Light of Darkness Read online

  “Gabriel, remain calm. We received a handful of petition requests just a bit ago from several Earth Dwellers, did we not?”

  In the blink of an eye, Gabriel was at the feet of the throne. “Chief, Your Highness, at Your request, I shall remain calm. And yes, we did.” Gabriel answered attentively.

  “And what were the contents? What were the Earth Dwellers asking for?”

  “Well, Your Majesty, there are quite a few, but I have categorized them as best I could.” Gabriel pulled out a handful of papers and began thumbing through them. “We had several health-specific requests, some urgent, some not. We have several Earth Dwellers needing to pay their bills and the rent, some others seeking Your help who are facing various financial challenges, like sudden eviction. There were a few asking for the deaths of those they hate, which I personally would not respond to, as I assume they may have confused this address for Your adversaries. Then, there are several others asking for some type of sign to prove that You are real, most of whom, if I may add, You have already granted such signs to before.”

  “That’s it?” the Commander asked. “Anything else?”

  Gabriel thumbed through the papers, throwing them to the ground, searching ardently for something that would put his Commander at ease. He froze as he looked over the last sheet.

  “There is one more, Chief. A very specific one that could not be categorized.”

  “Well, what is it? What is the Earth Dweller requesting?”

  “This request is of a different kind. The Earth Dweller is eagerly seeking You, and it seems his heart is content in simply knowing more about You, understanding Your ways, Your nature, and Your character,” Gabriel said.

  “He didn’t ask for healing?”

  “No, Commander. He didn’t ask for healing.”

  “He didn’t ask for money?”

  “No, Chief, he didn’t ask for wealth or prosperity, either.”

  “Very nice. Well, what is it? What is he wanting?”

  “He is requesting that he be shown the things and events that will happen in the future. His request is very specific, I might add.”

  “Ah, he is asking to know My will for the Earth.”

  “Yes, it appears so, Chief.”

  “Very good.” The Commander’s demeanor changed in that moment to one of delightedness. “Lucifer, I believe we have found your accommodation,” the Chief said, smiling. “Prepare yourself and your minions to go down to earth, you weasel.”

  Chapter 2

  Earth

  —

  December 9, 2019

  The time is of great importance. It is December 9, 2019, a day that will remain etched upon the pages of my mind as long as the cords of memory and time will lengthen. Quietly, I sit in my upstairs office, my desk neatly perched carefully against the wall. I breathe deeply, exhaling slowly and turning my head so that I might get a good view from my window into the warm and vibrant evening sky. The light from the neighbor’s brick columns adjacent to my house has just flickered on, illuminating its soft and elegant beauty that punctures straight through the encroaching darkness around it. It is in this quiet moment that I am reminded of this thought: Light is to darkness what love is to fear; in the presence of one, the other disappears. As I ponder this thought, my right hand remains delicately draped upon my desk, and my fingers dribble up and down so carefully as I revel at the world beyond me. Shortly after, I see a tiny, speckled cat scamper across the empty street—frightened by the sudden sound of a barking dog just off into the distance.

  Let me explain why I am writing this, and more importantly, why I am here.

  You see, it is the eve of a very important birthday, my birthday, and at this particular moment, I have found myself in a deep and confounding rut of sorts, wondering what steps lie ahead in the winding staircase of my life. Perhaps, you, the reader, have at some point experienced such a feeling. Perhaps, like me, you have found yourself at one time or another alone at the doorstep of utter silence contemplating what paths may lie ahead.

  The questions are likely similar. What possibilities of life lie before me? What will the remaining pages of my life contain? Will it be a wonderful work of drama or a timeless allegory? Will it be a warning or foreshadowing for others? Will it be a story of triumphant achievement and victory? Perseverance and overcoming?

