Gabriel's Story - 22 March 2020

Readers, I apologize for not having posted for a while. Work has been a bit overwhelming since we started seeing the effects of the Coronavirus and since we published our book. The two events are unrelated, but share the blame in my absence regardless. Let's get back to Gabriel's Story!

He awoke to the same cacophony of sounds – the beeps and whirrs of machinery, barely audible yet still unintelligible voices in the distance, a cry, a groan. At least his semi-private room at Good Shepherd was warmer than the ICU he’d lived in for over a month. Why they kept those rooms so cold was beyond his comprehension. As he lay there, Sean concentrated on each sound to identify its origin and location. It was a skill he started practicing when he first awoke, one he thought might benefit him in the long run. Sean was nothing if not pragmatically prepared.

Beep…beep…whir…click

Too many to distinguish, he thought. “Concentrate, Sean.”

Beep…beep…whir “Isolate.”

Whir…hiss…whir…hiss “Ventilator. That’s Bob’s ventilator and it’s still deep to my left, against the wall and behind the curtain, which is why it’s muffled.”

Click…tick…tap…click

Hmm, that’s new. It’s coming from…click…tick…tap…click…tick…my feet, no, just beside the foot of my bed, to the right. What is it? Click…tick…click…tap…click…click…click.

“Gabriel?”

“Impressive, Sean. What gave me away?” Gabriel sat in the lone chair at the foot of Sean’s bed tapping his fingers against the chair’s arm, his nails needed cut.

“Well, to be honest, it was the lack of a pattern.” He reached for the bed’s controls and began raising his head. “When I first heard you, I was a bit confused. It sounded like you were maybe playing a tune, alternating your fingers and foot. The rhythm threw me for a second, until you changed it up. It had to be human noise since everything else in here has its own rhythm.”

“The Anchor Holds.” Gabriel revealed the tune that was playing in his head – the one he hadn’t realized he had been tapping out – the one Sean heard.

“Ah, I should’ve recognized that.” It was one of his favorites. “I got your fingers, tapping on the chair’s arm, and your foot. I’m guessing left foot since it sounds closer to the door than your finger tap. But I’m puzzled by the click. What’s that?”

Gabriel shook his head, hanging it a little lower. “I was hoping you couldn’t hear the click.”

“Why?” For the first time that morning Pastor Sean opened his eyes, but the complete blackness remained. He had been blind since emerging from a coma three weeks ago, a complication of the surgery to repair his experimental prosthetic bone anchors. When he finally awoke after two months in a coma, doctors informed him that he contracted a staff infection just before surgery and some of the bacteria had traveled to his brain, causing a stroke while he was on the table. The result was what they hoped to be temporary blindness.

“Because he hoped you wouldn’t hear me now that you can’t see me.” Abaddon chuckled as he resumed bouncing his ball. Click…click…click…

Sean turned his face to stare directly at the demon. “Why would you think that, demon? Your presence is a comfort.”

“Comfort?” He was perplexed.

“Yes.” Sean paused. “If you’re still here then I’m still a threat.”

Click…bounce…bounce…bounce Abaddon flubbed the catch, sending his ball bounding out of the room and down the hallway.

***---***

“I stopped in to see Sean before service this morning. I’m happy to report he’s in good spirits despite his vision having not returned yet.”

Gabriel stood behind the pulpit and gave his usual Sunday morning update to about half the normal crowd. The church had considered closing its doors after the events of the last few months. It was the ‘responsible’ thing to do, is what they said. Following a vote that split the church, they decided to keep the doors open. The Governor had even called Gabriel and gently reminded him that, while the State hadn’t ordered churches to close during the pandemic, it would eventually give that order. He had received numerous complaints from elders that Gabriel wasn’t even ordained, so he shouldn’t be protected. While the Governor avoided plunging headlong into a ‘separation of church and state’ issue, he did remind Gabriel that any church that defied the order would be forcefully boarded up and suffer the wrath of the State for its selfish acts during the global crisis. Gabriel heard it as a shot across his bow. He was undeterred.

“And I spoke with the Governor last night after his televised address.”

That drew murmurs from the congregation. The Governor’s speech wouldn’t draw critical acclaim, but one point had angered Pastor Sean’s congregation – one aimed directly at churches like the Ten Cities Church of the Nazarene. Gabriel confirmed the Governor’s intent when he mentioned the call to the congregation.

