Angelic Wars- First Rebellion Read online

  Inquisitive? But he had all but doubted the Lord. Even here he wanted to demand an explanation, but only little gasps escaped his lips.

  Azarias bowed his head. “The Lord’s Will is my desire.”

  The cherub raised two of his four wings. Azarias noticed his unusual arms. They did not have the seraph’s golden radiance, laced with scintillating channels. No, the color was softer and the texture more translucent.

  “Azarias, you have found favor with the Lord. There are angels conspiring to reject His Will and to dwell outside of the Spirit. They have been deceived by a leader who believes he is as great as God.18 It is the Almighty’s Will that you seek out these rebellious ones and cast them out of Heaven. You will lead God’s warriors.”

  The phrases rolled in his mind. He tried to imagine an angel as great as the Lord. Then he shifted to that word: rebellion. Angels didn’t rebel…

  Coldness pierced his soul.

  The cherub continued. “Their leader’s pride has twisted their spirits and infected their souls. He has tricked them into believing they are as great as the Lord. This angel thinks of himself as a creator and not as the created.19 His pride remained unchecked and untested and grew as a fatal, spiritual disease. The only remedy is to expel him from Heaven.”

  Azarias’s mouth dropped open. An angel could not just will himself from created to creator, could he? His eyes drifted down toward the wheels again, but this time staring, not seeing. Even as he digested each of the cherub’s accusations, he still could not grasp such a possibility.

  The cherub glided his wings back and forth. They directed the mist. “If this angel and his followers are left unchallenged, their poison will infect the entire Holy Order, perverting the holiness of Heaven. God’s Will would no longer be relevant, and His love will no longer be desired by those who rebel.”

  This last explanation made Azarias tremble. His eyes jumped to the cherub’s face again. He found his voice. “God’s Will would no longer be relevant? That can’t be. Angels need God’s Will to perform and God’s love to exist. It seems impossible that any created being would reject God’s love.”

  He furrowed his brow. How could God allow a being…a created being, to think he was God? There must be some misunderstanding.

  But as he searched the cherub’s face, he saw only fierce surety.

  No…it couldn’t be. The cherub was asking him to save Heaven from…a false god.

  To expel him.

  Azarias bowed. “O Great Cherub, who am I to challenge these angels? I am not of great stature or ability.”20

  No response. Azarias looked up and stepped forward, opening his hands. “There are other angels more capable and equipped than I.”

  The cherub’s gaze burned into him.

  “My gifts are merely discernment and reflection, and I don’t speak well in front of others. Why would the Lord entrust the ultimate mission to one so flawed?”21

  The sound of a choir saturated the mist. Though faint, it resonated deep within Azarias’s soul. He recognized the music as the Holy, Holy One song sung at the Lord’s Throne.22 He longed to see the Throne someday, but as a seraph ranked low in the Holy Order, he could not travel there. Instead, he imagined the beauty of the Throne by this music when he walked alone among the mesas. He tried to suppress this elation, still overcome with the magnitude of his mission. But it was no use.

  The cherub smiled and then whispered, “Only the Lord knows the reason.”

  Azarias closed his eyes, still absorbing the Spirit’s sensation.

  “He has granted you the use of other angels to help you achieve your objective. The Spirit of the Lord will choose an alliance for you. The Lord also will expand your gift of discernment to approach omnipresence.”

  The mist parted, exposing a small rectangular object at Azarias’s feet.

  “As long as the angels in your command remain in the Lord’s Spirit, you will be able to observe them through this Tome as they perform their missions throughout Heaven—however, you will not be able to communicate with your angels when you are not in their presence. Moreover, you will not be able to use the Tome as you travel on your own missions.”

  Azarias picked up the grayish film, turning it over in his hand. It slightly eclipsed his open palm and did not boast of possessing any power, but Azarias knew better. God revealed His power in the most unlikely places in Heaven. He slipped it into his robe.

