|Merry Christmas from Virginia!|
Since that time, they have continued to minister to God's children in countless ways, most of the time unseen, but once in awhile, they somehow manage to make their presence known.
I could be wrong, but I am convinced that angels play a role, if not a significant one, in our healing.
I remember one holiday about ten years ago when my heart was so full of despair that I could not bring myself to step outside and pray my most heartfelt desires the way I normally did on Christmas Eve. Call me foolish but for me, December 24th always feels as if it holds the greatest potential for the manifestation of miracles. It's only a feeling, but if holiness could ever be tangible or even palpable, I do sense it rather strongly on Christmas Eve.
But on this particular year no prayers came forth, and I walked back into the empty house where I was of all things, dog sitting for a Jewish family*. This home, totally devoid of any reminder of our Lord's birth, only amplified my despair. Tears streamed down my face, and at 7:30, every minute until bed time seemed like an eternity.
At 9:30, I finally headed to bed (which is extremely early for me). As I pulled up the covers around me, I prayed, "Maybe Christmas miracles aren't even real. Maybe everyone is right and I'm as naive as the day is long. I don't think I believe in them anymore. It's really time for me to grow up."
Then I settled down to get to sleep, expecting this to take at least an hour, if not two. Depression tends to keep me awake. Surprisingly however, I fell into a deep, deep slumber in about five minutes.
Then I had a dream. I was sitting at a desk, trying my hardest to write something but couldn't because of an overwhelming feeling of anxiety. I got up and began to pace back and forth in this little room. As I headed back toward the desk, I heard something.
When I turned around there were three identical looking monks standing in a row. They had on brown cowls with golden sashes tied around their waists. They also all held a golden tablet in their hands. They had brown hair, but their faces were not entirely distinct.
One of them stepped forward while the other two remained both still and silent. He said, "My name is Sean, and I have a message for you. Do not be afraid."
Such a simple dream, but even as I slept, as soon as he said those words a peace in the physical realm was released. The feeling was so powerful that I woke up with a start and literally half ran and half fell down the stairs to get to a computer to see what "Sean" actually meant. I reasoned that if it had anything to do with God then the dream was from Him (I had never had a dream from God until that point).
Sure enough, Sean is the Gaelic form of John, which as many of you know means, "God is gracious." It was 4:30 in the morning, but my heart was so full of joy, I could not get back to sleep. This is important because I went through almost two decades of major clinical depression. Nothing could ever lift my despair.
Yet on the hardest day of the year for me, I had a dream that lasted no more than a minute. There I was laughing just hours after declaring that Christmas miracles were not real, and that I was a fool to ever think they were.
Later that day, I saw a friend of mine who was shocked to see me in such a joyful mood. I decided to share my dream with her. I didn't think she was going to believe me but instead of doubting, she smiled and said, "Kelly, those men were not monks, and that was not a dream. They were angels, and that was a visitation."
Well, that kind of rocked my world. I didn't know what to make of it. But given the sudden change in my mood (and that sense of unshakeable peace lasted for weeks), it was hard to deny that something out of the ordinary had happened.
Since that night, I have had several more dreams along those same lines. Sometimes an unseen person holds my hand. I feel a presence even while I'm asleep. Sometimes I do see some people, and they share with each other attributes of God and I'm just kind of listening in on their conversation. And when I wake up, I know I have been changed.
Angels are not meant to be worshiped. We are not even meant to seek out their names. In the case of my dream, I did not ask the monk for his name, yet it was told to me because it (Sean) contained a message about God Himself--that He is gracious. In this way, the dream was healing, and the healing came through a message told to me by an angel.
So in that regard we may all do well to learn more about the role of angels and how they function in the heavenly realm. For me, knowing what they do and why has recently helped my prayer life flourish, and prayers are the gateway to greater healing and of course, intimacy with God, which is all He desires from us anyway. He loves us, and in understanding His world and realm in deeper ways, we learn of this love in previously unimaginable ways.
That is my hope for you all during this Christmas season. I hope the knowledge of God's love coming down for you will break your chains of hurt and pain and that you will experience freedom like never before. Thank You God for Jesus and His healing heart.
Merry Christmas, Beloved.
*Many of my friends are Jewish for whom I have a deep and profound love as well as for their beautiful faith.