Twenty Tales: Dreams from an Angel

By Clayton M Jennings

What if you were visited by an angel What if that angel told you twenty tales that would inevitably change your life There are angels all around us, watching as our lives unfold one story at a time.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Mar 30, 2011
• ISBN: 9781257262649

Book preview

His.

Prologue: Twenty Tales – Dreams from an Angel

Tears filled my eyes as I looked down upon the illuminated city from the tallest mountain. The rocky peak had been my resting place for nearly a month. In a moment of crisis I found myself desperate for answers. Away from the city I ran with nothing in hand but the clothes on my back. I crawled up the steep terrain with no regard for that of which I was leaving behind. I kept thinking I needed to get higher and higher and therefore closer to the heavens above if I were to survive this crushing weight. With raw hands and weak legs I climbed past trees and boulders, rocks and rivers, until I reached the summit which I had so desperately longed to find. With the wind on my back and the world far below me, I fell to my knees.

And so it was, and so it went, and so it continued, for nearly thirty days, when at the end of myself and near the point of death from thirst and starvation, in the middle of the night, I was visited by an angel.

Behind me came a sound stranger than anything I had heard before. It was as if ten thousand monstrous birds were flapping their wings all at once. The wind that had rushed from the city below, up the mountain, and over the ledge was suddenly reversed. I grabbed the massive rock beneath me, trying to hold on with every ounce of strength I could muster to keep from being blown off the face of the cliff. Behind me the winds swept and the skies roared. It howled as it ripped past before descending onto the city. A thud on the mountaintop behind me caused the earth below to quake and shutter. The sounds were suddenly gone. The wind had stopped. I uncovered my face from my shoulder and slowly pulled myself off the face of the rock. Ever so slowly I turned around. There before me stood a creature, a giant, an angel. Twenty feet tall with legs as thick as oak trees it stood, with its wings stretched wide into the far distances. It was the most beautiful and terrifying thing I'd ever seen. I watched in silent awe as it stared at my feeble body with eyes as red as the sun.

What is it you want with me? I asked in terror.

That you may choose the right path, the angel said with a voice that rivaled earth's thunder.

What paths must I choose from? I asked as I began to cower away from the beast.

I will tell you twenty tales, and after they have been told to you, a choice must be made.

But how will I know which choice to make?

Every man must decide his own fate. A sleep will come over you, and in that sleep twenty tales you will dream. And when you awake, you must decide where you stand. Twenty tales, for these are dreams from an angel, it said as it suddenly spread its wings before quickly forcing them shut again with one giant stroke, sending the giant fifty feet into the air off the peak of the mountain in an instant while nearly blowing me away with the winds from its enormous wings. I watched it as far as I could until into the black sky, it vanished above.

My eyes became heavy, my breathing slowed, and in an instant I was fast asleep, drifting away into the first of twenty tales.

1. Mansions for Martyrs

Not a sound could be heard throughout the sanctuary as the church goers prayed silently in rows of wooden pews. Some gripped the scriptures as they bowed their heads in reverence to a living God. The rusty lights that hung from the ceiling were poised at a dim exposure, casting shadows in the midst of the weathered cathedral. Hands could be seen lifted above some who prayed while others kept them folded in their laps. Inside there was a hush that overtook the crowd. All that could be heard was the pelting rain drops falling from clouds thousands of feet above the small cathedral in Michigan.

The creaking of an old chipped pew rang out as a seventy year old man stood to his feet in the front row. His limbs shook and twitched as he made his way to the platform. He was a handsome man for his age. Thick gray hair sat combed back on his aging head. He stood tall in height but short in pride. There was a humbleness about him that spoke its own language as he moved up the four steps to the stage. He walked slowly towards a hand crafted hefty pulpit that rested on the center of the platform. In his hands he held an old Bible. Its pages were worn and its cover was torn. Inside it sat a written treasure in which the people that gathered there that day placed their hope. As he put the Bible on the pulpit he stopped and looked out over the crowd that sat before him. Tears swelled in his eyes as he beheld the beauty of God's people.

