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NECHUM SURMISED HE and Akela must have arrived early, for many of their brethren weren’t there yet. Just ahead, Jubal, a seraph, had neither lowered his gilded horn nor silenced his herald, and Neryia, the Archangel of Worship, seemed to be attending to the final details.
“Guess we’ll have front row seats, eh?” Akela joked.
Nechum nodded, but had no desire to speak. All his attention stayed near the throne.
Archangel Neryia adjusted the shimmering circlet that graced his brow, the symbol of his appointed status, and straightened his attire. The purple velvet robe and cream-colored tunic God had gifted him matched his six luminous wings. All of which splayed themselves behind him as a train. Neryia brushed back his snow white hair, yet ever always, Nechum sensed the uneasiness behind his violet eyes.
Nechum sighed to himself, wishing he could ease that Archangel’s self-consciousness. His meticulous nature was indeed ideal, but not for all circumstances. Nechum pondered if striking a pleasant conversation with him after the assembly just might give him the relaxing distraction he’d need. Until then, Nechum opted to meditate on His Lord while he waited.
Just one faint vision of God's throne room made the heart yearn for more. A gentle, pale smoke rose from the dancing flames of a jeweled altar. It collected in the ceiling, leaving a pleasant, purifying aroma. The thickest portions of those curling plumes beget streaks that colored the air in which they hovered—sometimes in colors never imagined.
Crystal waters covered the golden floors. They floated elegantly through pearled pillars and gathered into a deep pool surrounding the Throne. The Great Throne itself stood on a dais of golden stairs. A river of white tumbled down the steps on all sides. It intermixed with the pool below, causing an overflow into a wide inlet. The River of Life it was called, and it never ceased to fill the halls with its tender sounds.
Nechum watched Neryia and the other seraphs bow their heads. They approached the Throne’s steps. Their feet walked atop the waters yet remained completely dry. Tiny ripples shimmered and multiplied with every touch of foot and wing, and the closer the angels neared God, the brighter they glowed. By the first step they set on the first golden stair, they overflowed with their Master’s glory, the light of which focused and refracted in small circles all over their beings; as though they were covered in brilliant, sacred eyes.
Neryia's violet clothes turned white, and gold embroidery suddenly traced along its hems.
Even Nechum, who wasn’t as close to the throne as the worship angels, trembled with the Almighty’s power surging and building up inside him. It began filling him to bursting. He hurried forward with an equally eager Akela to their God and King, the Alpha and the Omega, the Beginning and the End, indescribable and unfathomable. As their Creator, all angels couldn’t see Him as anything less than their Ruler. The only One truly worthy of their respect.
Archangel Neryia raised his hands toward the Almighty. His contained energy unleashed in a dazzling display of purple fire that engulfed him. His fellow seraphs also ignited in similar holy flames. Their many wings outstretched and danced in synch. Their feathers tingled as wind chimes as they swayed. Lifting off, they floated and twirled like falling cherry blossoms riding the ever-changing winds, and their blazing hands and feet traced graceful circles, alighting patterns that reflected off the clear waters below.
Cherubs joined their numbers, and each climbed the air on four wings. They were less graceful than the seraphs, yet were twice as powerful and exuded enormous strength. Their beings constantly shifted into that of animals to represent all of nature in God’s presence. Sometimes they were lions, sometimes they were eagles, or anything in between, and ribboned violet fire from the seraphs shone upon many a shimmering scale and feather.
Nechum heard new voices singing and turned. Angels from every corner of existence now crowded in by the thousands and multitudes of thousands. Nothing in the earth, skies, seas, or galaxies could compare. Ministry angels. Messenger angels. Angels of Death, the Army and Nature angels. All of their clothes shifted to a gold embroidered white that matched the purified worship angels. All of them now bathed in God’s Shekinah glory. Their footsteps brushed more golden ripples atop the water's surface in shining strips that reflected off the pillars, and Nechum joined their choir. Their voices lifted to higher harmonies impossible for humans to find.
