The angel reached over and grabbed my short ponytail, hanging over the back of my crewneck sweater.
“Let’s go!” he said.
He took off, with me in tow, up through the ceiling and the roof of our apartment house, out over the campus of the University of California. Within seconds, we landed on the pinnacle of Sather Tower, overlooking the Campanile Esplanade. Birge Hall was to my right and Bancroft Library on the left. Though usually I am acrophobic, the two hundred foot drop to the ground did not seem to faze me.
“What about the people?” I whispered, worried that someone might overhear me. “Won’t they see us?”
“Hush!” he exclaimed.
His eyes locked on mine and I looked away. He was the alpha dog in our twosome.
“To answer your question, we are in the spirit realm. Only beings with spiritual eyes can see us now.”
I kept quiet. No use taking a chance on upsetting him again, I thought.
His next words caught me off guard.
“What did your grandmother prophesy over you that night in your dad’s church when you gave your life to Jesus?”
My salvation took place when I was twelve years old, fourteen years earlier, but somehow, I still remembered every word Grandma spoke over me. But why did he want this information? I hesitated a moment or two.
His eyes glared.
“Yes?” he said as a prompt.
I blew out a deep breath.
“Okay, okay,” I blurted out. “She prophesied that the Lord had called me to be a prophet and a spiritual warrior, much like Jehu. She said I would take on the religious spirits, the Jezebels of my day, and trample them under my feet…”
“You’ve omitted something, haven’t you?”
I sighed. This was not easy for me.
“Yes,” I said, blowing out another deep breath. “She asked me if I were willing to accept the prophet’s calling for my life.”
“What did you answer?”
“Yes.”
His eyes pierced through the hard crust covering my heart. I felt devastated as if I had let the Lord, Dad, Grandma, and everyone down. I wanted to hide from his stare. It felt as if he could see my heart and knew how rotten I really was.
“This is IOU collection day on your fourteen year old promise.”
His words triggered an automatic gasp.
“Really!” I exclaimed. “How can that be?”
(The above is a scene from my e-Book novel, Deceived Dead and Delivered, available on Amazon.)
Just so you know: this is fictional. Whether it accurately portrays principalities, powers, rulers of the darkness of this age, and spiritual hosts of wickedness in the heavenly places, we may not know until Jesus returns.
(Continued in Part 24)
Mr. Larry, you are a gifted writer with the ability to share spiritual truths through your stories. That is not easy to do!!! Thank you and God bless you!
Debbie,
Thanks. I can honestly say it has not been an overnight happening in me. These scenes were written and rewritten about 45 times.