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Chapter 1

The LITTLE ANGEL

The Little Angel at Work, or is it Play ?

There could be no doubt, the angel thought, that he was an angel. But take that 'he' - it was well known that there is no gender in angels, as Christ declared. What am I to call myself ? The fact was that he was left alone rather a lot, as many of the older angels had strenuous duties ministering to the heirs of salvation, and he was but young. But young ? How could he be young, when creation was long past ? Well there were angel groupings and some just were created first, or lived faster or whatever it was. It was pellucidly clear that in the sense of inexperience, comparative incompetence, unsophistication, he was like a child.

The others were always so nice; but he was not one of them in any sense of equality of action; and there did not seem at the present time to be many others 'young' like him. So he thought; for that was something he COULD do, think.

I would like, he said, thinking of Ezekiel 1 - for even littlest angels know a lot about the Bible - to go in straight lines, to have 'straight feet', as in verse 6. He envisaged movement in little jagged bits, if he wanted to go  around a corner, so that it would be a succession of mini-straight lines. Difficult, but appealing.

He tried it, and just as he was making the millioneth straight line in the process of turning a curve while going straight, a senior angel saw him, and laughed uproariously.

What is the joke ? asked the little angel. It is you, misunderstanding straight for geometrical straightness. It is not the failure to make a curve - the curve can be aesthetically breath-taking in its complex symphonies of movement as you can see from the birds below - which is to be congratulated. It is the failure to turn aside from the straight path of right, of duty and of godliness, of obedience and faith with all intelligence and wit, imagination and depth at work for the glory of God: it is this which matters.

Oh! said the little angel, crest-fallen inside, for outside he did not have a crest. If you speak so crisply as that to me, or laugh so loud, is that straight then ?

Oh dear me, said the senior angel, whose name by the way was Angelique, for although there was no gender, there was a sense of the beauty of words, you are confused. Let me help you!

You see, sometimes straight-talking is the kindest, since it leads you out of misunderstanding fastest, and so makes for the ultimate in soft landings after that. If the person is very sensitive, pathologically so, you cannot do this; but then, you are a healthy young tough, for an  angel, and can take something a little better than ego-massage. Besides, that is to use disease to cure it, and so counter-productive, as if disease could become part of the family, which is slumming it.

Can I though ? responded the little angel. I am not so sure. See my feelings, here, under my wings - for he was translucent - do you not notice that these are ruffled ?

Only a little, said Angelique, and in any case, who wants stasis ? a little movement, a little thrust, a little action can be  stimulating.

How right you are! said the little angel, who had not yet thought of a name for himself;  for even as you speak, I can see under your wings that you are being kind. It must be wonderful to know so much ? how do you fit it all in ?

But Angelique could see that the little angel was having his own little joke, and said no more.

When he left, the little angel thought some more, for there was nothing to stop thought there. He decided that if being straight was not just a geometrical matter of going in straight lines around a curve, then he could for all that talk straight to people. Was this the meaning of Ezekiel 1:17 ?

Seeing an older angel labouring hard in a deep work which made the appearance under the arms very troubled looking, he asked, If you are working so hard, why do you not ask me to help you ? I am very willing.

He would not normally have dared to be so bold, but feeling that perhaps the essence of straight feet, of doing things more directly, he dared to assert himself in a good cause, as it seemed to him.

You! said the older angel, do not as yet even understand the type of labour which I am  doing, for in front of  me is the soul of a university professor, and he is intent on confusing himself so that he will not have to face the Lord, and I am injecting thoughts of sanity which keep on annoying him,  so that in desperation he is thinking that perhaps he had better seek the truth after all. But for this, you have to know his subject, which I happen to do, so it is quite an exacting task; but it is well intended, and to be sure, I trust it will prove worth while in the end. You know, I tell you straight, you have to have patience!

You do not just go into his mind with any old thought that occurs to you, either, but have to prepare the way so that he will listen.

Really! said the little angel, then is it not best always to be direct ?

To be direct ? Why, if down on earth, where I minister, to fish directly would mean putting a hook into the fish's mouth; although you would not get so close. No, you have to have indirect methods quite often. You will notice in Ezekiel 1:17 that there is the parallel reference to not turning aside ? The purpose is clear and you do not waiver from it, when you know the Lord; but the achievement of it may require patient returns and persistence, as when the waves come into the shore, and come now further, now less, but overall move onward, with no fear or futility; yet with no reckless haste.

Then how can I have straight feet ? asked the little angel.

By doing what you have to do without interfering motives, needless lapses of intervening time and without lack of zeal, so that your thoughts wander, or even lack of trust, so that your spirit goes around in curves and gets nowhere.

The Little Angel, in capitals now, since he had decided if everyone knew so much more than he did, this would be a good name, thanked the older angel, whose name was Fraternal, and considered further.

If he was not old or experienced or wise or knowledgeable enough to do things, then how else could he go straight ?

He decided that if he always went in the same direction, that would be straight, even if he moved tenuously this way or that, the point being the resultant line of motion, and the comparative directness. Thus he went along, not too precise in straight lines, but with one overall directional  notation, and doing so, he came to a place or space which he had never visited before.

Giant forms were everywhere, and he glittered about as was his way, so attracting attention. What are you doing here, little angel ? asked an angel so experienced that if he had had a beard, it might have been fully three feet long; but since these appurtenances were not in vogue, he merely had eyes so deep that when you looked into them, they seemed to reveal great distances, as if you would travel far to reach the heart of the land of his spirit.

