Angelic Pathways (17 page)

While on a tour of Heaven with Archangel Gabriel, we were in human form and I was with him in a very busy metropolis that looks like something that would have made Gene Roddenberry faint with awe. As the angel guided me through the dense crowd, I saw two angels flanking a man who looked drawn and a bit unkempt. His complexion was grayish, his eyes were sunken, and in the midst of all the other incredibly happy souls, he stood out. The man walked slowly as he kept his head bowed low between his shoulders, almost chin to chest. There was an air of shame and hopeless resignation about him. It seemed as if he didn’t want to be seen, but the two angels flanking him held him gently by each arm and were encouraging him to look up, to look around.

“What is this?” I whispered to Gabriel as I stopped to examine the trio. Others who passed them by didn’t seem to notice. But many stopped to hug the man tightly or to pat him on the shoulder and offer words of encouragement. Despite the welcoming citizens, he didn’t seem affected. The dark cloud that hovered over him seemed oppressive.

“He’s being reacclimated. The angels are showing him where he’s supposed to be and that he’s welcomed, not scorned.” Gabriel responded quietly as he stood next to me.

“Why would he be scorned? This is Heaven.”

“He isn’t being scorned. He simply
believes
that he is.”

I looked up to the angel in confusion. “How is it someone can be unhappy in Heaven?”

Gabriel sighed heavily and glanced at his feet for a moment as I saw a wave of sadness flash across his cherub-like features. Then suddenly he spoke: “Follow me.”

In an instant we were somewhere that to this day still sends chills up my spine. Up until that moment, I’d only seen glimpses of Heaven, both the metropolis where the majority of people walk about in human form, and the metropolis where the majority of people move about in their spiritual forms. So far, everything I’d seen had been breathtakingly beautiful. Flawless. And there are no words to describe how incredibly awe-inspiring the Source itself is. But where we were now was the complete opposite of that.

We stood on a rocky cliff and looked across a dull, gray valley. There were dark storm clouds rolling overhead. Lightning streaked the sky and thunder shook the ground. Gabriel pointed in the distance, and I followed his gaze only to gasp at what I saw. I knew instantly at whom he was pointing.

Lucifer.

“Are we in Hell?” My voice shook as my fingers clutched Gabriel’s robes.

“No, though many would call it that.”

Gabriel went on to explain to me that this was the place where souls that weren’t ready to rejoin the main population came. Burdened with grief, guilt, anger, or vengeance—among other things—souls meandered about in tattered clothing. They cried out and tore at their hair. They even fought each other, but to my shock, angels intervened. It was then that I realized there were no demons here, no grotesque, disfigured remnants of what used to be angels. And Lucifer …

Lucifer is Archangel Michael’s twin. But you could definitely tell the difference in their demeanor. Archangel Michael was bright, always smiling, always playing around and offering words of encouragement. This twin stood upon a cliff in dark, menacing armor with his arms folded and a scowl on his face.

“He’s not tormenting anyone?” I whispered to Gabriel.

“That’s not his job. These souls torment themselves. He is merely the keeper of this place.” Gabriel spoke without the disdain I imagined an archangel would have for the one who allegedly betrayed God. Key word here: “allegedly.”

It turns out that Michael and Lucifer are twin brothers, the firstborn of the Source, with two very different views of the human soul. Michael believes in humanity and that the human soul can evolve with the right nurturing. Lucifer found the human soul to be corrupt and wanted the first of them to return to the Source. In other words, he wanted them destroyed. There was no huge battle in Heaven. No one defected. At most there were philosophical debates until one young angel came along who would fight for the human souls to remain a part of Heaven. You can read about him in appendix B.

Every angel has his delegated task, and since Lucifer has little to no love for humans, he was appointed to the realm where the most tormented of souls go until they heal. And that’s why there were angels there, not demons. The angels walk among the souls to soothe them and try to help them remember who they are. In essence, these souls came out of their human reality carrying with them great burdens that keep them
feeling
human, that keep them stuck in their dreams. All in all, these are the sleepwalkers, and with tender nurturing, patience, and care, they will eventually awaken and return to the main populace.