We are standing on the precipice of eternal life, his voice was deep and raspy. All nine hundred who sat before him looked towards the elderly man who now addressed them like he had for countless years.

This is not our home. This world of fleeting fame, unjustified cruelty, rape and murder, greed and guilt, flesh and foes, demons and devils, is not our home. No one in the room uttered a word. They sat in awe of the words that were being spoken. There was a peace that began to spread over the uneasy crowd.

We do not dream of worldly possessions. For those who have set their sights on Jesus, have gained new vision. A new vision that has drawn them to the light while fading the affairs of this globe until it is nothing but a fragment of shadows, dancing in the background as they move closer towards an everlasting light, he paused briefly and wiped the tears from his eyes with a navy blue handkerchief that he pulled from inside his suit pocket.

Right now, we are standing on the precipice of that everlasting light. Sniffles could be heard echoing across the auditorium as those in the pews considered the weight of the moment.

We worship a mighty God that formed the world with the uttering of the spoken word. He formed the universe and riddled it with glorious stars. From the dust of the land we were created, and from the breath of the Almighty we were given life. The same God that spoke the world into existence, the same God that formed man from the dirt of the plains, the same God that protected Noah and watched over Abraham, the same God that raised David to positions of power, the same God that abolished death and hung on a cross for the transgressions of man, that God, that very same God, is here with us now. Echoes of amen broke out throughout the sanctuary.

He is moving in our midst with love in His heart and vengeance in his intentions for those who plan harm. With the might of ten thousand angels we gather here today not to panic, not to fret, not to worry, agonize, or weep. We gather here today to worship the true and living God that promises to lead us beside still waters and walk with us through valleys of death. Our lives are His. We will not go quietly into the night. We will not break. We will not fold. We refuse to stop worshiping the God of countless generations with love in our souls and fire in our hearts. He did not deny us, and we will not deny Him. A boldness was beginning to mount in the people. They hung on his every word. They had grown to love the man who now stood before them. He was their pastor and their shepherd. They spent Sunday mornings soaking in sermons delivered from the same man who was now speaking to them on a Tuesday night. He was beginning to appear frail in his old age, but the voice that bellowed from his aging body never sounded so strong.

Jesus tells us that they will hate us, for they hated Him. This day has been a long time coming. It began in the rejection of God in our schools and playgrounds. It spread in our nation's teachings of tolerance and acceptance. It moved from town to town, city to city, and state to state. The hand of God's blessings was slowly slipping away with every promotion of sin and seduction in this nation's society. We let them into our homes through technology that influenced and manipulated people into accepting what they were told instead of thinking for themselves. The truth is, it was only a matter of time before this day would arrive. He shook his head ever so slowly as he gripped the Bible in front of him. Lifting it above his head, he began to speak once more.

The storms have arrived. The winds are blowing and the wolves are howling. They have come to destroy what is good and righteous, BUT THEY WILL NEVER DESTROY THE GLORY OF JEHOVAH JIREH! The crowd burst into applause as the preacher held his Bible over his head. One man stood to his feet with hands raised high, another followed, and so on and so forth until the entire congregation was standing with hands held high to the heavens.

The pastor waited until the applause died off before he began to speak again. I want you to know, he began as he lowered his Bible back onto the pulpit, that I love every one of you. The tears were beginning to flow down the old man's cheeks as he spoke. Thoughts of years of fellowship and investment in the lives of the people in front of him weighed heavy on his heart.

We will stand in the halls of martyred heroes and the glories of heaven will be our reward. May we never forget the God who called us, saved us, and secured our eternal resting place. Peace be with us all, and if this cup may pass from us then we pray God take it away. Amen. Sniffles and weeping now drowned out the pitter pattering of the rain on the rooftop.

An elderly man who sat in a wheelchair in the back of the auditorium began to sing out loud. A smile spread across his face while he sang the words of a famous hymn with eyes closed.