  He looked up. The cherub collapsed his wings, expelling a mist with a clap of thunder. He drew back from Azarias, rescinding the storm with him, and vanished in the distance. The turbulent skies calmed. The radiant glow and sweet scent of the Lord’s Spirit were all that were left.

  But serenity did not return to Azarias.

  Squatinidale loved the little amborlite that carpeted the Ephesus23 countryside. As he flew through this heavenly plain, these shimmering little flowers parted for him, bowing on their long stalks in reverence to the Lord’s Spirit that guided him. As he had done so often before, he agreed to meet Abaddon24 away from Ephesus’s great theater.25 It was no burden to come this far; the Spirit’s sweet, savory aroma seemed more apparent out here. The active part of Ephesus, like billions of Heavenly districts, brimmed with angels working their missions. He just had to escape occasionally to grow closer to his Lord on his own terms.

  The flat area didn’t brag of any spectacular features. Distant jagged outcroppings resembling posted sentries encircled it. The district of Ephesus glinted in the distance, marking its precarious presence midway up the side of one of these outcroppings.

  A bearer of God’s good news, Abaddon had the gift of a herald. One time, as he stood at the center of a stadium addressing thousands, the Lord’s Spirit infused his message so intensely that jubilant angels nearly stampeded him in their eagerness to start their missions. During such times, his delphinium blue eyes sparkled with excitement.

  Squatinidale, on the other hand, had no apparent gifts, at least in his opinion. He performed his missions joyfully, with precision, never asking for more than his share of attention from other seraphim. His stout and impish frame strained to reach an inferior height of nine feet. Yet he was grateful for his beautiful voice and chrysolite skin. Were these his gifts? He wasn’t sure.

  Ahead, at a distant outcropping, Abaddon rounded a corner. As always, Squatinidale recognized him with wonder. Abaddon sashayed these days, a signature stride as he walked—swaying his wings from side to side with an uncommon gracefulness. Squatinidale found this recently adopted flair comical. How did he get away with such affect? No matter, he just did. Squatinidale, meanwhile, would never attempt such an act. Even if he wanted to, his stout frame would not allow it.

  “Mai Deus Exsisto vobis,” the two angels said, greeting each other. “May God be with you.”

  Squatinidale sat and drew circles in the silicium particles while he waited for Abaddon to speak.

  Yet, he said nothing.

  Squatinidale looked up. Something didn’t seem right. Abaddon’s face glowed as blank as the semi-barren surface in front of him. “I know this will sound foreign to you, my dear friend,” Abaddon began, “but what I have to tell you has changed my whole purpose of being.”

  Squatinidale’s eyes strayed from Abaddon. He was in for another of Abaddon’s long-winded speeches, and this mildly depressed him. He could see angels in the distance flying into Ephesus. They may be attending the performances at the Odeum Amphitheatre. He thought about performances he had attended there. Someday he might find the courage to perform a song he had written. He heard that other angels who performed there had grown closer to God after their performances.

  Abaddon’s voice cut in. He threw his arms out and turned toward Ephesus. “I never realized my significance until I destroyed these restrictions, these walls, these things that kept me from becoming who I was meant to be.”

  Humoring Abaddon, Squat
inidale turned back and smiled. “What walls, Abaddon?”

  “The walls that kept me from understanding the universe.”

  “But we don’t need to understand. Just to obey. Isn’t it enough that we are given full access to the Lord’s love even though we may not understand why we perform some of our duties?”

  “That’s just it. The Creator prevents us from knowing so many things. How did He create the universe? What does the future hold? Am I here just to serve the Creator? What is my true essence?”

  Squatinidale rubbed the back of his neck and stood. Prevents? True essence? What was he talking about? “The Lord reveals to us what we can understand, my friend. Moreover, we must have faith in what He will do with us in the future. Why ask questions about things we may never understand because of our limited ability to comprehend? I am immensely happy with who I am because I know that I am loved by the Lord in boundless ways, and always have access to Him through His Spirit.”

