Reluctant Demon (6 page)

The enraged angels were intent on making things worse and looking for a target. It wasn't going to be me. Earth would have to fend for itself.

God's favorite planet reeled at the violence of the war between the fallen angels. As the human body reacts by spontaneously ejecting an object that can bring about its destruction, so Earth reacted to the devastation the warring angels wreaked upon it.

Earth itself began to fight back, but things only got worse. In their fury, rage, and horror at God and at each other, the angels unleashed their devastating powers upon Earth, never mind they were about to destroy the only place left for us to exist. The angry angels tortured and ravaged every beautiful thing God had placed upon this planet. All that did not perish immediately became defiled, injured, and hostile.

It seemed as though Earth had lost its balance, as the seas boiled from the pollution of the raging angels. The waters were black and ominous and began to overtake the land as if trying to escape its domain. Finally, the dark water overtook and drowned every point of light and beauty on the injured planet. That was the first flood upon Earth. It was Lucifer's flood, caused by his wrath, and it destroyed all the wonder God had created on this delicate blue and green bauble.

Earth could take no more. It jolted and spun off its course. It reeled and retched until it expelled us completely. It was as if we had been vomited from the mouth of Earth into yet another realm far above its surface. I knew we were in danger of being forever flung into nothingness. I thought we should apologize to Earth, make up with it if you know what I mean.

"Look, this could work," I told the others as we hung temporarily suspended between the planet and oblivion.

"We can adapt and live sensibly upon Earth."

"And do what? Exist in the floodwaters? Nothing else is left," someone pointed out.

That's when Satan had his second bad idea.

"We will make our way back to heaven," he said as he began flapping his wings in an attempt to get traction.

"Why didn't we think of that?" came a facetious voice that could not be identified. "I'm sure God has gotten over the rebellion by now."

Futile as it was, we decided to try it. Everyone flapped for all he was worth. Some climbed on top of each other, as if getting tall enough would enable us to reach something. Satan climbed on top of everyone else, then he and some of the other strong ones were able to lift off and get a foothold into the kingdom of the air: second heaven. It was the same realm through which we had fallen when we were thrown out. It was not third heaven, mind you, or anything remotely close to it. It was dark and empty of all the glory that heaven is. It was a discarded part of eternity, but eternity nonetheless.

"This is close enough," Satan announced.

No one was going to argue. We knew if by some miracle we had made it all the way back to third heaven, the angelic guard would have been waiting for us, and who knew what might happen to us then?

That's how Satan's kingdom came to be established in second heaven. It was terrible. It was dank and cold. It would be some time before I learned that the awful smell was sulfa. Because God made all things, He must have made this place as well, but I couldn't imagine why. Since we had fallen through it when we were cast out, I knew it hung somewhere between third heaven and Earth. We had been able to climb from Earth to this place, so I wondered if there might be a back door leading to third heaven. I desperately searched for one but did not find it. An ironlike ceiling above and floor below contained this new abode. It had three closed sides like a cave and a ledge from which we could see Earth and the empti-ness of space.

That's when Satan decided he needed an army.

"What will he do with an army?" I said to myself.

"We lost the war in heaven, and we lost the fight with Earth. W h a t else is there?"

I suppose he was looking for something else to attack, so an army it was, and, of course, a pecking order had to be established. He assigned us our place according to our aspects, which are particular talents held by some and not others. I didn't know exactly what kind of assignment I would have, but I was pretty sure it would be out of everyone else's way.

Satan declared that we were now an army of demons whose purpose was to serve him. That's what we were now—demons. Don't ask me why. We had become more like a street gang than a heavenly host.

The strongest ones he divided into categories of powers, princes, thrones, and principalities. Satan stirred them up by telling them they would have their revenge and rule again over Earth in due time. I was assigned to be the watcher with no real authority over anything. My job was to watch Earth and report what I saw.

"Total waste of time," I would have told him if he'd asked me, which he didn't. Satan couldn't seem to get a grip on the fact that he had lost Earth. If he wanted me to watch it, then watch it I would. I found myself a rocky perch on the edge of second heaven, where I set up my post.

The first thing I noticed was that some who had fallen with us were unable to rise above the chaos to reach the kingdom of the air. Some were too weak. They were more like angel-ettes, created without the multidimensions given to the stronger angels. Their personalities were limited to only one aspect, which made them, more correctly, spirits, not angels.

The spirits were created by God to be rapid messengers to carry out His will in heaven. Each spirit had been fashioned with an aspect of the nature of the Lord. I don't know why they were on Earth at all. They were not equipped with the same personality complexities that would have allowed them to choose to follow anyone, especially Satan. But there they were: cast-offs of heaven and now trapped on Earth. My guess is they were cast out with the rest for the same reason as me. They were probably standing in the wrong place at the wrong moment and got swept up in the hullabaloo.

When in heaven, a spirit was a useful delivery system for God. They could be dispatched quickly from His throne to impart His aspect, something of the nature of the Lord, when and where it was needed in any part of the universe. These spirits were named according to their purpose. One was a spirit of peace; another, a spirit of joy; yet another was a spirit of love. They would race to and fro and carry the aspect of God's nature wherever a piece of God needed to be. Their purpose was good and noble.

In one way the spirits were like me: never intended for battle. Battered and beaten, they were trampled upon by the stronger demons in the hasty retreat from Earth. The spirits were sacrificed and used as shields, hostages, and steppingstones by the raging demonic angels.

I could see they were in terrible condition. Their aspects were damaged and distorted. The angel who had once been Peace became Fear. Love became Hate.

Joy became Despair. When they realized they had been abandoned on Earth, they panicked. By itself, a spirit with only one aspect would be at the mercy of any entity that could do more than one thing at a time. Left alone upon Earth they quickly learned they must cluster together to survive. Each groped about for another spirit with whom he could unite for protection, though against what I'm sure they did not know.