The last two Archangels, Micheal and Gabriel, emerged from the crowd. Nechum nodded in respect as they passed by to present themselves.
Neryia, who noticed their arrival, slowed into a descent. He landed between them, and it was plain to Nechum that he lifted his head high to make up the difference in his comparably small height. Neither Gabriel nor Michael spoke or sang. However, they gave their smallest Archangel a brief smile of reassurance. Amidst unimaginable lights, colors, and music, they each removed their glimmering circlet, knelt, and placed them upon the lowest step of the Throne before bending to a full bow.
Nechum, Akela, and the whole throng hushed as they followed suit. They lowered to their knees and pressed their foreheads against the waters. Wishing moments like these would last forever, Nechum sensed the warmth in his Master’s smile. No angel dared break meditation by looking up. The observed silence was far more profound, far more comforting, and far more beautiful than any song. All was still. All was at peace. All was right in the universe.
After a time, Neryia addressed the crowd. “My brothers!” his voice echoed. “We have gathered once again to present ourselves before our Lord! For this is the day that the Lord hath made...”
“LET US REJOICE AND BE GLAD IN IT!” replied the multitude, as they rose to attention.
The voice of God the Father, loud yet comforting, spoke. “Well done, my good and faithful servants. But before you each begin, a visitor has come forth to speak.”
“Must You insist on spoiling my surprises?”
Just like that, all joy died. Nechum shuddered. He'd be a fool to mistake that voice.
“Oy-vey,” Akela mumbled. “Now what does he want?”
After considerable effort, Nechum mustered enough will to look upon the visitor as he came forth.
Self-proclaimed Prince Lucifer, the only rebel brave or stupid enough to set foot in God's presence, strutted atop the River of Life right up to the Great Throne. This corrupted cherub, the strongest of his kind, was well built and gifted with winning charms to equal the most cultured of nobility—whenever he had a mind to use them.
Nechum grimaced at his pallor. Though finely chiseled in appearance, like all demons, Lucifer’s luster had paled to a sick grey after being starved from God's presence for so long. The eyes of demons—the eyes of traitors—either yellowed, went red, or were reduced to a black blank. Their wings dulled with grime, and instead of the golden energy that gave angels power and life, their energy resembled blood—hellish and red.
Lucifer leered at the two angelic soldiers who blocked his path. "Move." His four wings wrapped around himself into a black sheer cape. “Or be moved.”
“Let him come,” the Lord commanded.
The angels backed off, and Lucifer elbowed one as he passed.
Archangel Michael unsheathed his sword; his huge wings poised to strike.
“Fear not, Michael,” God commanded. “Put away your sword.”
The General of the Lord's army obeyed, but his eyes still flared white with fiery energy.
“Yes, we wouldn’t want to chip our nails, would we?” Lucifer taunted, as he gave a smug smirk.
Micheal looked ready to pummel him for such blatant disrespect, and Nechum couldn’t blame him despite his apprehension for violence. He’d do it himself, too.
Lucifer's head circled from side to side. His wings twitched in agitation at the disapproving company. “Oh come, now,” he chided. “Is this any way to treat an Archangel?”
God's voice bore down on the devil. “You gave up that title the day you forsook me.”
“Yes, then You picked a new favorite.” Lucifer eyed Neryia with acute distaste.
Neryia’s throat tensed.
“And here he is,” Lucifer continued. “Cowering beneath you like a twittering chick. And how has my former assistant been?”
Neryia averted his gaze, and Nechum’s empathic sense registered the oncoming depression that threatened the seraph’s sinking heart.
"Doing well, I presume?" Lucifer pestered.
Nechum’s hand wrung the end of his tasseled shawl. Must that devil dig into him at every opportunity? Withstanding his presence was foul enough.
Lucifer cast a dismissive glance at Neryia's circlet left on the lower step. “You know, you look better without that on. Never did fit you.”
“SILENCE, SATAN!” God’s voice boomed like the crack of thunder.
