A man who’d served as a missionary until retirement died last week. He was in his ninth decade.
He’d been spry and living a full life until that fateful morning. He traveled and continued to enjoy a bit of ministry. When he didn't come downstairs for his usual breakfast, his wife climbed the steps to check on him.
“Just don’t feel much like getting out of bed right now.” He replied to her question about his status.
“Okay, I’ll bring a tray to you.”
She brought breakfast, and while he ate, he pointed to the corner of the room. “Who is that man, and what does he want?”
His wife saw no one and ignored the question. She reasoned that since he wasn’t on medications, he must have awakened from a dream about a man. After all, throughout his life, he’d talked to many men about the Lord.
“Thanks honey. That was a good meal. If you don’t mind, I’ll take a little nap and then get up.”
His wife came to see about him as he woke up.
“Who is that man? What does he want?” He asked the same question.
“I don’t know. Why don’t you ask him?”
Following his wife’s instructions, the old missionary did so.
“What did he say?” His wife wanted to know as she gazed at the blank space where her husband stared.
“He wants me to come with him.”
The man later died that day.
Angels exist. God allows us to see them.
Maybe they appear to take us to heaven. Or warn us about danger. Maybe they bring comfort or messages.
I enjoy writing about fictional angels. My books contain a mixture of fantasy and theology, but my creations can never compare to stories about the visitations of real life spirits. In the next few weeks, I'll share more of these true experiences.