Today is the first day of February
2010 in the creation calendar. Master Gabriel had tasked me to run some errands
and the list is getting longer since the time of the Reformation. I am just half
way done with it. I know the next few tasks are not going to be easy.
They involve ring-fencing the moral consequences arising from a man-made
tragedy that is going to befall on a poor village family in South Africa.
I cringe when I have to do such errand.
It's heartbreaking. But an errand
is an errand and I have no cause to complain.
Considering my position, I am infinitely more blessed to be doing what I am
doing instead of finding myself trying to survive on earth where the great divine
chess game is still being played out.
Alas, even the fact that humans will
one day rule over us when they reign with the Prince of Peace is no incentive
for angels to trade places with them. The risk is just too high.
No one here needs to be reminded that
not all will be saved. Those who are not
will be eternally lost. And there will
unavoidably be a lot of them. It therefore stakes everything on the celestial roulette
table with the dices of doubt and faith enmeshing and rolling together in a
perennial frenzy before they finally settle on a pair of numbers that is beyond
one's control. It is even rumored that the gamble is rigged with a Calvinistic sleight of hand.
So if there are places that even
angels fear to tread, the lonely via
dolorosa road is but one of them.
But I guess the hardest part about being
an angel is
to stand by and watch as the struggles of human affairs unravel in
the most macabre way imaginable. Here, I am reminded that we angels have all
sworn to an omerta-like oath and to
break it is to fall by the wayside forever. No one thus dares defy it. It is an
oath of non-intervention unless we are called upon to do otherwise for a specific
purpose because everything has its place and time, so decreed the Creator.
Of course, miracles do happen and the
Creator has his own mystery plan all decked out on
humanity's chessboard. But
it is still an impenetrable mystery that sometimes pulls me to my tethered
limits.
On earth, the killing is getting
worse. Men with power are acting like gods and men without are dying like dogs.
The struggle has magnified from massacre per estate in the prehistoric past to
massacre per planet in the recent nuclear age.
Even on a smallest scale perceivable,
in the poorest families around this cursed globe, the weaker sex and her defenseless
offspring are being condemned into an existence
that is far worse than death.
Their pain and their scream, like bloody nails on divine chalkboard, cannot be
ignored. From their perspective, however narrow, the promised victory that awaits them when the new heaven
and earth is established just doesn't do any justice to the unspeakable tragedy.
As a minutest pin in this eternal monolith, I am many times tempted to go beyond my call of duty, to run my own
errand, to intervene under the cloak of darkness, and to break the oath and
face the consequences.
With
trembling resolve, the
temptation to loosen that chain just a little so as to allow one or two bonded
young girls to escape is unbearable. Or the urge to derail the savage enemies
possessed by lust and rage by contriving an unnatural storm or conjuring an
eclipse to darken their route to mayhem is almost overwhelming.
But alas, I have neither the guts nor the wits to bring my resolve to
fruition. The spirit and the power that come with it are no doubt more than
willing and able but the irreversible
consequences that flow from this
intervention greatly restrains me. I therefore withhold not because I am unable
to act but because I am afraid that my action may forever alter the course of
what is ultimately believed to be in the best interest of creation.
So, in the interim, between the long
past genesis of creation to the coming revelation of the end, I will try my
level best to distract myself from the deafening earthly screams by keeping
myself busy running those seemingly endless errands and wishing for eternity
to show himself sooner rather than later.
Only then, can I ever hope to connect
all the dots that the Creator has so patiently sowed in this most perplexing
mystery that is human suffering under his loving providence and sovereignty.
Signed off
Angel of hope.
Signed off
Angel of hope.
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