Angels of Humility: A Novel

by Jackie Macgirvin

  The idea of being healed and the revelation that George had accepted the Lord elevated Sarah’s spirits, even though her body continued to be uncooperative. She was only going to the jail twice a week now. It was just too laborious to make the trip. On the days that she couldn’t go, she prayed for all the inmates and looked forward to the next trip.

  The next day, armed with her cookies and her walker, Sarah went out visiting prisoners. When the most responsive inmates heard her walker squeaking from around the corner, they began crying out, “Momma Sarah, Momma Sarah. Did you bring me cookies?” It always lifted her spirit no matter how tired her body was from the increased effort it took to get there.

  As she made her cookie rounds this day, one of the inmates, an older prisoner nicknamed Skinner, wanted to speak to her. He let down his macho demeanor and confided that he was having recurrent nightmares that terrified him. “I even stayed awake last night ‘cause I couldn’t face ‘em again. When I sleep, this black, snake-like, evil thing comes to me and flashes all the bad stuff I ever done in front of me, startin’ when I was a little kid. It’s like a movie. It goes really fast in front of my eyes. While it’s playing, this thing is laughin’ this sick laugh. When it’s done it makes fun of me by sayin’ stuff like, ‘See all the evil in your life? You belong to me. I’m waitin’ for you. You can’t escape. Why don’t you kill yourself and we’ll go easy on you?’ Then I wake up and I’m sweatin’ and my heart is poundin’. I need help, bad.”

  Sarah knew it was demonic and that the first step was salvation. “You might not believe this, Skinner, but I think you have a demon that torments you. And that demon is right about one thing. At this point the devil owns your soul for eternity because of all the bad things you’ve done.” Skinner dropped his eyes in shame. “But the great news is that God loves you so much that He provided a way to save you from the enemy.” Joel and Malta watched Sarah, both of them beaming like proud parents. “You see, the Bible says that all have sinned and fallen short of God’s requirements.5 We all belonged to Satan’s kingdom. But God sent Jesus to pay for our sins. If we believe that He died for us, our sins are all forgiven. Then He even gives us His goodness as a gift. When we die and we stand before God, our sin is forgiven and all He sees is righteousness, so He lets us into Heaven. It’s like God looks at us through “Jesus-colored glasses” from here on out. And it’s all a gift; you can’t earn it, and you can’t undo it. Have you heard the verse John 3:16?”

  “Yeah, everyone knows that. Learned it as a kid.”

  “Can you say it?”

  “Sure. ‘For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten son that whosoever believes on Him will not perish but have everlasting life.’ Hey, that’s exactly what you just told me.”

  “Right. Would you like to pray now to accept Jesus?” Sarah was trying not to let her voice quaver, but she was gripped with equal parts of anticipation that Skinner would say yes and apprehension that he would say no. After a moment’s hesitation, he nodded yes.

  Sarah realized she’d been holding her breath and slowly exhaled. “OK, repeat after me. ‘Dear Jesus, thank You for dying on the cross for my sins. I ask You to come into my heart and be my savior and forgive me of my sins. I give my life to you to do with what You will. Amen.’”

  Skinner finished praying, and Sarah was the one crying. “Now Skinner, God isn’t keeping track of your wrongs any more. He’s keeping track of Jesus’ rights. Do you understand?” Skinner nodded his head.

  “Cast out the spirit, Sarah,” said Malta. “Your faith cripples the enemy’s power.” A spirit of Boldness, which she had never felt before, came over Sarah. “By the power of the blood of Jesus, I command you evil spirit to leave, now.”

  Joel and Malta watched as a large warrior angel appeared behind Skinner. Stunned by Sarah’s prayers, the demon Suicide that was coiled around Skinner’s torso and neck, fell to the floor. The angel brought his sandaled foot down on the serpent’s throat, pulled a silver knife from his sheath and sliced off its head. It howled mournfully and disappeared, leaving a black puff of putrid smoke.

  The three angels rejoiced together. “Remember the first time we saw Sarah?” asked Joel. That same foul spirit was about to take her life. She was totally in its clutches. Now she’s in authority over it. She sent it fleeing!”