So how does Lucifer fit into the whole world of archangels? He doesn’t. He wanted nothing to do with humans and had no desire to interact with them in their dreams and illusions. And so here he remains in this purgatory of sorts, watching with a keen eye and allowing no one to leave until he feels they can rejoin the citizenry of Heaven.

If that’s the case, then why is he, Satan, and the Devil so feared and so dominant in religion? Well, we humans bring with us some subconscious memories from the spiritual world, and the world of torment is associated with the energy signature of Lucifer. It’s our way of trying to remind ourselves to let go of our hate, guilt, and other destructive emotions before we go home. For if we fail to do so, that’s where we wind up. Not because we sinned—because sin doesn’t exist—but because of the feelings we may carry over for having committed a perceived sin or some heinous act that was part of God’s plan from the very beginning.

In my first book,
Azrael Loves Chocolate, Michael’s A Jock,
I wrote that Archangel Uriel has to be one ticked-off archangel to have been demoted to fallen angel by some monk at one point. But now, I sort of see why that monk may have done that. Uriel has little love for human souls as well, but it wasn’t until I saw Lucifer that I realized Uriel must at least have a little hope for us. After all, he’s an archangel that’s sent to walk by our side, even as he longs for Armageddon. And he is also a very capable teacher, although a bit harsh. The point is, Uriel is at least approachable by human souls. Lucifer, however, is an angel we’d just best avoid. He’s in a perpetually foul mood and wants as little to do with the human soul as possible.

Now at this point, some of you may wonder if Judas or Hitler is there trying to avoid the angel’s icy glare. Perhaps Nero and Torquemada are sharing a cave somewhere near.

Historical figures that have embodied unfathomable darkness and caused near cataclysmic destruction, the likes of Hitler, were never the incarnation of human souls to begin with. There are beings who are appointed such tasks because no human soul would ever be able to carry out such despicable deeds.

It Always Comes Down to God’s Great Equation

So, is this to say that Hitler was written into God’s Plan? As much as it galls me to say it, yes. And so was slavery, oppression of the Native Americans, the bombing of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, and the destruction of the World Trade Center.

It’s all or nothing here. Either God is all-powerful and all-knowing and thus sees everything that is to come in this reality, or he isn’t and human life is completely left up to chance.

I choose to believe in a God that is all-powerful and all-knowing.

Some may say that God is cruel for besetting upon humanity such nightmares. To that I wag my finger and say, “Not true.” We knew before we came here what we were stepping into. My African ancestors knew before they were born the struggle that slavery would bring to them. My Cherokee and Blackfoot ancestors knew that their unblemished lands would be stolen. My French ancestors knew they would have to endure one of the bloodiest revolutions in human history. Everyone knows upon the crafting of their life script just exactly what is going to happen to them: what they’ll be born into, what challenges they must endure, what crises they must survive, and how they will ultimately depart this life—or, as they say in Heaven, wake up from the dream.

I must be emphatic when I say that we as human souls know and understand the peace and perfection that is the Realm of Spirit, which is why we’re not fazed when we walk into disasters like the Great Flood, the bubonic plague, and even Armageddon.

We
know, even if our avatars don’t.

And this is what vexes many of the angels.

Archangel Michael told me that you can always tell when a world is about to be deleted and rebooted, as it were. He said that the population for that realm increases exponentially because everyone wants tickets to the huge event.

“Everyone gathers to watch the fireworks,” the usually jovial angel chuckled tensely. “It just makes our jobs as archangels even more difficult. We don’t enjoy watching the destruction of a realm, and we certainly don’t enjoy being the harbingers of it. No matter how many times a world is destroyed and rebuilt, it’s never easy.”