  “How do you know that?”

  Abaddon’s voice bit too low, with an unfamiliar overtone.

  “How do I know what?”

  “How do you know the Creator loves you, and how do you know that you cannot understand all heavenly knowledge unless you are allowed to view it?”

  When Abaddon paused, Squatinidale could feel something seeping into his spirit—speculation, a lack of trust, doubt? This hadn’t happened before. Abaddon always amused him with his teachings. When he felt lost and insignificant among billions of angels, Abaddon showed affection and kindness to him.

  Squatinidale shook himself. He couldn’t let Abaddon detect this uneasiness. Angels don’t doubt. He hoped that his demeanor didn’t give it away. His lack of self-confidence sometimes seeped out when he spoke with Abaddon. This would be nothing new. He looked off at the distant outcroppings where jagged peaks dominated the flat plains.

  Abaddon continued. “You understand these things as mysteries that are meant to be revealed by the Creator, but instead, they are secrets that are meant to be kept from you.”

  Squatinidale tensed. “Abaddon, how can you mutter such mutinous concepts when you know in your heart that the Lord has provided all the love, understanding, and knowledge that you can comprehend?”

  “Has the Creator done that?” Abaddon snapped back, eyebrows lowering.

  Squatinidale opened and then closed his mouth. “Of course, the Lord has done that.” Confusion and agitation filled Squatinidale about this exchange. This wasn’t the Abaddon he knew. “Why ask such a foolish question?”

  Abaddon kicked a small othelite sphere away and stepped toward Squatinidale. “You are a submissive little pet that glows with delight every time the Creator calls you to a mission. Don’t you get it? Why are you so naïve? Why are you so blind? The Creator fools you into believing this because He doesn’t want you to know the truth.”

  Squatinidale stepped closer. “What truth do you mean?”

  “That you are as great as the Creator. The reason that you have not realized this is because the Creator keeps your true nature from you.”

  Squatinidale’s face heated as he stood only inches from Abaddon’s nose. He could never match Abaddon’s oratory and debating skills. He had always just accepted what his friend said as truth. But not this time, he had to say something.

  “You speak blasphemy that is not based on truth and wisdom.”

  Abaddon smirked. “What if I prove it to you?”

  “Prove what?” Squatinidale glared into Abaddon’s eyes, now on fire with passion.

  “Prove that an angel can be as great, beautiful, and powerful as the Creator,” whispered Abaddon, as if avoiding an eavesdropper.

  As great and powerful as the Creator? How…

  Squatinidale cut his voice low. “Perhaps an angel could have greater gifts than other angels, but not as powerful as the Creator…”

  Abaddon just smiled.

  “But wouldn’t there be knowledge of such an angel? Certainly, that information would spread quickly throughout the entire Holy Order.” Squatinidale heard the faintest edge of panic in his voice. What was Abaddon doing to him?

  Abaddon peered into Squatinidale’s eyes. His smile grew cold and sinister.

  “I know one,” he said, lifting the weight off his eyebrows.

  “Y-you know what?”

  “I know an angel that is as great as the Creator.”

  Squatinidale mouthed the words as his eyes searched the ground for understanding. “As great as the Creator?”

  Abaddon’s face glowed with excitement. “This angel is not merely an angel. He redefines the Holy Order. He did not hesitate in leaving the Lord’s Spirit and discovering himself. As the most beautiful angel that has ever graced Heaven, he has found his true essence and offers to share his secret with any angel who has the courage and wisdom to believe it.”

  Squatinidale’s breathing intensified. Was Abaddon speaking the truth? He had never known any deceit in Heaven. If Abaddon were in the Lord’s Spirit, he could not speak a non-truth. But how could an angel be as great as the Lord?

  Abaddon pointed to the distance. “I can take you to him in another district.”