The demon choked, his own words rammed back down his throat.
“THIS IS THE ONE TO WHOM I WILL LOOK: HE WHO IS HUMBLE AND CONTRITE IN SPIRIT AND TREMBLES AT MY WORD!”
All around, the angels murmured their agreement like birds communing in a crowded tree.
Lucifer coughed. Scrounging for his dignity, he tried to stand taller and adjusted his collar. "Touchy. Touchy," he mumbled.
"Where have you come from?" God asked.
"You're all knowing. You tell me," Lucifer scoffed. “I’ve come to complain about Your troops once again attacking my troops and stifling my good work.”
"Your good work?" Archangel Michael crossed his arms. No doubt he'd cast Lucifer right out with a boot to his backside for good measure.
Neryia touched Michael's shoulder, and the General’s tense arms loosened. This was the sanctuary, after all. Violence had no place there.
Lucifer smirked. "Yes, General Redundant, my good work. Perhaps you'd like to convene with Captain Obvious and Sergeant Pansy." He nodded toward Gabriel and Neryia. "Anyway, before I was so rudely interrupted. Was I not exacting long due punishment upon unworthy sinners?"
“You overstepped your bounds, Lucifer,” Gabriel corrected. “God would never grant you the right to take those people's lives."
"Overstep my bounds? Were they not to be handed over to me?"
"They were never yours, Lucifer," Michael reminded, not bothering to withhold his disgust. "Those Image Bearers bore the Mark of the Trinity. They are God's people. Your attempt to keep their souls from Him was doomed to fail."
"And soon they’ll live in eternal, undeserved bliss." The demon batted his eyes as he chirped with false sincerity. He glared at God. "Where is this justice you speak of? Was it not You who declared, 'The wages of sin is death'? You Yourself demand purity. Why is it then that You contradict Your statutes? These 'saved ones' or 'Christians' are no better, if not worse, than the average mortal. They're hypocrites. They wag their tongues, preaching holy living, yet wallow in their own mud—like pigs in their slop. Your salvation is nothing more than a scapegoat for loose living. A 'get-out-of-jail-free' pass for their lusts. So tell me, Holy Judge, where is Your justice?"
"What would you have me do?" God questioned.
"Let me punish them. They deserve it. I can reduce their pride to ash. Your 'consistent' nature demands it be so. Or is it true that hypocrites follow a hypocritical God?"
Nechum, along with his brethren, waited for God's answer.
"Oh, how you have fallen from heaven, morning star, son of the dawn!" God declared. "You prowl around like a roaring lion, looking for someone to devour." His voice rose. "I will repay each person according to what they have done... Yet... while they were still sinners... I died for them."
Those four simple words echoed deeply in Nechum’s mind. His Lord spoke them with such firm sincerity; they were love incarnate, overflowing with a quiet joy for the heart to marvel to.
"For I so loved the world that I gave my one and only Son, that whoever believes in Him shall not perish but have eternal life." Their glorious King's words flowed as a honeyed balm. Life issued in their utterance, sending rapturous chills in all who listened.
Lucifer grimaced as quiet 'hallelujahs' filled the halls.
God's voice darkened, "But for those who are self-seeking and who reject the truth and follow evil, there will be wrath and anger. For I do not show favoritism."
Once again, Lucifer opened his mouth in protest, but his words seemed caught in his throat.
“I judge the thoughts and intentions of the heart,” God continued. “You said in your heart, 'I will ascend to the heavens; I will raise my throne above the stars of God; I will make myself like the Most High.' But you are brought down to the realm of the dead, to the depths of the pit."
Lucifer rolled his yellowed eyes. It was only the umpteenth time he heard his impending sentence. “You could have just said ‘no’.” He showed God his backside and strolled out. “It matters not. I’ll have my way. Mark my words.”
Though relieved he had left, Nechum remained stiff. He didn’t fear the Devil. He wouldn’t win, but he had a knack for havoc.