Turn…your eyes…upon Jesus, he sang loudly. By the time he started the second line of the song, half of the congregation had joined in. And before long, over nine hundred people were singing with one voice, Turn your eyes upon Jesus / Look full in His wonderful face / And the things of earth will grow strangely dim / In the light of His glory and grace. The crowd sang the hymn over and over while holding hands across the sanctuary in each pew. Tears fell to the ground like the rain drops that fell on the rooftop. It was a glimpse of things to come. In many ways, perhaps it was a small picture of what the glories of Heaven would be for those who stood there that day. They were worshiping their God as brothers and sisters with one common purpose in their hearts; glorifying the God who promised to sustain them. The quarrels and bickering that had plagued the church for years were now seemingly gone. It had been replaced with the reality of eternal significance and the brevity of life. They sang and they cried and just as the things of earth were truly growing dim in their eyes, suddenly a crashing in of the church doors brought them spiraling back to the earth beneath their feet.

The Constitution of the United States had been amended the week before. Many thought the day would never come in which the First Amendment of the Bill of Rights would be altered, but nevertheless, the day had arrived. It began with Congress passing bills that addressed hate speech. The Congressman and Senators who wanted to pass this legislation promised their constituents that these bills would punish those who spoke vulgar things about other races and ways of living. Americans quickly realized that the bills went much further than what they had been told. Radio hosts, preachers and priests, CEO's, journalists, broadcasters, authors, and even ordinary citizens accused of speaking negative things towards other people were taken to court and sentenced. When the Christian community began to speak out against the law, the government used the media to portray the Christians as the ones who had caused the entire debacle. They put out ads that showed preachers and Christian protestors spewing hateful words. The ads went on to say that if it hadn't been for these Christians, the law would never have been instated in the first place. This feeling of animosity began to grow across the country, and before long, there was a public outcry to rid the land of all those who practiced Christianity. Although there was never an official amendment that changed the First Amendment, the writing was on the wall for all to see. The ability to practice free speech, and the government's duty of respecting an establishment of religion had been abolished. And on a certain Monday afternoon, the President signed a law that was set to be put into action the very next day. The day had finally come in which the blessing of God's hand was entirely removed from the shores of what once was a great nation.

GET DOWN! GET DOWN! men dressed in military uniforms yelled as they rushed into the sanctuary with weapons drawn. Screams pierced the evening sky as mothers grabbed their children and ducked behind pews.

Mayhem and panic erupted as the men swept through the pews striking any who stood with the end of their rifles. A few men in the congregation tried to fight back, but were quickly shot to death in front of all to see. Within a few quick minutes they had surrounded the sanctuary. Families huddled together while ducking behind the pews.

Behind the pulpit there stood a familiar figure. Wrinkles on his face told a story of their own. They spoke of years of preaching the Word of God. The bags beneath his eyes showed the aging of a man who spent many sleepless nights praying for those in his flock. His calloused hands spoke of years of plowing the fields and working the harvest. The pulpit in which he stood behind was the very same pulpit in which he had spent his entire life preaching the truths of God. The words he had said, the sermons he had preached, and the lessons he had taught would now be put to the test as the hounds of Hell pressed in from every direction.

A short staff sergeant with a tiny build and a scrawny face walked up the steps of the platform. He held no weapons in his hands, only a pad of paper and a pen instead. There was a look of deviance in the man's eyes. A feeling of close proximity to evil rushed over the preacher's shoulders, causing his neck hair to stand on end.

What is your name? the small man said with an arrogant tone to his voice and his head held high.

I am a follower of Jesus Christ.

I don't remember asking you what you are, rather I asked you who you are, said the man flippantly.

I am the pastor of this church and a follower of Jesus Christ, said the preacher calmly as he looked at the soldier.

Maybe you're not hearing me clearly old man, I said, WHAT IS YOUR NAME?! Shrieks echoed in the sanctuary at the man's yelling.

I am the pastor of this church and a follower of-

SILENCE YOU FOOL! the soldier interrupted. He slugged the preacher in the head, knocking him back against his pulpit. More shrieks broke out in the room. A few of the men in the auditorium flinched as if they were considering trying to help the preacher. The number of soldiers with aimed rifles caused them all to reconsider.