"We are cut off. We are cut off," they wailed as they realized there was no escape from the dank floodwaters suffocating Earth.

They sought one another out and clung to each other.

Rejection and Fear of Abandonment would stay together.

Envy, Greed, and Lust would hover together. Abuse, Anger, and Violence would enable one another. Shame, Self-Loathing, and Sexual Dysfunction would hide together in the shadows. They agonized, not knowing if they would remain in captivity to the angry sea or simply cease to exist. There was nowhere for them to hide, no vehicle, no habitation in which their aspects could function. They wailed and sank deep into the angry waters to which they had been abandoned.

They did not know a worse fate awaited them.

 CHAPTER 7

FROM MY PERCH
I was able to see the entire planet at one time. I had not fully realized the extent of the devastation, but now I could see how terrible it really was. It had been so beautiful and full of light and color before we arrived. But now, it was a catastrophe: dark, void, and empty, covered by Lucifer's flood; and nothing at all like it was when God made it. I wondered if He had the heart to look at what it had become.

The battered Earth was exhibit A in proving that Satan's rule did not include creating or preserving anything. The delicate blue planet in space was now nothing more than a swamp. Really, that is what it looked like. The whole place was little more than a cesspool where nothing but the formless spirits tried to hide. The dark waters churned savagely with the flailing about of the frantic phantoms fighting desperately to escape their watery prison. The dank and the dark covered the face of Earth. Nothing was left.

That is why I couldn't figure out Satan's continued obsession with it. Not a day passed when he didn't grill me about what was happening on Earth.

"Nothing is happening," I said. "Let me watch something else for a little while."

"No," he replied. "Let nothing escape your watch."

You know, you can look at swamp water for just so long before your mind starts to wander. Mine wandered off more than it should, especially when I would think about the unfairness of why I was condemned to such monotony in the first place. I wondered how I could go about appealing my sentence. Since no one was around, no one heard me calling to God and insisting that He review the evidence against me. He could have heard me if He wanted to. He sees and hears everything that happens in the universe, no matter how slight it might be. He didn't hear because He had dismissed me. I was a closed case as far as He was concerned.

The more tedious it became watching nothing happen on Earth, the more I forgot to watch at all. I spent my time thinking about my case and what I would say if I got a hearing in God's court. Fortunately, on that particular day I had collected my wits, was in possession of most of my mind, and was doing the job to which I been assigned: watching Earth do nothing. If I had as much as blinked an eyelash (which I really don't have), the whole thing would have escaped my notice. It was that fast. Something was happening in the water.

When I think how easily I could have missed it, I shudder at what the consequences would have been. It was so small, if I had looked away for a moment, I might not have seen it at all.

What I saw
happen
was in actuality what I saw
not
happening. There in the deepest part of the sea-turned-swamp, where the water had churned continuously for as many eons as I had been on guard, in a space no bigger than a clenched human fist, the water had stopped its relentless roil. It was perfectly calm.

"Now what do you suppose is causing that?" I asked myself. I stood as tall as I could on my perch and strained to see if there was something strange in the water—at least stranger than the frantic spirits I knew to be in there. How one understands "strange" is relative to his neighborhood. I blinked hard, then looked one more time.

There was no doubt about it. The calm spot began to ripple out and was growing in size at an alarming speed.

At the same time the center from where it began became clear. My thoughts were running in a dozen different directions. I was really sorry I had left them unbridled for so long. I tried to gather them in long enough to formulate a coherent response to a rapidly changing reality. All the while the mirrorlike phenomenon was spreading quickly over the enlarging calmness.

I wondered what I should do. Should I report it? How would I explain it?

"Lord Satan, I wish to report nothing happening in the center of the sea."

I would have to do better than that, so I strained to look more closely. I tried to remember the cleanup opera-tions I had seen, but I could not think of a single one that could cause those dank waters to become clear. The truth is, I could have flown out there for a better look, but I couldn't get myself going. There was something out there that caused what few remaining feathers I had to stand on end, and I couldn't do a thing with them.

At first it was hard to look, but then I could not look away. I knew I had to run or fly to tell one of the others what was happening, but I could get neither a foot nor a feather to cooperate. I flapped for all I was worth without going anywhere. Flying is not as easy as you might think, even for an angel. It requires a good deal of concentration. For example, if you only get one wing to flap, you can't really go anywhere, so you end up hopping around in a circle looking ridiculous. By now my concentration had shattered into little pieces, each locked on thousands of gently rolling waves, one after the other, full of clear water subduing the dark waters that had been there only moments before. The crashing anger of the sea was settling down as if it had become a gigantic pond.

"It cannot be. It cannot be." I must have said it to myself a dozen times. I gave up flapping and hopping and just stood there for a moment, completely mesmerized and undone by the miracle taking place before me and wondering how I was going to find the nerve to tell Satan that his nightmare had arrived.

Ruah Ha Kadosh was hovering over the waters of Earth.

CHAPTER 8

HUMANS HAVE NO
concept of true fear. I have watched and listened to you for centuries as you speak of being afraid, as if you understood the meaning of the word.

"I'm afraid of heights. I'm afraid of the dark. I'm afraid of sickness. I'm afraid of being alone."

Humanity in its entirety consists of whiners—always has. How is it you humans have never understood that what you call "fear" is a warning system that God set within you for your protection? You fear heights, and so you do not teeter recklessly on the edge of a high cliff.

You fear the dark, which experientially if no other way you must know is total nonsense. The dark is no match for the weakest human being. No matter the depth of the blackness, when a human appears with the smallest glimmer of light, do you people not see how the darkness flees?