  Perhaps, it may be all these things; or perhaps, it may be none. Perhaps, there will be conquest; perhaps, there will be defeat. Perhaps, there will be tears of joy; perhaps, some tears of sorrow. Perhaps, there will be some right; perhaps, there will be some wrong. Will it be a perfect candle shining atop a hill or one that was quickly diffused into the ground? Infamy or honor? Esteem or disfavor?

  At this moment, I am desiring a small glimpse into the depths of my future. I am salivating for some understanding of what the world will be, what my life will be, and what will eventually be and become of my earthly destiny. It’s possible you have thought such thoughts yourself; in fact, I am confident and know that in this regard, I am not alone.

  Over time, I have realized that I cannot blame anyone else or any other thing for the world that I live in, and along those same lines, I am well aware of the failures and shortcomings I have accumulated over the years. In this world and in this universe, I have come to see every human being as an intricate piece of the whole and each man’s part in the unfolding drama as having utmost importance. Like a giant puzzle, at this particular moment in time, we can safely say that all of us and our pieces fit into this big world house and find our existence in this residence in our own unique way.

  But just as it may be that we’ll have a part to play in piecing together this giant puzzle, it is abundantly clear we sometimes cannot find where a particular piece or two fits into the grand scheme of the finished product as a whole. That is where I find myself on this day. That is where, I believe, the world finds itself in this season. Not a small number go around, day after day, attempting to piece together why exactly they have been placed here, for they ask such questions like these: “Who am I?” “Why am I here?” “Where did I come from?” And, “How important am I and my fellow man?”

  It seems that in this time, on this eve as I pen these words, the world has been caught up in a web of disarray and finds itself incurable—trouble running rampant in the land with confusion all around. There is darkness before us, and even deeper darkness rooted within us. A futile sense of nothingness seems to be clouding the skies of our personal world and our corporate world as well. This darkness has gripped men and women with unparalleled fears, sending them spiraling down the long corridor of crippling hopelessness and despair. And yet, I’ve heard it said that light is to darkness what love is to fear; in the presence of one, the other disappears.

  With that in mind, as I sit here, I find myself thinking intensely on the following possibility: Suppose I could think any thought or dream any dream that my heart so earnestly desires. Suppose I could use that ability to see into the future 5, 10, or perhaps even 50 years from now. Suppose I could ask any question and get any answer regarding the future and the destiny of every being and every creature that graces every crevice and sphere of this world. A secret, perhaps, to help those currently living and those who will one day inhabit planet Earth live a life free from the oppression and the hopelessness that has seemingly come to torture and torment so many in our days.

  Let me stop supposing for just a second and again resettle toward the present truth. The truth of the matter is, like so many others, I have tried and tried, searching for answers via the readily available avenues of my day. The so-called “big names” and even those considered the “world’s influential” don’t seem to have them. A long look at the who’s who in society will only assist in affirming this assessment. Yes, I’ve looked high, and I’ve looked low. I’ve looked near, and I’ve looked far. But no man thus far has been able to paint a sufficient picture of what the future of this world will hold and how I and others must prepare for it. Things
are changing around us at warp-like speed. If one simply turns on the television and skims the evening news, he will soon find that even these so-called “experts” are completely and absolutely delusional of what challenges or triumphs lie ahead. Thus, all of us find ourselves on a dangerous roller coaster ride, one spiraling out of control into utter darkness, propelling us passengers into many thousands of different directions, bringing about an awareness that soon the end may near, but yet we’re so out of control that we simply hold on for dear life. But yet, even yet, light is to darkness what love is to fear; in the presence of one, the other disappears.

  In this moment of reflection, something wonderful has begun to happen. As I sit here alone, my mind suddenly begins to slow down, to ease.

  You see, this aloneness affords no sound, and all I find in my possession, the only weapons at my disposal, are my thoughts. In the preceding years, if I have learned a thing, it is that in times of confusion and chaos, my life demands such silence. This time is one of those times. I have come to believe that it is my Father’s way of whispering, “Son, it’s time to get away.” So, like a little child, I obey, going off to be alone to tap into the benefits of such solitude, void of all distraction of sorts. With me is no television, no phone, no music, nothing. And then, with time, the mental war ends, and the mind begins to quiet. I am left with the steady sound of my thoughts, my greatest weapons.

