Was just thinking of a funny story that seems so appropriate for today… the day after a battle in which the angels swords clashed with the primative weapons of a host of the enemy’s most cunning cronies.
When my two oldest were 4 and 6, they spent few days at grandma’s house. They were afraid of the dark so my mom shared with them, that they each had angels watching over them. So my oldest promptly claimed Michael as her guardian, she said because he was the biggest and could fight the best. My second oldest, a wee four year old, said “yeah, well my angel’s name is Dave, and He has a big sword too.” I just remembered this today, and laughed and smiled, as I was thanking God for his army.
In my daughter’s childlike faith, God painted pictures on their hearts, He allowed them to see, the power of His great love. In all this I was taken back to my own childhood, memories of angels. In my small world… they walked beside me and I imagined them wielding great swords and creating a barrier between me and all hell could unleash. God placed His angels charge over me, from the day I began my life here. He armed them and spoke to them and whispered all that I’d need their care in.
Last night I was reminded of what angelic swords sound like in battle. I had forgotten, the blessing of an angel army, in the rage of the enemy’s battle lies and shouts of hatred for my king. Their dark and sinister den, was seeping into my heart, and clouding truth and rendering my weapons useless. Last night, saw me crouching on my knees, not surrendering but absorbing each manipulative blow. Bleeding from my heart wounds, I heard something… realizing I didn’t have to take one more blow. And just before a death strike was issued, I took a step that changed the course of the battle. I turned my back, and faced my Father, begging Him to send reinforcements to bolster my resolve. The first clash of angelic swords rang out immediately. I closed my eyes and pleaded for peace, as I looked upon my family. And when I opened them, the carnage of the enemy’s lies, were laying all about my feet. Soon they evaporated into the darkness, some licking the wounds of the sword of truth and some being dragged lifeless from the light of the Son.
In the peace of surrender to God’s army, I found myself standing on my knees. Whispering relief and thanksgiving, in a way that had been foreign. I am still breathing in the sweet aroma of broken alabaster box… a priceless sacrifice, seeing flashes of light as it is reflected off of a thousand sheathed swords and hearing the echoes of a thousand angels singing over me…with my Father… a song of great victory. Though I wonder at the unexplainable peace and why there is joy… it is becoming clearer hat I was not meant to wield a sword alone that day. I am not sure if I am ready to be a soldier, but it is comforting to have the knowledge that I do not ever fight alone. My Father send His angel armies.
It may not be an angel named “Dave,” but I have an angel that is made battle ready by the King of Heaven… hand picked for me. I have a great King who commands these warrior angels.