Protecting Angels?

It came to me as a flow of understanding.  As I listened to my mouth speak.  I was afraid of the words I heard.

On the nightstand of a child sits a statue of an angel.  Comforting words are given to the little one, and she falls into deep sweet sleep.

Mother and father leave, closing the door softly behind.  Off to watch the horror movie they have desired for so long.

Then my mouth spoke of things I had never heard.  Astonishment is the only possible way to describe the understanding.

For longer than the scientists claim the universe has existed, the Holy Angels have served the Most High God with excellent faithfulness.  Even at the great falling away of Heaven, they kept their place with love for He who lives forever.

How ancient and beautiful are these creatures the statue represents?

Then my mouth spoke of the judgement day, that coming date of Revelation and abject horror.

There are the mother and father, countless mothers and fathers.  There stands the results of their teaching, their children are there with them.

Stands the living God.  The proclamation is made.  And those who spoke comfort to their children, witness these living, beautiful, holy, and righteous creatures come and take them to their rightful place.

I make no statement of prophecy.  I did not see this with my eyes.  I attribute nothing to my words more than surprise.  I cannot say this is a revelation from God.  But it is the truth, certainly, among the ungodly.

Let all who read this ponder these things with sincere, earnest, and sober mind.

Rights and Obligations

I have no right to ask anyone to love me.  For wouldn’t that put the burden of expectations squarely on their small shoulders? 

I have no right to ask anyone to respect what I think or what I do.  For wouldn’t that nullify their own opinion?

It is better to give love without being asked.

It is better to respect without expectation of return.

For if we do not give we freely, will be miserably surprised at the response.  Duress has a price.

What is the Nature of Love?

The parents of a murderer are pressed hard against the wall.  They remember when he was a baby; purely innocent and full of potential.  But now, like he, they must face the fact of the things he has done.  If he is sentenced to life in prison, they have to wrestle with the understanding that he will never come home again.

With the purest possible love, and the greatest possible regret, they remember him when he lay so sweetly in their arms.  But mistakes, the influence of outside forces, and the choices of the man, have ripped potential from their dreams.  Who can voice a sadness like that?  Tell me that loss isn’t personal.

Tell me they don’t think of how much better it might have been if their sweet baby had been stillborn.  Better for the victim’s family.  Better for the society that was robbed of precious potential.  Better that a prison cell should house anyone else, and that for lesser crimes. . . PLEASE!  Better for the sounds that the walls of their house remember.  Better for their aching hearts that cannot find healing.

They cannot love their child to the potential they once desired, for once a deed like that is done it cannot be erased. 

But you will not rip away what love remains, from their hearts.  For they will seek with great diligence to find the shreds of their baby that remain in their son.

Love is not passive. 
Love is not blind. 
Love is married to wisdom.
Pure love understands what is pure. 
Love makes way for reality.
Love may experience restriction.
Love may be forsaken!
But it is impossible for love to die.