“Unlike his speech on Ten Cities News last night, he was eloquent and direct during our call, reminding me that the National Guard would not take kindly to our refusal to follow the order against congregating.” Gabriel paused, letting his words sink in before he continued, speaking slowly, clearly, and deliberately, reinforcing the importance of each word. “Church, let me be very clear on this. We will not defy the National Guard nor will we meet here once the State orders us to close the doors.”

Several of those in the congregation objected. Some just murmured while a few stood.

“Now wait a minute John. Hear me out.” He pointed to John, the leader of the group of parishioners who led the charge to keep the doors open. “Before you interrupt me, hear what I have to say.”

John ignored him, “Gabriel, the Bible is clear. ‘No weapon formed against me shall prosper’ and ‘do not forsake the gathering together of the Church.’”

“The Bible also says to ‘render unto Caesar that which is Caesar’s and render to God that which is God’s,’ so sit down and listen to what I’m saying.” He stopped talking and waited for John and his followers to sit. He softened his tone, remembering Sean’s words. “Sean and I are in full agreement on this. As long as the State allows us to come together, we will. But the minute they order us to close the doors, we will.”

John stood back up, but this time Gabriel didn’t give him his audience. He quickened his pace of speech and looked around the sanctuary. “It’s a simple case of catching more flies with honey than with vinegar, Church. Sure, we want to gather here, to benefit from the reinforcement we get from each other, but there’s a distinct difference between choosing to gather when we are allowed but advised against it, and defying the legal authority when we’ve been lawfully ordered to not gather. Can you see that? Can you see that Caesar hasn’t yet directed the taxing of this church, but when he does, we will pay because that, at that time, is the right thing to do.”

He met John’s stare and John sat down, his face revealing that he understood what Gabriel was trying to get across.

At the back of the church, Gabriel watched as Abaddon stood up and led his minions out of the sanctuary. They had gathered in the back, flanked by more than two dozen angels who stood, swords sheathed, and listened as Gabriel navigated the pastor-less church. Like Abaddon and his horde, the angels understood that as long as Gabriel followed the inner voice, the demons could harass them, but had no real power.

Just as Gabriel prepared to shift to the morning’s sermon, one fat little demon strolled back in, rambled right up to the front of the sanctuary and sat in the empty front row. He coughed, a plume of green vapor dissipating as it traveled. Then he smiled. “Um, ‘scuse me, Gabe.” He wiped his nose with his hand and dried it on the seat of the pew. “Aww, nobody sits here anyway so what’s the harm?”

From off in the distance, Abaddon’s voice interrupted the sermon. Most heard it as thunder and assumed a storm was approaching. They weren’t entirely wrong.

“Covid!”

The fat little demon hopped down, saluted Gabriel, and ran for the door. “See you soon!”

Gabriel looked out over the congregation who sat, patiently awaiting his wisdom. Wisdom. Now that’s a joke. “Turn with me to second Chronicles, chapter seven. I want to talk about a passage from the Bible that has merit today, even if it’s been taken horribly out of context by most people who either misunderstand it, or are purposefully misusing it to sow fear. We’ll start in verse twelve.”

“I have heard your prayer and have chosen this place for myself as a temple for sacrifices. When I shut up the heavens so that there is no rain, or command locusts to devour the land or send a plague among my people, if my people, who are called by my name, will humble themselves and pray and seek my face and turn from their wicked ways, then I will hear from heaven, and I will forgive their sin and will heal their land.”

“As we go to prayer, let’s think about this scripture and try to understand that God is not saying that every drought or plague is his tool to bring us to our knees in prayer; on the contrary, He would rather we already be on our knees in prayer when the Devil sends the plague.” He watched as an angel who had been standing behind him walked down from the pulpit and stood in front of the pew defiled by the little demon. Slowly he drew his sword, the light of which nearly blinded Gabriel. Equally as slowly he placed the tip of the sword at the place the demon had sat and thrust it through to the floor. As the angel looked up and prayed in a language Gabriel could neither hear clearly nor comprehend, the pew began to glow as scales fell off onto the floor.

From the distance Gabriel heard another howl.

The thunder rolled.

The war began, not with a mighty cry or an act of outright sedition or the clash of forces on a field destined to bleed, but with a simple, slow, deliberate act by a lone angel in response to a simple rude gesture.

Nevertheless, the war began.

From the writer of B.O.R.N. for the Quest (available from Amazon)

https://www.amazon.com/B-R-N-Quest-Healing-Waters/dp/B0851LXVWR