I was hoping the old saying wouldn’t prove prophetic in my case. I was aware the coming introduction made the possibility more probable but I was counting on Michael to intervene on my behalf if his brother attempted any funny business.
I tried to calm my fears with the reminder Michael loved him. How bad could he be? Okay, okay. Stop. Let’s back up a minute. Did I just ask myself how bad the devil could be? I really needed to get a grip here. Whatever was behind the ruler of hell’s request for this meeting I had no doubt it was motivated by his own agenda. How that agenda could possibly involve me, I couldn’t fathom.
God said no one could steal my soul. Since I wasn’t about to give it up voluntarily I couldn’t begin to guess what this was all about. Besides I doubted Lucifer was particularly interested in acquiring my ordinary little soul to add to his collection. The way things were going on earth these days, I doubted he was experiencing any difficulties fulfilling his quota.
I once asked Michael why his brother hated us so much. In his polite, politically correct, trying to be as inoffensive as possible way, he admitted our existence irritated Lucifer. Right, so I would try to be as non-irritating as possible. For Michael’s sake I was really hoping to like him a little, but I didn’t think that would be possible. It’s hard to like someone who was cheering with such unreserved enthusiasm for your elimination from existence.
I wasn’t quite sure what to expect. My mother told me once it was ridiculous Lucifer was so often depicted as a sort of lizard-like being with horns and a tail. He was an archangel. One of God’s highest creations. Now that I’d spent some time with Michael, and remembering the way God referred to him as his son, I could see her point. Having spent so much time in Michael’s company I knew there were vast parts to his being he couldn’t share with me simply because I was incapable of perceiving his true magnificence. I suspected the same would be true with Lucifer. Man was so far removed from the reality of the firstborn our ability to find any common frame of reference was limited.
Still, to please Michael, I was willing to make the effort to be as non-irritating and polite as possible to his older brother. As we approached, I could sense his presence and his wry amusement. A silent reply echoed through my mind that my attempt would undoubtedly prove a futile one, at least as far as the non-irritating part was concerned. Whether Lucifer was responsible for the response or I was now reduced to having a conversation with myself, I couldn’t be certain.
The closer we got the more terrified I became. Michael was giving me plenty of time to turn around and run if that was my inclination. Not that I hadn’t considered the option, but again it seemed to be a rather silly and to use his word, futile, gesture on my part. If the king of the underworld was intent on this meeting, there was no chance of me avoiding it. In which case I would rather proceed with it under his brother’s watchful eye. There was love there…on both sides. Even if I became incredibly irritating I was hoping Lucifer would restrain himself for Michael’s sake, out of his love for his brother.
Luciel, not Lucifer. That was the firstborn’s name for him. Luciel. The light of God. The illumination of God. How could he do this? How could he have done what he did to Him?
‘A question far beyond your ability to comprehend…let alone its answer.’
‘I know. Sorry.’ Michael seemed unaware we’d gotten ahead of his introduction.
I looked up to where I could feel him at my shoulder. He stopped. I stopped. I felt him join us. Michael’s joy. Lucifer’s indulgence. Their reunion reminded me of an older brother’s amused but heartfelt affection for a much younger one and a younger brother’s answering adoration for his big brother.
Michael’s voice interrupted my musings. “This is my brother, Luciel….”