  “What? I don’t understand.” Squatinidale scowled. “We can only travel between districts where the Lord’s Spirit takes us.” He felt Abaddon wanted to steer the debate to God’s motive for creating an organized Heaven for the betterment of His subjects. But this debate would be silly. Squatinidale wanted to turn his back and walk away, but something kept him from doing so.

  Abaddon clapped his hands together. “That is the first truth I will teach you. You can go anywhere you desire by the power of your own spirit. You do not need the Creator’s Spirit. You have the power within you to go anywhere you desire.”

  How could he go anywhere he desired? What did he mean by the power of his own spirit?

  “No, I will not defy the Lord’s Spirit,” Squatinidale declared, finally tearing himself away from this morbid curiosity.

  “Defy?” Abaddon replied with surprise. “Who said anything about defy? The Creator gave you the ability to make a choice, and all you would be doing is exercising the free will that He gave you.”

  Squatinidale turned back toward the Ephesus amphitheater, unable to face Abaddon. “But wouldn’t that bring consequences from the Lord?”

  Squatinidale could feel Abaddon’s hot breath on the back of his neck. “That’s just it—there are no consequences. The great angel has already proven this by being the first being to exercise his will independent of the Creator. If he were in error, as you argue, wouldn’t the Creator have stopped him? Why would the Creator give you the ability to exercise your free will if it wasn’t meant to be exercised? We all know the Creator creates perfection, and He wouldn’t have created free will by mistake. Unless…you think the Creator made an error in judgment?”

  Squatinidale turned. “Abaddon, you know the Lord is perfect in all ways. To make a statement like that is preposterous.”

  “Exactly, my friend. Then why wouldn’t the Creator inform you of your free will and ability to travel where you desire? Did He just conveniently forget to tell you?”

  Abaddon had a point. One he clearly enjoyed making by the way he stepped back, with folded arms.

  Why didn’t the Creator inform him he could travel under his own power? Perhaps exercising a free will was not an act of defiance. But, how was this done? In addition, what about this super angel? Would it be an act of defiance to go meet this being? A small introduction would simply just satisfy his curiosity. If God did not want him to go, He would certainly stop him.

  Squatinidale sighed. “I’ll go meet this super angel—not because I think you are correct in everything you say, but because I want to prove you are wrong. You must be mistaken.”

  “Very well, then. I want you to be fully informed about such matters. Let’s go. I don�
��t want to miss his entrance.”

  Entrance? Squatinidale looked around. From where? “Okay. So, how do I move under my own spirit?” Squatinidale recalled a vision of the earth. “Flap my wings as the birds do in the material world?”

  “Take my hand and walk with me, my friend.”

  As Squatinidale took hold of Abaddon’s hand, a sense of uneasiness pricked him.

  “Now think of yourself. Focus on yourself and not the Creator. You are in control, you are capable, and you are righteous in what you are doing. You cannot do wrong in Heaven.”

  Squatinidale closed his eyes. His wings grew cold, starting at the tips and then moving down into his back. He lurched and then moved forward in a steady motion.

  The cold grew so intense. It burned. Even his wings, legs, and arms burned by this intrusion. Maybe he should stop. But how?

  Uneasiness washed over him and then developed into a sickening feeling that consumed his spirit. Yet, even as he traveled, he experienced a measure of freedom, power, and independence. Maybe he was making the right decision.

  As the two sojourned across Heaven, Squatinidale stared at the unfamiliar surroundings. Jagged outcroppings reached towards them as they passed deeper into other districts.

  As they descended into fields, Squatinidale gasped. “Abaddon, look. The amborlite stalks did not sway away. We are passing directly through their flowers like they’re…they’re vapor.”

  Abaddon shot a glance at him and smiled.

  Squatinidale placed his hand over his mouth.

  What had he done?

  * * *

  1 Ezekiel 1:4

  2 Luke 1:30

  3 Luke 1:28

  4 Ezekiel 10:9

  5 Ezekiel 1:18

  6 Ezekiel 1:7

  7 Ezekiel 1:11; (Revelation 4:8 states six wings)