Very well, the soldier said with a malicious smile. Bring her to me! he ordered a soldier just off the edge of the stage. He was pointing at a little girl crouched behind the second row. The soldier rushed over and grabbed her by her arm. Her mother screamed but another solider pushed her back down as she watched her daughter being taken away towards the stage. The soldier lifted her up on the platform for the staff sergeant.

One last time old man, what is your name? he questioned. The preacher looked at the little girl standing before him. He remembered going to the hospital the day she was born. A flashback to when he baptized her parents ran through his mind. The soldier pulled a pistol from his holster and held it to the little girl's head.

Tyler Torrey, the preacher said without thinking twice. The soldier smiled and pushed the little girl back towards the edge of the stage where another soldier carried her back to her mom. Her mother wept as she held her daughter tightly.

Tyler Torrey, now we are getting somewhere, the soldier said as he flipped through the pad of paper in his hands, Thought you could hide a thousand people did you? Pastor Torrey stood without saying a word.

Should have found a better hiding spot I'd say, the man said shaking his head.

We aren't hiding, a man said from a couple of rows back.

SHUT UP! a soldier yelled at him.

Not hiding huh? Well you're all more foolish than I expected, said the staff sergeant. Nevertheless, you now have a decision to make. He motioned for one of the soldiers to hand him a piece of paper. From it he began to read, "Under the new federal law, effective immediately, all those found participating in acts of Christianity in the United States shall hereby be imprisoned indefinitely.

Those who resist arrest shall be executed. Those who denounce the name of Jesus Christ and thereby swear to uphold the Constitution over personal beliefs shall hereby be freed. He folded up the piece of parchment and tucked it into his camouflage pants. Those of you who choose freedom over incarceration must head for the side exit right now. There you will be recorded as denouncing your God. You will also sign a legal document swearing by the penalty of death to uphold your oath to the government."

There was a brief pause, and then a stirring began in the crowd. Nearly a third of the people in the church stood to their feet and shuffled their way out of the pews. The others whispered things to them trying to get them to change their minds, but nearly all kept walking. They hurried towards the exit where they would turn their backs on the One they had trusted for salvation. The old man in the wheelchair watched as one of the elders in the church joined the line heading for the exit. The elder made eye contact with the old man but quickly looked away in shame.

May God have mercy on your soul, the old man whispered to him. The elder didn't respond. The dishonor he felt caused his face to swell with redness.

The pastor stood their watching from the platform as those who had chosen to betray their Lord made their way towards the exit. Tears filled his eyes.

Their fate is brighter than yours old man, the staff sergeant said spitefully.

The flames of Hell will be bright indeed, the preacher replied.

The elder who had joined the line that made its way out of the church held his head low as he took his last step out of the church's doorway and into the storms of the world. Bright spotlights blinded him as he stumbled into the person in front of him while shielding his eyes from the brilliant rays. Military trucks were parked behind giant field lights that shown down on the people. One by one, each person stepped into a trailer. After a minute or two, they would reemerge with worldly freedom, having given away their eternal. Rain drops were bombarding the face of the elder who stood in line squinting. With each footstep that brought him closer to the trailer's door a panic swelled inside of him. Matthew 7:23 came to his mind. He pictured himself standing before God at the edge of heaven or hell. The thought of hearing the Lord say, Depart from me, I never knew you, caused such an anxiety inside of him that he began to shake violently. The anxiety began to morph into a boldness; a boldness that gave no regard to what mortal man could do to him, for he feared the God of ages instead, a God that promised to deny those who deny Him.

I will never deny my Savior, he whispered to himself. The lady in front of him turned around to look at him.

I will never deny my Savior, he said a little louder. His eyes were wide like that of a crazed man.

There was a total abandonment in his figure. His fists gradually began to tighten, squeezing drops of rain until they soaked into his palms.

I will never deny my Savior… I will never deny my Savior… I WILL NEVER... DENY MY SAVIOR…I WILL NEVER DENY MY SAVIORRRRR!!!! he screamed into the falling rain. A soldier ordered him to be silent as he approached the elder. His chest was swelling and contracting like an accordion. He looked at the soldier with a sideways glance that caused the young private to stop in his tracks. The elder turned around