  “Hallelujah,” shouted Malta.

  “Now I don’t think you’ll have problems anymore with that dream, Skinner,” said Sarah. “But if you do, you just tell your little tormentor that those are no longer your sins. God is not holding them against you.6 They’ve all been forgiven, and you are owned by no one but Jesus,” said Sarah as she leaned forward to give Skinner a big hug through the bars. “You may be incarcerated, but for the first time in your life, you are truly free.”

  Skinner’s angel began to sing a hymn he had heard as a youngster in church. Without even realizing it, Skinner hummed along.

  Sarah left the jail that day feeling great. It was the first time that she’d ever led someone to the Lord. She and her angels sang and praised all the way home, allowing her to temporarily forget her physical infirmities.

  Later that night while she was sitting on the couch, Malta played the flute and led Sarah into a time of intercession for the inmates and Pastor Paul. Oh God I’m so grieved that there’s no chaplain at the jail to disciple the inmates, no one to hold services or a Bible study. How will they grow and mature? Lord, please touch Pastor Paul’s heart. Have mercy on him in his disobedience. Please don’t hold his sin against him, but put his feet on the right path. Lord, deal with whatever attitudes prevent him from doing Your will. How will Will get saved if Pastor Paul’s not there ministering? Lord, unless You heal me, I won’t be able to go there much longer. She travailed in prayer for an hour and a half. She was too drained to make the slow journey to her bed so she spent the night curled under the alpaca blanket on the couch.

  The ringing phone woke her the next morning. Her back was stiff from sleeping on the couch, which slowed her movement even more. She picked up the phone on what was going to be the last ring. It was Barbara’s cheery voice on the other end. “How are you doing today?”

  The Lord had spoken to Barbara, telling her to help Sarah more. Barbara was glad to oblige. She could feel the Lord’s pleasure over these acts of kindness. The Lord is jealous for the well-being of the widows and orphans,7 Barbara thought. She enjoyed tending her garden and her flowers, but there was never anything pressing on her schedule. Barbara’s time was totally her own, and she was happy to lavish it on Sarah.

  Later in the week Barbara drove Sarah to the neurologist in Mt. Pielor. After the exam Dr. Schumacher floored Sarah by suggesting it might be time to think of leaving her home. “We don’t want you to fall and hurt yourself. It’s not good for you to live alone. Have you considered the Manor?”

  When the conversation ended, Sarah was staying in her home by herself, but would compromise. She agreed to wear a special necklace; if she needed assistance she would merely press the button on the necklace to summon immediate help. At the end of the visit, Dr. Schumacher looked sternly at Barbara, “Sometime in the next few weeks, I want you to take her by the Manor just to look around. Do you understand”? Barbara nodded.

  The ride home was somber. “Why isn’t the Lord healing me?”

  “I don’t know. I just know that He has His own perfect timing. Don’t give up and lose faith. Remember, faith precedes everything God does for us. Without faith it’s impossible to please Him. And you must believe that He rewards those who diligently seek Him.”8

  “I was sure I’d be healed by now. The book I read says it’s God’s will to heal everyone—that’s in the Bible. He healed them all.”9

  After a long pause, Barbara said sadly, “I don’t have any easy answers, but I promise to keep praying for the Lord to touch you.”

  I must not have enough faith, Sarah thought. How do I increase my faith? She remembered the Bible says that faith comes from what is heard t
hrough God’s Word.10

  Maybe I’ll read my Bible more and increase my faith that way.

  Sarah was a woman with a mission, spending all her spare time in the Word. However, her health didn’t improve. What can I do to show the Lord that I have faith? I just need a mustard seed’s worth. Sarah decided that she would stop taking her medicine. That will prove that I have faith. If I didn’t believe I would be healed, I certainly wouldn’t do that. She skipped her bedtime dose of her Parkinson’s medicines. In the middle of the night, she woke up and tried to turn over in bed. She couldn’t roll over! A wave of panic and adrenalin swept through her as she struggled. It feels like my legs are made of cement! She didn’t know what to do except pray. After praying for 30 minutes with no results, she reluctantly admitted she needed help. She was too embarrassed to press the button on her necklace. They would send the police or firemen or an ambulance, and the sirens would wake up the whole neighborhood. They’d probably cart me off to the hospital and tell me to go to the nursing home. She finally decided that she would call Barbara. She reached for the nightstand. It was 3:30 a.m. when Barbara groped for her phone.