  Let us return again to supposing. A few ticks pass, and I proceed to talk to my Father, taking my questions to Him regarding the future, the next 5, 10, 50 years, inquiring as to what exactly it might hold. I gently inquire as to how I and others might assemble for it. After all, He created it, so surely He has within Him the answer. In my whisper, I am, in reality, begging for direction, just to hear a simple voice, an assurance, no matter how quiet that assurance might be.

  An hour quickly passes, then two. I hear nothing, and so I continue peering out my window, watching the small feline prance its way across my yard. It’s crazy, isn’t it, talking to this Person I call Father. It seems to be an act of faith to even attempt to raise one’s voice and to focus one’s complete thought and attention on a Being that one cannot physically see, in hopes of hearing an answer in whatever form that might be. But when one is in need of answers, answers mere humans cannot provide, what else can one do?

  There was once a collection of teachings penned by a 17th-century monk, where the central theme of his message was the development of the awareness of the presence of the Father in one’s everyday life. The brother, observing nature in the winter, at one time saw a tree stripped of its leaves and considered that within a little time, the leaves would be renewed, and after that, flowers and fruit would appear. Through this observation, he received a high view of the providence and power of the Father, which deeply impacted his soul for the remainder of his earthly life.

  In reflecting on this writing, I had made it a point over the preceding weeks to seek to develop this keen sense of the Father in my own life and throughout all my dealings. One of the spiritual maxims presented to assist in developing just that is the faithful practice of the Father’s presence. This directs one to keep his gaze entirely fixed on Him in faith—calmly, humbly, and lovingly, without allowing the appearance of anxious thoughts or emotions. It was a great undertaking in a world of constant busyness and distraction, but one that I felt was very much necessary, especially as I hoped to receive the guidance I so desperately longed for to assist in the focus and aim of my life as a whole. In essence, as I understand it, this maxim demands extended periods of silence in order to redirect and fix one’s gaze on Him, and Him alone.

  I would be dishonest if I told you this practice and this season had not been full of a few sleepless nights, many unanswered questions and a flood of doubts and fears. On this particular evening, unsure of how to proceed out of this stillness, supposition, and constant whispering to the Father, I again focus my attention on the desk and work before me and pull from my drawer a pen and sheet of paper. I begin to write out a letter with a list of questions that I would love for my Father to answer. I write as if the Father Himself were coming by to inquire of it that evening. I write freely but specifically until my stamina is diminished, my fingers are weak, and I can write no more. The entire process takes just shy of an hour from start to finish. Then, after a brief review, I carefully fold the document and place it directly in my drawer, handing it off to the Father in an act of simple faith. I had never done so with such great intention in the past before.

  As you may have guessed, and to my disappointment, nothing particularly special happened that evening—or so I thought. It wasn’t until a later occurrence, one I still cannot explain, took place early the morning of December 31, 2019, three weeks after I had penned that detailed letter, that I saw the significance of that night unfold. I recall the morning very clearly, for it had been another rather sleepless night, the third in a row to be exact, and I was disgruntled once again about the lack of clarity on the world and the direction of my future. This was exacerbated by the fact that in just a few hours’ time, I would be celebrating the ringing of the new year, the new decade. Honesty again compels me to admit that I had forgotten about the details of the suppositions I had penned in the letter on the evening of that day, for I had not looked at it nor spoken of it since.

  *

  * *

  Now, before I continue further, let me pause for just a moment. I am asking that you read what follows very carefully, for to my knowledge, there has never been another who has had any such encounter. I would urge that you do not dismiss what is to follow as some sort of farce or extreme absurdity. I ask that you only consider it thoroughly with very careful and vigilant eyes.

  Shall you agree? Yes? Let us now proceed.

