second gift.”
The frame beneath the cape bounced stiffly as Lucifer chuckled. “The second gift, eh? I hope it works better than the first.”
“You’re disappointed with the first?” asked the Father.
“Oh, quite the contrary; I’ve delighted in it.” Lifting a bony finger, he spelled a word in the air:
C-H-O-I-C-E.
“You gave Adam his choice,” Satan scoffed. “And what a choice he made! He chose me. Ever since the fruit was plucked from the tree in the Garden, I’ve held Your children captive. They fell. Fast. Hard. They are mine. You have failed. Heh-heh-heh.”
“You speak so confidently,” replied the Father, astounding me with His patience.
Lucifer stepped forward, his cloak dragging behind him. “Of course! I thwart everything You do! You soften hearts, I harden them. You teach truth, I shadow it. You offer joy, I steal it.”
He pivoted and paraded around the room, boasting of his deeds. “The betrayal of Joseph by his brothers—I did that. Moses banished to the desert after killing the Egyptian—I did that. David watching Bathsheba bathe— that was me. You must admit my work has been crafty.”
“Crafty? Perhaps. But effective? No. I know what you will do even before you do it. I used the betrayal of Joseph to deliver My people from famine. Your banishment of Moses became his wilderness training. And yes, David did commit adultery with Bathsheba— but he repented of his sin! And thousands have been inspired by his example and found what he found— unending grace. Your deceptions have only served as platforms for My mercy. You are still My servant, Satan. When will you learn? Your feeble attempts to disturb My work only enable My work. Every act you have intended for evil, I have used for good.”
Satan began to growl—a throaty, guttural, angry growl. Softly at first, then louder, until the room was filled with a roar that must have quaked the foundations of hell.
But the King was not bothered. “Feeling ill?”
Lucifer lurked around the room, breathing loudly, searching for words to say and a shadow from which to say them. He finally found the words but never the shadow. “Show me, O King of Light, show me one person on the Earth who always does right and obeys Your will.”
“Dare you ask? You know there need be only one perfect one, only one sinless one to die for all the others.”
“I know Your plans—and You have failed! No Messiah will come from Your people. There is none who is sinless. Not one.” He turned his back to the desk and began naming the children. “Not Moses. Not Abraham. Not Lot. Not Rebekah. Not Elijah . . .”
The Father stood up from His throne, releasing a wave of holy Light so intense that Lucifer staggered backward and fell.
“Those are My children you mock,” God’s voice boomed. “You think you know much, fallen angel, but you know little. Your mind dwells in the valley of self. Your eyes see no further than your needs.”
The King walked over and reached for the book. He turned it toward Lucifer and commanded, “Come, Deceiver, read the name of the One who will call your bluff. Read the name of the One who will storm your gates.”
Satan rose slowly off his haunches. Like a wary wolf, he walked a wide circle toward the desk until he stood before the volume and read the word:
“Immanuel?” he muttered to himself, then spoke in a tone of disbelief. “God with us?”
For the first time the hooded head turned squarely toward the face of the Father. “No. Not even You would do that. Not even You would go so far.”
“You’ve never believed Me, Satan.”
“But Immanuel? The plan is bizarre! You don’t know what it is like on Earth! You don’t know how dark I’ve made it. It’s putrid. It’s evil. It’s . . .”
“It is Mine,” proclaimed the King. “And I will reclaim what is Mine. I will become flesh. I will feel what My creatures feel. I will see what they see.”
“But what of their sin?”
“I will bring mercy.”
“What of their death?”
“I will give life.”
Satan stood speechless.
God spoke, “I love My children. Love does not take away the beloved’s freedom. But love takes away fear. And Immanuel will leave behind a tribe of
fearless children. They will not fear you or your hell.”
Satan stepped back at the thought. His retort was childish. “Th-th-they will too!”
“I will take away all sin. I will take away death. Without sin and without death, you have no power.”
Around and around in a circle Satan paced, clenching and unclenching his wiry fingers. When he finally stopped, he asked a question that even I was thinking. “Why? Why would You do this?”
The Father’s voice was deep and soft. “Because I love them.”
