Cubercolumn for 12/15: Of Christmas and angels by John Duncan_120803

Posted: 12/15/03

CYBERCOLUMN
Of Christmas and angels

By John Duncan

I am sitting here under the old oak tree, thinking of Christmas. What do you remember about Christmas?

It was Christmas 2002. Our family opened gifts. Crinkled wrapping paper littered the living room floor. Gifts were stacked in small piles. The Christmas tree appeared barren, empty, awash with pine needles loosely scattered.

The phone rang as the telephone is prone to do on Christmas morning. Expecting a family greeting and a cheery, “Merry Christmas,” I was surprised to hear the voice on the end of the phone line say: “Pearlie needs to see you. Please come!”

John Duncan

I arrived at the house. I knocked on the door, entered, stood in the hallway, and conversed with a family member. I looked cautiously until I noticed a wall placard, “Be still and consider the works of God.”

Next I listened. I received news about Pearlie’s decaying health and of Pearlie’s favorite flower—winged orchids—and how the petals of the purple orchid bouquet on her coffee table fell one by one until they covered the table. I also heard a song on the television. Was it a Christmas song about angels we have heard on high? And, then, her daughter delivered the news: Granny Pearlie has something to tell you.

On that Christmas morning, Pearlie had a story to tell—a story of dazzling delight of flapping wings and angelic visions. I heard it. I promise you I heard it with my own ears.

Pearlie, the octogenarian, sweet with pursed lips, called to me on that Christmas morning. Throat cancer ravaged her body so that she coughed and talked through a small round tube stuck in her throat. She smiled a sweet smile and unfolded the drama.

“A big bird came with white wings and hovered over me. It was beautiful!”

Did she look into heaven? Was she seeing precious stones and gates with locks and keys and walls like China’s Great Wall? Or did heaven illumine her eyes with the dazzling delight of tiny mustard seeds, stringed golden pearls, fishing nets, golden streets, bronze walls, or shades of endless blue tumbling like snowflakes on a winter’s day? Or did she see a white horse with a rider, maybe a white winged horse that hovers in moments before God’s final calling? Did she see angels whose faces with eyes riveted turned toward the Lamb?

I left Pearlie’s house that Christmas with thoughts of wonder. What does heaven look like? Several days later, Pearlie begged Jason, her nurse, to come by her side as she sat in her chair.

Her wispy voice fluttered to Jason, “I am going to bed now, and I am not going to get up. I am being called.” She slowly made way to her bed, lay there for a few days, sucked on crushed ice, grabbed the hands of visitors, smiled sweetly and never got up. The final call came. She slipped silently into heaven’s pearly gates, welcomed by angels whose white wings fanned and whose faces shone toward the Lamb.

Christmas comes, and this Christmas you’ll celebrate the wonder. You’ll hang Christmas lights. You’ll open gifts. You’ll eat until you’re stuffed like Santa. You’ll share the joy and laughter. And then you’ll remember.

You might remember angels—the dazzling angels who announced the birth of a Savior, Christ the King; or glowing angels who told Mary and Joseph, “Do not be afraid”; or angels dressed in clothes wearing hats like Clarence in “It‘s a Wonderful Life”; or snow angels delightfully scissored in the snow.

It’s Christmas, and I remember Pearlie and angels and words like, “It was beautiful!” I do not know all that Pearlie saw last Christmas, but she beheld its beauty and smiled.

So this Christmas, celebrate the wonder. Kiss the kids. Behold beauty. Smile. Share the love. Remember Christ in a manger. Do not be afraid. Oh please, do not be afraid. And by all means, look for an angel. Look real close. It might be sitting next to you right now! Merry Christmas!

John Duncan is pastor of Lakeside Baptist Church in Granbury, Texas, and the writer of numerous articles in various journals and magazines