The President’s Angel

Hair bristled on the back of his neck as he jerked awake. No birds sang. No wind whistled through the pines. Not a breath of air stirred. A dazzling light filled the sky. His arm flew up to protect his eyes. My God! A nuclear blast? Eyes squeezed shut, he waited, tensed and poised, for the thunderous blast that must surely follow. Nothing broke the silence. When he opened his eyes, everything looked normal but felt abnormal. The atmosphere seemed to pulsate with energy. He felt a force—strong but not painful—like an invisible hand, push him back against the rocks. What the… He sensed the presence of someone or something seconds before a shimmering figure materialized on the ledge a few feet in front of him. Scrambling to his feet, he stumbled back against the stone pillar. Arms flung out, his open palms glued themselves to the rough stone. What…what is this? It looks like a man…but it’s not. Pulse throbbing at his temples, he felt like his head would explode. Trembling knees threatened to give way, and his heart rate had to be off the charts. Despite the assault of physical reactions, his mind began processing. The being was slightly taller than Drum and wore a long-sleeved, loosely fitting silver-gray jumpsuit. Wild! An iridescent aura radiated from the being, dimming and brightening in a hypnotic effect. Fascinating! Drum wanted to look away, but couldn’t. He tried to speak, but no words formed. Then the man, or whatever it was, slowly stepped forward, one hand extended. Don’t touch me! Drum pushed himself tighter against the stone backdrop. He looked towards the path leading down—the being was blocking it. Oh God! What is this? Help me. Help me! “Don’t be afraid.” The deep rich voice seemed to roll over him. “No harm will come to you. I am a messenger sent with an important word for you.” Drum clutched his chest, broke out in a cold sweat; he was nauseous, dizzy, and weak-kneed—all symptoms of a heart attack. I’m having a heart attack! Shortest presidency in history. The being spoke again, “You have nothing to fear. Relax….” Easy for you to say. He leaned heavily against the stone pillar. “Who…or what… are you? How did you get up here?” “I’m a messenger,” the being replied. “I have a word for you, Drummond Wakefield.” Then he smiled. “As to how I got here, you might say I just dropped in.” He would wake up in a minute and this thing would be gone. That’s it. Close my eyes. Deep breath. It’ll be gone. The being was still there. Drum stared, wide-eyed. “Oh no! You must be an alien from outer space.” “In a way.” The being held out his hands, palms up. “I’m an angel—a messenger from God.” God has messengers? “I don’t understand….” “I’m the angel who stands guard over your nation’s capital.” First I heard of that. “What!” The angel repeated, “I stand guard over your nation’s capital.” “So who’s minding the store while you’re out here on a mountaintop in Wyoming?” He realized he sounded flippant, but sarcasm had always been his defense mechanism. No roller coaster ride could be as extreme as the ride Drum’s emotions were taking—dipping, climbing—flinging him this way and that. “Everything is under control,” the angel being replied. Yeah. If you say so. An invisible, yet tangible, substance seemed to flow from the angel to Drum; an eerie calm enveloped him. His hands no longer clung to the rock, and he peered at the so-called angel. “But angels are in heaven. They have wings and wear long robes. You’re wearing a jumpsuit—or whatever you call it.” The angel stroked the shimmering fabric. “It’s always a challenge to know what to wear for these assignments. I try to blend in with the culture and the times, but a business suit—or even western wear—seemed inappropriate. This seemed rather Star-Treky.” He extended both arms to display his garment. “As for wings and long flowing robes, you’re thinking of Christmas card angels or angels in famous works of art.” Angels watch Star Trek? “But…some angels do have wings…don’t they?” Drum inched closer. Maybe this guy had some tucked in back. “I’m not here to give you a course in angelology. Everything God wants you to know about us can be found in the Bible. Do you remember any Bible stories about angels?” “A few. But that was in Bible times. This is the twenty-first century—for God’s sake!” The angel’s countenance was serious—even stern. “You might want to watch your use of the Almighty’s name.” He paused. “And may I remind you the God of the Bible is also the God of the twenty-first century.” “Sorry,” Drum mumbled. Stepping nearer, the angel reached out to touch the column of rock. His expression softened. “I’ve never been in Wyoming before.” “Oh.” So what do I say, Welcome to our state! “It is quite beautiful.” The angel gazed at the far mountains and then back at Drum. “Before I arrived, you were reflecting on your Creator—how easy it was for you to believe in God when you were here. You were wishing you could carry the peace you find here back down there with you.” “How do you know that? Can you read my mind?” “Not exactly,” the angel replied. “The One who knows the thoughts of all people supplies the information I need. I listen…He speaks…then I speak.” Makes sense, I suppose. Drum could use a little more time to digest these incoming tidbits of information from the angel. But he found himself agreeing with—or at least appreciating—the logic of the angel’s statements—even when he didn’t fully comprehend them. He felt like he’d stepped into an entirely new dimension—or had a new dimension stepped into his life? His tension level dropping to a manageable level, he said, “I almost believe you. If God is really all some people claim He is, I’d like to think He cared enough about this nation to have an angel standing guard over it.” “Not just your nation…although many of your people tend to think that way,” the angel said. “God is concerned for the people of all nations. And certainly not just one angel per nation. We are many.” “Do you angels do this kind of thing often? Just drop in on people?” I’m actually carrying on a sensible conversation with this guy. How about that! “It’s not the Creator’s usual manner of communicating with the people of this planet. But it’s not all that uncommon,” the angel replied. “Most people, however, do not talk freely about our visits.” I can understand that! “The Bible contains several accounts of angelic visitations: Abraham, Joshua, Peter, Paul, Gideon.” The angel walked to the edge of the ledge and looked down. “You wouldn’t want to fall off here.” He turned back to Drum and seemed to be waiting for a response. “You were talking about angelic visitations in the Bible….” Drum prompted. “Oh, yes…are you familiar with Gideon’s story?” “Not really.” “My message for you is similar to the one delivered to him.” The angel stood so close Drum could have reached out and touched him if he wanted—he didn’t want. “It would be good for you to read about Gideon when you get back to the ranch.” “I’ll do that,” Drum said with a trace of sarcasm. Like I even know where a Bible is. When had he excluded the Bible from his life? And prayer? And church? He couldn’t pinpoint the time—though it had to be almost twenty years ago. Certainly, it wasn’t a conscious decision—more a decision by default. If someone asked, he would have said he believed in God, yet he had lived most of his adult life as if he didn’t. The angel’s voice jarred him back. “I understand your doubts—and your resistance. Perhaps the message itself will convince you I am what I claim to be.” The angel cleared his throat, shoulders back, head up and eyes front. That’s his ‘deliver the angelic message’ pose. Drum stifled a grin.