The two stood facing each other. Neither spoke. The extremes of the universe were before me. God robed in Light, each thread glowing. Satan canopied in evil, the very fabric of his robe seeming to crawl. Peace contrasting panic. Wisdom confronting foolishness. One able to rescue, the other anxious to condemn.
I have reflected much on what happened next. Though I have relived the moment countless times, I’m as stunned as I was at the first. Never in my wildest thoughts did I think my King would do what He did. Had He demanded Satan’s departure, who would have questioned? Had He taken Satan’s life, who would have grieved? Had He called me to attack, I would have been willing. But God did none of these.
From the circle of Light came His extended hand. From His throne came an honest invitation. “Will you surrender? Will you return to Me?”
I do not know the thoughts of Satan. But I believe that for a fleeting second the evil heart softened. The head cocked slightly, as if amazed that such an offer would be made. But then it yanked itself erect.
“Where will we battle?” he challenged.
The Father sighed at the dark angel’s resistance. “On a hill called Calvary.”
“If You make it that far.” Satan smirked, spinning and marching out the entryway. I watched as his spiny wings extended, and he soared into the heavenlies.
The Father stood motionless for a moment, then turned back to the book. Opening to the final chapter, He slowly read words I had never heard. No sentences. Just words. Saying each, then pausing:
Jesus,
Nail,
Cross,
Blood,
Tomb,
Life.
He motioned toward me, and I responded, kneeling again before Him. Handing me the necklace, He explained, “This vial will contain the essence of Myself; a Seed to be placed in the womb of a young girl. Her name is Mary. She lives among My chosen people. The fruit of the Seed is the Son of God. Take it to her.”
“But how will I know her?” I asked.
“Don’t worry. You will.”
I could not comprehend God’s plan, but my understanding was not essential. My obedience was. I lowered my head, and He draped the chain around my neck. Amazingly, the vial was no longer empty. It glowed with Light.
“Jesus. Tell her to call My Son Jesus.”
How thrilling had been our send-off! Michael, the archangel, read to us the words from the Book of Courage. The troops sang to the Father, begging His Spirit to accompany our battalion. The Father rose from His throne in a flood of cascading Light and gave us words of strength.
To the angels He urged, “Be strong, My ministers.”
To me He reminded, “Gabriel, Satan desires to destroy the Seed as much as you desire to deliver it. But fear not. I am with you.”
“Thy will be done,” I resolved and took my place at the apex of the troops. It was time to leave. I began the song of praise to signal our departure. One by one the angels joined me in worship and sang. One final time I faced the Light. We turned and plunged into the heavenlies.
On the wave of His Light we flew. On the crest of our songs we soared. Paragon was at my right, Aegus on my left. Both handpicked by our Father to guard the vial. Ever able. Ever nimble. Ever obedient.
So immense was our number that I could not see its end. Our strength knew no bounds. We flew as a torrent of stars through the universe: I at the helm, thousands of angels behind me. I delighted in a backward glance at the flood of silver wings rising and falling in silent rhythm.
From them came a constant flow of spontaneous praise.
“To God be all glory!”
“Only He is worthy!”
“Mighty is the King of kings and Lord of lords!”
“The battle belongs to God!”
I had chosen only the most able angels for my company, for only the most able could face the foe. Every angel had been willing, but only the most skilled warriors had been chosen.
We passed the galaxy of Ebon into the constellation of Emmanees. Out of the corner of my eye I caught a glimpse of Exalon, a planet ringed once for every child found faithful to the Father. Through the constellation of Clarion and into the stellar circle of Darius.
Around my neck dangled the glowing vial, its mystery still beyond my understanding.
Behind me I heard the soft voice of Sophio. The Father has gifted him with wisdom, and I have taken him on many journeys. His task is always the same. “Whisper truth to me as we fly,” I tell him, and so he does. “Lucifer is the father of lies. There is no truth . . . no truth in him. He comes to steal, kill, and destroy.”
As my courage mounted, so did my speed. We knew we would not fail. But we had no idea that the battle would come so soon. Only moments across the Ridge of Time, Paragon shouted, “Prepare yourselves!”