When he had shaken off his momentary pre-occupation with this fact, the Little Angel declared, I don't know really; I am trying to have a uni-directional motif in my life, and this is how I came to be here; for it is clear that geometry is not the sort of straightness which is to be desired as I grow, nor is directness of manner, though it is often a good thing, but rather a movement on a given line.

A given line, eh ? mused the very senior angel, whose name was VESA, as an acronym. Well, there is something to that, you know, but there is one point you may perhaps just have overlooked. What do you think ? You see, it is fine to GET SOMEWHERE, and to grow in knowledge, experience and depth as you do, but there is one aspect you must line up in the midst of your thoughts. It is must be the RIGHT somewhere!

Yes, I suppose so, said the Little Angel; but it is good to have met you, VESA, for your eyes seem so deep that one could almost drown in them, and it is almost like going on a journey, just to look at you in this way; and thank you for letting me.

You see, said VESA, you have come a long way, even by stopping still! for straightness is not only a matter of physical motion at all, but of getting where truth is, depth and wisdom. Go straight for that and you will make no mistake, no, no mistake at all.

The gleeful cheer of Vesa was infectious, and the Little Angel laughed himself, this time, quite as uproariously as had the earlier mentor. It is good to be with you, Vesa, he said; and could you teach me how to find out more about going straight.

I could! said Vesa, but it is very good for little angels to think thoughts, so for a little while you must think about the meaning of things; and then, when your mind has appetite and form, you can ask more, and appreciate and even relish it. We'll meet again, I am sure of that. Then Vesa disappeared in the midst of very deep work, which meant he was too far away to be seen.

The Little Angel, whom now we shall call Little A, for short, because Angie sounds like 'mange' to some, and the A is more of an aspiring sort of letter, then pondered long. If straight is good, and it is not merely geometrical in shape, or even a matter of moving in a unidirectional sort of way, but deals with purposes, and that sort of thing, and going far but in the right direction, where distance itself is not the point, but the sort of penetration you get, what is it into which you have to penetrate, and does it matter in which direction you penetrate ?

He decided that beauty had a lot to do with it, since the eyes of Vesa were beautiful, and there was a light of understanding there which made him smile, just a little, and be happy, a little, and want to be good, quite a lot; and it seemed to introduce him to something mysterious and grand and wonderful, so he decided that really, all he had to do was to go and speak to God in a direct manner, for He would not be offended ... but then, he realised that he had interrupted himself when he was about to look at beauty and straightness, and wanted to talk to God about this after he had done it. So he postponed that, and tried to grow by understanding.

He looked about, travelling in a unidirectional sort of way, here and there, until the environment was exceedingly beautiful, with harmonious colours, deftly drawn clouds and wonderful waves of brightness scintillating without having a worrisome surge, or a disquieting electric feeling; and he wondered what made beauty beautiful. It was partly the deftness of it all, partly the harmony of it, partly the line, the brilliance, the contrasts and the compositions, but above all the meaning. What did beauty mean ? It meant that there was an essence of wonder in creation that he could relate to; but of what is it an essence ? he asked himself.

Again, his thoughts turned to God, but he decided to wait till he had understood more, in case he felt just a little precocious in going so soon. Thus he realised that there is in beauty a sense of goodness, of kindness, and patience, and control without marching orders ... straightness ? It came to him again. Is beauty straight ? It is most moving, but not so ethereal as to lose reality, or yet so real as to lose a certain visionary quality ... of what ?

There is, he gauged, as he gazed into the beauty which moved in glorious orbits and ambits and with gorgeous changes that still meant the same thing, only put differently, a certain wisdom in this. It is saying that there is a peace which is deep, and a meaning which is exquisite, and that it is a combination of goodness and mercy, lovingkindness and goodwill, with aesthetic nobility and desire to lead into what is eternally valuable.

But who values it ?

It is of course God, he told himself; and small wonder, for who would want hate, when love was there, if the love was in truth and the kindness was elemental and the creativity was unchanneled by small resources that crimped its effulgence or coarsened its construction,  or by tidy little constraints, and who would want a lie when the truth was so glorious.

Beauty and truth, he then realised are as close as sun and moon, in this, that both give light; and they go together; and peace seemed to want to introduce itself, declaring to his mind that there is peace where understanding and beauty go together in truth, and love moves like a liquid perfume cascading down from the heights.

Yet beauty, he thought, it is not straight, for there is blending and movement like a flock of birds, ascending, descending with a volatility short of dance, but more than mere brimming motion; and yet it is ... what word is to be used, asked the poor Little A ? It is a flow of love in motion, that conveys itself with an alliance of form, for kindness, movement, for interest, complexity for depth, and simplicity for strength ... It is a declaration of dependence, on the part of a mobile creation, with the light of God's countenance fastened on it, informing its forms and shaping its situation until they become awesome emissions of the beauty of His heart, the strength of His love, to bother to do it for us, and the wisdom and wit of His mind. What is more, in all its movement, it is still in meaning, shrouding brilliance into a meeting place.

It is time I went to God, to ask Him about being straight! the Little A decided.

However, there seemed to be ever so many more things to do first; and he wondered if the Lord would be better pleased if he were more experienced first, little realising that this could reduce the beauty of his own spirit; but there it was, he was so very little, and felt he needed to grow, and to find out, and it seemed too soon just to be told, even by God.