Friendship With God

Angel after angel crowded into the mass of heavenly hosts assembled at the mysterious unseen door between heaven and earth.  They could not believe what was happening to the son of man on the planet far, far below them.  Each angelic creature strained and jostled for position in order to view the trial of heresy begun for the Son of the Highest.  Mouths agape as their hearts tossed and turned with unbelief, each celestial creature marveled at the outrageous events unfolding below.

Jesus was carrying his cross down the narrow, winding path out of the city of Jerusalem, carrying it for his own execution.  Horrified glances from one angel to the other belied the shock that was now rocking the heavens.  ‘Where were his disciples?’ the angels wondered.  ‘Was there no one to defend him or support him on the planet?’  One by one the armies of the Lord of Hosts turned to Michael, the Archangel.

Looking to the mighty creature that had astounded them all with his unusual prowess in the past, heaven’s battalions listened for fresh orders, for a signal to quick concerted readiness for battle.  Eager to go and rescue their Friend, the son of man, the One they had known in the heavenlies from ages past, each warrior being expected a call to action forthcoming.

But Michael, whose glittering form shone like the moon in brilliance, was not watching the unfolding scene of brutal torture down below.  No, Michael’s eyes were fastened on the right hand of the Lord of Hosts, the Almighty.  He was himself eagerly awaiting the signal from the Commander of the heavenly armies that would send them all flying to his Son’s side.

After all, they had been there when the blessed family stole into the night to escape the massacre of the innocents at Messiah’s birth.  They had encircled the little frightened family with their battalions of unseen warriors all the way to Egypt’s great river delta.  They, according to orders, had made sure that no harm came to the child of promise.

And later on when the son of man was fully grown and began his fast of forty days and forty nights within the cold, stark crevasses of the Judean wilderness, it was they who were finally allowed to come and strengthen him at it’s end.  How gladly the angelic host had rushed to his side then to feed and comfort Israel’s Messiah as they had the weary prophet Elijah in his frightened flight from Queen Jezebel.

Chosen exclusively for the privilege of ministering to the Son of God, heaven’s host rallied again for another opportunity for service.

But a fresh and troubling cloud of dismay began to drift over the angelic guardians when, in that dark and lonely garden, he himself had abdicated his will to the Father in complete submission.  For the Father did not look at all concerned!  He did not appear troubled at the capture of Israel’s holy king.  The Commander of the armies of heaven was calm and composed at what they were seeing far below.

Yet even now they were beginning to nail the son of God to a cross.  The frustration level among the angelic host began to mount and rise to a height never before seen in angeldom.  Their Friend was being executed along with two thieves like a common criminal!  Again they stared at Michael, whose eyes were still riveted on the mighty right arm of the Lord of Hosts.

But the strong right arm of the Lord did not move!  It did not signal the rescue of David’s appointed heir.  Instead it just rested upon the arm of the heavenly throne peacefully.  Bewildered and perplexed, the angels began to rant in mad confusion.  ‘Didn’t anyone care what was happening to Jesus?

Why was the Father not calling them to formation, to battle, to glorious redemption?’

It was then that the Almighty did move.  He slowly pointed to his Son upon that cruel cross and exclaimed somberly, “He is the redemption!  He is the salvation!  He is the Lamb of sacrifice!”  And then when Jesus needed his Father most, the Father turned his face away, unable to look upon the sin that now engulfed his Son’s entire being.

It was then and only then that the angel battalions discovered that this time they were ordered to let him die.  A higher mystery was unfolding – a mystery so high that they could not grasp it, try though they might.  Orders for deliverance never came that fateful day in history.  The angels were to remain in obedient, unexplained submission, like the Son, to the will of the Almighty.  They were to remain unarmed in their place.

There was a power, a steely resolve in the eyes of the Almighty that baffled them all.  He was sovereign, He was love, and yet He was determined not to rescue his own Son.  They mystery haunted each angel for what seems like an eternity.

And then they heard the Son’s own power-filled declaration, “It is finished!”  ‘What was finished?’ the angels puzzled as they began to calm down.  And as they continued to watch the scene below, the earth began to shake, the sun grew dark as midnight, and fear began to fill the hearts of those who watc