Suddenly I was entangled in an invisible net. Row after row of angels tumbled in upon me. Even the final flank was moving too fast to avoid the trap. Within moments, we were a ball of confusion: wings flapping against wings. Angels bumping into angels.
Before we could draw our swords, our attackers drew the net so tight we couldn’t move. From within the fray I could hear them mocking us.
“You’re the best of heaven? Ha!”
“To the pit with you!”
“Now you will face the true master!” they taunted.
But their celebration was premature. The King had prepared me for this web of evil. I knew exactly what to do.
“Holy, Holy, Holy is the Lord God Almighty!” I shouted.
“Holy, Holy, Holy is the Lord God Almighty!” Over and over I praised my Master. My angels heard me and joined the worship.
Weakened by the words of truth, the hellhounds released the ropes, allowing us to break free.
“The Lord loves those who praise Him!” Sophio shouted in triumph.
Liberated, we brandished our swords of Light, each connecting with the next, forming a seamless ball of brilliance. Blinded, the demons crashed into each other and then scrambled to escape. I dispatched a platoon to pursue them. “Make sure they don’t return!” I instructed.
I studied our flanks—first one side, then the other. No losses. The attack had only increased our resolve. I began to sing, and we resumed our journey, bathed in the Light of our swords and the music of our adoration.
We passed the golden planet, Escholada, signifying our entrance into the chosen galaxy. Each of us knows well these stars. We frequent them on missions. Despite our fond memories of these constellations, we did not pause. Our mission was too vital.
“Gabriel.” It was Paragon calling my name. “Behold, in the distance.”
I had never seen such a demon. His jackal-like head sat on a long, scaly neck and dragon body. His wings stretched so wide they could engulf a dozen of my fighters. Each of his four feet appeared strong enough to crush an angel. “Who is he?” I asked Paragon and Aegus. It was Sophio who answered.
“It is Phlumar.”
“Phlumar? It couldn’t be!” Before the Rebellion he was our chief singer and most noble fighter. He would often fly ahead of us, suspended on the graceful rising and falling of lustrous wings. Many of the songs I now sing, I’d first heard from the lips of Phlumar. Now look at him, I thought.
What happened to the sterling eyes and white robe? What happened to the countenance of joy? As I drew near, the repugnant smell of evil caused me to wince. I readied my sword, expecting an attack. I did not expect a question.
“My f
riend, how long has it been?” The voice was as warm as an archdemon can feign.
“Not long enough, child of hell,” I shouted in his face as I soared past. I didn’t trust myself to stop. I didn’t trust my emotions or my strength. I kept moving, but immediately he was next to me.
“Gabriel, you must listen to me.”
“Your prince is a liar and the father of lies.”
“But my prince has changed,” Phlumar argued.
I did not slow down. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Aegus and Paragon flying wide-eyed with their hands on their swords, awaiting my command. I prayed that they wouldn’t see the concern in my eyes. If Phlumar had retained one-tenth of his strength, he could destroy an entire battalion before I could respond. He had been the mightiest in our class.
Phlumar continued, “A miracle has occurred since you left on your mission. My master witnessed your utter defeat of our forces. He is disturbed by your strength and his weakness. He is equally perplexed by the offer of mercy which came in the throne room. He says you were there, Gabriel. Did you see it?”
Though I didn’t respond, the image of God’s extended hand came to mind. I thought of the tilted head and remembered my first impressions. Could it be that Satan’s heart indeed had softened?
Emotion accompanied Phlumar’s plea. “Come, Gabriel. Talk with Prince Lucifer. Plead with him on the Father’s behalf. Speak of your Master’s love. He will listen to you. Let us go together and urge him to repent.”
Phlumar accelerated ahead of me and stopped, forcing me to do the same. He towered above me. I thought I’d prepared for everything, but this I never expected. I prayed for direction.
“Together, Gabriel, you and I together again,” the dragon continued. “It can happen. We can be united. Satan’s heart is ripe; already mine is changed.”
Suddenly it hit me. Again, I knew what to do. I silently thanked God for His guidance.
“Your heart has changed, has it, Phlumar?”
His huge head nodded up and down. I turned to Paragon and Aegus. The fear on their faces was giving way to curiosity.
“You long to join our ranks, do you?”