  “Hello.”

  “Barbara, I’m so sorry to wake you—”

  “Sarah, are you all right? Did you fall?”

  “No, I didn’t fall and I’m embarrassed to call you, but I need your help. Can you come to my house and get me some medicine?”

  “I’ll be right there. Are you hurt? Are you sure you’re OK?”

  “I’ll explain it when you get here.”

  An embarrassed Sarah explained it all, and Barbara gave her the missed dose of her medicines. “I still think we should call the doctor.”

  “I’m not waking anyone else up. I’m adamant about that. I’ll call in the morning if I haven’t improved.”

  In spite of Sarah’s protests, Barbara spent the night on the couch. In the morning Sarah’s mobility was back to “normal.” Barbara had the coffee made when Sarah woke. Sarah was very embarrassed and apologetic, although Barbara threw the whole thing off as nothing. But she did extract a promise from Sarah to always take all her medicine.

  “I had no idea how bad I was without my medicines. I thought I was bad when I was taking them. I just missed one dose and my legs quit working.”

  Sarah was tearing up and Barbara looked at the floor. She felt impotent. She felt worse than impotent; she felt responsible. She was the one who gave Sarah the book on healing.

  Barbara crawled into bed that night with a heavy heart. She silently prayed, God, You’re going to heal Sarah, aren’t You?

  The next morning Barbara pulled into Sarah’s drive at 10 a.m. sharp. Sarah was waiting on the porch swing. Barbara helped her down the front steps and into the car. They drove in silence for several minutes. “I’m sorry we have to do this,” said Barbara. “But it’s doctor’s orders. It’s just good to have a back-up plan.” She turned the car into Bradbury Manor, the town’s nursing home, parked, and came around to help Sarah up. Sarah never went anywhere without her walker now.

  Later that night in her bed, Sarah wept. She hadn’t told anyone, but her tremors had gotten so bad she’d had to change her eating habits. Eating with silverware was too difficult now. Soup or salad was out of the question. Sandwiches, apples, bananas, a muffin, anything big she could pick up with both hands was all she could manage. If she filled a glass more than half full, the beverage sloshed over the side. She would put a glass on the table and drink with a straw so she didn’t have to hold it and splash the liquid down the front of her blouse.

  The spirit of Fear invaded her room and tormented her with images of the most infirm, helpless patients—half conscious, unable to hold their heads up, drooling out of the sides of their mouths. She could even smell the stench of urine that had assaulted her as she shuffled down the hall with Barbara.

  “Jesus, Jesus, please help me.” She wept until she fell asleep.

  The next morning, she called the local handyman, Herald Ray, to make her home safer. He moved her washer and dryer from the basement to the pantry, between the kitchen and the back porch. She also had him install grab bars in the bathtub and bring the rest of the boxes upstairs. Now there was no need to go down those basement stairs, ever. I can stay in the house longer. What do doctors know, anyway?

  She also spent time the next ten days sorting through her closets, under her bed, and through her dressers. Then she called the local charity to come cart it away. It felt good to unclutter her house, and she didn’t want to be a burden to anyone when she passed on.

  CHAPTER 27

  “The moment humility announces herself she is already out the door.”

  Walter Buettler1

  “He that is down need fear no fall.”

  John Bunyan2

  “Three men were taking a tour of the White House,” said Pastor Paul to the congregation. “It turned out that all three of them were contractors. ‘This must be my lucky day,’ replied the guide. ‘The security door that the president uses is broken. Maybe you can all bid it for me.’ The contractor from Missouri took some measurements and said, ‘I can fix it for $400. That’s $200 for parts and $200 for labor.’ The contractor from California examined the door and said, ‘I can fix it for $500. That’s $250 for parts and $250 for labor.’ The contractor from New York said, ‘I can fix it for $2,400.’