  At about 1:30 in the morning of the 31st, I heard an unceasing pounding on my door as I was finally dozing off to rest. As I sat up in my bed and listened, attempting to assure myself that I was not, in fact, dreaming, the pounding became louder and louder until finally, I was forced to lift myself from my position, put on my robe and slippers, and proceed to the entrance of my home. Turning on the porch light and looking through the peep, I saw a little tiny man with a clipboard standing just a few feet away. Behind him was a goliath of a man, whose head nearly touched the ceiling of my porch. This man could have been no shorter than about seven feet tall. He had on brown slacks and a blue knee-length coat.

  I carefully opened the door slightly and inquired of both men. The short and stocky man standing in the front answered simply, “I have been sent by my Adversary as a response to your suppositions.”

  I asked the man plainly, “Who is your Adversary?”

  At that, the man gave a quick and terse response, stating, “The One who governs the light.”

  The giant of a man behind him looked directly down at him and then up at me, nodding in approval. As he said this, the stocky man pointed to each of the various light fixtures in the neighborhood, from my night post to the light poles that lined the street neighborhood.

  As the man was pointing, turning his head and hand in the direction of the night, I took a quick glance at his uniform—he wore a jet-black polo and kept a tiny pen fastened in his ear. His face was smooth and soft, graced with baby-like features. There appeared, at surface level, to be an innocence about him that made him seem somewhat shy. Before he turned to me again, I was able to glance at the tag on his shirt that I assumed bore the man’s name. The name tag read simply, “Mr. ‘Asbeel’ Prince.”

  Asbeel, I immediately pondered to myself; however, I held my face calm as the man turned to me again.

  “I see,” I said to him, my eyes squinting, shaking my head in agreement. I began to probe for more. “This Man that governs the light… what suppositions did He receive from me that He has sent you to respond to at such a late hour as this?”

  The short, stocky man by the name of Asbeel lifted his clipboard, flipped through a number of pages, and removed a sheet with
several bullet points scribbled down upon them. He handed me the text, and I looked it over as he stood there, watching me in the night.

  Indeed, the questions he had written were the questions I had been pondering and wrestling with personally for some time and then penned on the eve of my birthday, but they were nothing I had told to another. Yet even my name, number, and address were carefully inked on the paper.

  I took my eyes again out to the street, this time to attempt to locate the stocky man’s vehicle. Parked about a hundred feet down the road sat a small van, and on its side, it read in simple letters, “Prince of the Air.”

  “Is that your vehicle?” I asked. The stocky man nodded.

  I looked at both the round little fellow and the goliath of a man behind him. My rational senses poured over me, and I quickly returned to consciousness. “It’s 1:30 in the morning. Could you please come back tomorrow? I’d be happy to accommodate you then,” I politely asked.

  The man’s face suddenly soured. “Unfortunately, I cannot,” he said. “I have other business to attend to. Business, I might add, that will be affecting the entire globe.”

  Suspicious of what he meant and finding the statement somewhat strange, I looked the man over one last time. I began to move my cellular device from my pocket, deciding to call the local authorities for assistance, for I sensed a hint of deception, craftiness even, in the man’s voice. Just as I did this, the hulking man behind him calmly stepped forward, moving the stocky man aside.

  “Sir,” he began. He immediately held out his hand, fingers stretched, cocked at an angle. I looked at it for a moment and then extended my own in return.

  The moment our hands embraced, I felt a surge of power flow through me that I cannot describe. It felt as if a bolt of electricity had begun coursing through my veins, going down into my spine and simmering in my legs. At that moment, it strangely felt as if my body were receiving a recharging of some sort, as if my limbs had been plugged into some type of electrical outlet for the first time in a long time. Indeed, I began feeling things I had not felt in many years—an immensely strong and calming sense of peace and assurance, combined with exceptional power and strength. The anxiety and fear that had been haunting my days over the past several weeks quickly began to subside as I held the man’s hand. I continued gripping it for some time. Both he and I said nothing.