Angel of Light

Angel of Light

I don’t know how much more I can take, I thought. I can’t wait for this to be over.          

I leaned over my bedridden father as I buttoned his pajama top. My drab brown hair hung in his face but I knew it didn’t bother him. Ever since his stroke, he couldn't feel much of anything.

His dressing complete, I stood back and observed my father’s emaciated frame lying paralyzed on crisp sheets. Thanks to the stroke, Dad suffered from incontinence. In all of my twenty-three years, I would never have guessed I would spend the best years of my life cleaning up my father’s filth. I grabbed his soiled linens and dropped them in my washer, disgusted. Times like this, I wished I had enough money to hire a nurse so I could be free from a life of servitude. Of course, I never had such luck.

I headed into my tiny kitchen to prepare lunch. While heating Dad’s soup, my cell phone rang. I answered the call even though there wasn’t a name on the caller I.D.

“Hello, Chrystal.”

The man's smooth, slinky voice gave me pause. I could hear a melodious tone to his speech, almost like a lullaby.

“Who is this?” 

“I’m the Angel of Light but you can call me Angel.”

I chuckled skeptically as I fixed my father’s food.

“‘Angel of Light’? You’re kidding?”

“Not at all. I know it’s not as popular as ‘Daniel’ or ‘Joseph’ but it suits me fine.”

"Alright then, you mind telling me how you got this number? Why would an 'Angel' need to call me?”

Angel snickered, making me weak in the knees. Goodness, I thought, when's the last time that’s happened?

“Well,” Angel began, his tone enticing, “Technically, I'm not an angel. I'm a mere messenger. God has spoken to me and commanded I contact you. He's given me a word to deliver.”

I stood still with a pan of hot soup on the stove in front of me. Without a doubt, this guy was a few beers short of a six pack. God told him to call me? Not likely.

"I can see you're a bit apprehensive,” Angel said after silence lingered on the line. “But I assure you, I’m the real deal. God has given me a message for you. Well, it's more like a gift for diligence."

I finally found my voice. “Okay, so let me get this straight: God told you to call me so he could give me a present? When did the Almighty turn into Santa Claus?”

“He’s far from Santa. Can jolly ole St. Nick grant you the freedom you’ve been craving? No, he can’t. So take a seat and listen carefully.”

“Wait, how did you know-?”

“I know lots of things,” he interrupted. “I know you hate serving as your father’s nurse. I know you lack money. I even know you’re standing in your humble kitchen sweating over your dad’s hot soup.”

Either Angel was a stalker or he really had been led by God to find  me. I could think of no other explanation as to how he knew about my stagnant, unsatisfying life. I didn’t speak to many people. I hardly left my house. So, I did the only thing I could think of: I sat.

“Now,” Angel began, “I’ve called you because God recognizes your selflessness in caring for your ailing father. He's decided now is your time for a blessing."

I frowned. “Why would God give me a blessing? I’m nobody. I have no friends. No life. I seldom go to church. Why am I so special?”

“God heard your cries for a new life, Chrystal, one you can make for yourself. He’s granted me His favor, and I’m here to pass that favor onto you.”

“God wants to give me His favor?” I asked, my voice a harsh whisper.

“Yes, He does. Think about it. With the favor of God you wouldn’t be burdened with an invalid. You could travel, get a makeover. You'll have enough money and freedom to become the woman you’ve always wanted to be. All you have to do is say ‘yes’ and everything will change. Will you say ‘yes’?”

I sat at my kitchen table, my heart thumping hard against my chest. Just ten minutes ago, I longed for a way out of my miserable life. Now an Angel was offering me the very desire of my heart. To be free. To be someone special. I could barely keep my hands from shaking with excitement as I blurted “yes”.

“Good girl. You’ve made a wise decision. Since your father won’t need his soup, I suggest you grab a Bible and look up 2 Corinthians 11:14. It'll explain everything."

Click.

Angel's abrupt disconnect left me confused as I stared at my phone. He said my father won’t need his soup. Did that mean…?

I didn’t want to waste time hunting for my long lost Bible. I Googled the scripture Angel told me to read.

No wonder, for even Satan disguises himself as an angel of light.

I sat quietly at my kitchen table for what felt like hours as I finally understood the weight of my decision. My “Angel” made me an offer I couldn’t refuse but I never thought to ask about the fine print. Now it was too late.