  ‘Twenty four hundred dollars? That’s outrageous. You didn’t even measure it. How do you get $2,400?’ asked the incredulous tour guide.

  ‘A thousand for you, a thousand for me, and we hire the guy from Missouri.’”

  Paul loved their laughter almost more than anything. It was like the congregation was saying he was just one of them; he fit right in.

  “I have a very exciting reason to be talking about contractors today. The elders and I have been discussing the rapid growth going on in our fellowship, and we are proposing that the church begin a fundraising drive in preparation to buy land and build larger facilities projected for completion in two years. This plan has been divided into very attainable smaller goals, and we won’t go on to another until we reach the one directly in front of us.”

  Paul spent the whole time that morning explaining the details and extolling the virtues of the plan. After the service, the feedback was mixed. A lot of the members, mostly the newer or younger ones, were very excited about the church being taken to the next level. Then came the, “We’ve-never-done-it-this-way-before,” group who would fight any change as if their lives depended on it. They rallied informally to do just that, with Wilma leading the deadly phone brigade under the influence of several destructive spirits intent on breeding division.

  Paul wasn’t aware of them as his family ate lunch, however. He was still high on the idea of bigger, better, and more prestigious, even as the phone network snaked through the older members of the congregation. Wilma picked up the phone and Ardare said to her: “They sharpen their tongues like swords and aim their bitter words like arrows. They shoot from ambush at the innocent, attacking suddenly and fearlessly. They encourage each other to do evil and plan how to set their traps in secret.’”3

  “No, No,” shrieked Gossip, “this young pastor just gets voted in, and he has the audacity to make plans to abandon your church and build a new one, who knows where. This is the church where you’ve grown up, Wilma. You were married in this church, and all your kids were baptized here. If Paul thinks he can just close it down and build another one just because of some vote of the elders—well you just can’t let that happen! It’s your responsibility to do something.”

  From her comfy recliner, Wilma rallied the troops and formed a battle plan, much to Ardare’s dismay.

  Bernice thought they should all make their voices known by withholding their tithes, and Carol proposed a petition they could circulate. Wilma felt maybe the group who wanted to build should leave with Pastor Paul and go build. The rest of them could stay right where they were and find a pastor who thought more like they did. Then every
one could be happy.

  Although Sarah hadn’t been there since that first Wednesday prayer meeting, her name was on the list of older adults. Later in the week, when the phone tree got more organized, she received a call from someone she couldn’t even remember.

  “Sarah, my name is Katherine Plumb, and I’m helping with the committee against the building campaign at the Victory Church.” Sarah felt her heart skip a beat at the mention of the church’s name.

  “You go there, don’t you?” Rather than explain the “unique” circumstances, Sarah just said, “It’s my church.” She was immediately hit with a barrage of gossip organized into a plan to squash the new building campaign.

  “Pastor Paul wants to start a building campaign for the church?” asked Sarah.

  “Yes, and if successful, we would be forced to leave our beloved church and move to a new facility, who knows where?”

  “Well, that’s not good,” said Sarah, thinking of Paul’s forward drive with the church when he was supposed to be gravitating toward the jail.

  “Good, I’m glad we can count on your support. Now, here’s what we’re asking: withhold your tithe, sign the petition that Carol is circulating, and boycott Thursday visitation. If we didn’t keep getting so many new members, we wouldn’t be outgrowing our facilities. These are our first efforts. If they don’t work, you can be sure we’ll try something else.” Before Sarah could think what to say, Katherine concluded, “Thanks for your support; look for Carol; she’ll be set up in the Sunday school room with the petitions. Bye.”

  Sarah was stunned by the divisiveness and evil that she felt from the plan to usurp the building campaign. At the same time, she knew that Pastor Paul was not supposed to be pursuing a secure future at this church. Both sides are wrong. I guess two wrongs will never make a right.