Perhaps the Master General is speaking only for himself and a few other angels. There is one angel I’m aware of, however, that is so stoked for Armageddon, I’m surprised he’s not standing before the Throne of God every hour going, “Is it now, Lord? How about now? Now? Soon, though, right?”

That would be the angel of the Apocalypse, Archangel Uriel. God creates a world; Uriel goes in with a flame thrower and shuts down the entire operation once it’s run its course. And for an archangel whose purpose is also to guide us humans, he does his demolition job with an eerie sense of relish. I know from firsthand experience that Uriel really has little hope in the evolution of the human soul, but he does have hope nonetheless—more than Lucifer. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t be standing over my shoulder right now. Granted, he’s coiling his fiery whip over a tight fist and muttering, “Any day now,” but should any of us require his keen wisdom or profound philosophical tutelage, he won’t balk at the request.

To Uriel’s glee, yes, the day will come. This world will end and we’ll all be on the other side, clambering over each other to see what new and exciting world God has given us to play with. Like actors in a television drama, there are the good guys, the bad guys, and the poor schmucks that get caught in the crossfire. But once the cameras stop rolling and the lights shut down, we can all put our arms around each other, smile, and flip a coin for who’s going to spring for dinner afterwards.

We’re more than just flesh, bone, and blood. Like our Creator, we are eternal and glorious beings. There is no end to us. There is no end to what can be our eternal happiness. Sure, there are those intermittent moments when we decide to enter a human world for kicks, but in the grander scheme of it all, we know we’re just playing pretend. We’re like children hopping from one ride to the next at an amusement park. Some rides are cheery and fun, while others put so much fear into you, you’re praying to God the entire time. But once your feet are back on solid ground and you look back at that big, scary ride, you realize it wasn’t that bad. In fact, you could take it on again and not wet your pants this time.

This is the practice we receive as human souls. These are the lessons we endure in a quest for the supreme understanding of who we are as children of the Creator and siblings of his most beloved archangels.

[contents]

chapter five

CONTINUING
THE JOURNEY

It’s July 2012 and the Midwest is caught in a brutal heat wave. As I sit here praying the city’s power holds up against the millions of air-conditioning units running overtime, I can’t help but think back on the days spent in that dark, cluttered room that would reach 103 degrees even if it was only 80 degrees outside. Even if I ventured out of the room to sit in the claustrophobic hallway, the humidity would still have me clutching for dear life to my asthma inhaler and wondering if my congestive heart failure would finally decide to take me away from the hell that was that house.

The memories are still fresh. The wounds are still seeping.

About two years prior, even after I had published two books, I had come to the conclusion that I couldn’t take anymore. With the failing economy, the only place I could take this broken body was onto the streets. I’d been on housing lists for years. I’d contacted every charity in Michigan, charities around the country, even charities outside the United States. I spoke to every social worker imaginable, and they just continued to transfer me to departments that were of no use or to phone numbers no longer in service.

The truth was I was stuck without friends or family, penniless and disabled, with only a computer and a will to write and somehow help others from slipping through the same cracks I had. Still, there was a part of me that felt that regardless of whatever spin anyone puts on the state of our country, or the state of the world as a whole, and no matter what a person’s religious or political affiliation is, no one cares about the poor and suffering. And if they care, they don’t have the answers. And if they have the answers, they don’t have the wherewithal to bring to fruition their ideas. Of course, there are exceptions to that rule, but I feel they are few and far between.

For me, options had run out. I was tired of being in constant pain. I was tired of eating food that I knew was killing me. (I’d finally saved up enough to buy an electric skillet so I could at least eat hot meals, but they were all cheap, processed foods loaded with fat and sodium and God knows what else.) I was tired of being confined to my upstairs prison, of not seeing the moon or the stars, of not feeling a cool summer breeze or smelling the autumn rain. I was tired of knowing that if I died, it’d take about a week before anyone realized it, even though there was someone always in the house.