can see now why you don’t want to believe in them, and why they don’t elicit positive feelings for you. But I’d like you to think about something.”
He nodded, but kept quiet. The less he said, the faster this would be over and he could try to forget she knew everything. At some point, he’d have to deal with the reality that he and Aria had shared the same dream. He probably should tell her that. Not now though. And probably not tomorrow, either. The next day…well, that was too far off to worry about.
She touched his arm, and he realized he’d been off on another mental tangent.
“You sure you’re up for this?”
“I’m fine. Talk.”
Her soft, warm laughter touched his heart, soothing the ever-present ache within its deepest corners. “Look, I know I told you this earlier, but I was kind of distraught, and I’m not sure you picked up on it. In my dreams, there is a huge, hideous creature with massive, leathery black wings standing behind your dad, goading him, pushing him to—” She shuddered and drew air quotes with her fingers. “‘…beat the devil out’ of you.”
He rolled his eyes. “Yeah. Dad’s imaginary angel.”
“Well…hold on a minute, Corbin. What if it wasn’t imaginary? What if something really was saying those things to your dad? Like…a dark angel?”
His jaw dropped, and he stared at her wide-eyed. “You’re not serious.”
“Yes, I am. If you believe in good, you have to believe in evil, too. Don’t you think?”
“I—” He frowned. Arguing seemed like a good idea, but she had a point. “Well, I suppose that could make sense.”
“Of course it does. If God has special messengers of light—which, according to the Bible, He does, then doesn’t it make sense that Satan might also have his own such creatures of darkness? After all, the Bible also says that other angels were cast out with Lucifer.”
She sipped at her tea, opening the door for a response, but he had no idea how to counter that. This was all new territory for him.
He shrugged, then leaned his head against the back of the sofa and closed his eyes.
“We tend to think of Satan’s minions as demons, something completely unique; but those demons are angels by nature—fallen and evil, yes—but still organically the same. Isn’t it possible that an inebriated man might see only an angel of light? For that matter, Corinthians says that Satan and his ministers can take on the form of an angel of light for the very purpose of misleading human beings. So many people aren’t truly tuned in to the Father’s voice, and therefore aren’t able to try the spirits, as God’s Word instructs us to do. A man like your father, whose mind is muddled already by alcohol…can you see how easily he could be led to believe such a well-orchestrated ruse?”
Corbin didn’t offer a protest, but couldn’t quite bring himself to voice an agreement, either. He opened his eyes just enough to see her from beneath his eyelashes. Her gaze moved over his face, searching for who knew what. He made a point of relaxing his tight jaw, not wanting her to think he was angry. He wasn’t, but that didn’t make him like the subject.
“I saw the creature, Corbin. You had mentioned nothing whatsoever to me about—well, you know. About your life, your childhood. I did not pull that… thing out of my subconscious. These dreams, they were from God. I started having them when I started praying for you. You know that’s true.”
He opened his eyes fully, turned his head toward her and dredged up a smile he hoped did not reflect the torment in his soul.
“You’ve made some good points, Aria. Thank you for caring enough to try. It’s always been a little tough to get things through my thick skull. And I know it wasn’t easy for you to go there.” He sat up straight and reached out to tug gently on a strand of her hair, then cupped her cheek in his hand. “I promise to think about it. I do. But can we leave it alone
He nodded, but kept quiet. The less he said, the faster this would be over and he could try to forget she knew everything. At some point, he’d have to deal with the reality that he and Aria had shared the same dream. He probably should tell her that. Not now though. And probably not tomorrow, either. The next day…well, that was too far off to worry about.
She touched his arm, and he realized he’d been off on another mental tangent.
“You sure you’re up for this?”
“I’m fine. Talk.”
Her soft, warm laughter touched his heart, soothing the ever-present ache within its deepest corners. “Look, I know I told you this earlier, but I was kind of distraught, and I’m not sure you picked up on it. In my dreams, there is a huge, hideous creature with massive, leathery black wings standing behind your dad, goading him, pushing him to—” She shuddered and drew air quotes with her fingers. “‘…beat the devil out’ of you.”
He rolled his eyes. “Yeah. Dad’s imaginary angel.”
“Well…hold on a minute, Corbin. What if it wasn’t imaginary? What if something really was saying those things to your dad? Like…a dark angel?”
His jaw dropped, and he stared at her wide-eyed. “You’re not serious.”
“Yes, I am. If you believe in good, you have to believe in evil, too. Don’t you think?”
“I—” He frowned. Arguing seemed like a good idea, but she had a point. “Well, I suppose that could make sense.”
“Of course it does. If God has special messengers of light—which, according to the Bible, He does, then doesn’t it make sense that Satan might also have his own such creatures of darkness? After all, the Bible also says that other angels were cast out with Lucifer.”
She sipped at her tea, opening the door for a response, but he had no idea how to counter that. This was all new territory for him.
He shrugged, then leaned his head against the back of the sofa and closed his eyes.
“We tend to think of Satan’s minions as demons, something completely unique; but those demons are angels by nature—fallen and evil, yes—but still organically the same. Isn’t it possible that an inebriated man might see only an angel of light? For that matter, Corinthians says that Satan and his ministers can take on the form of an angel of light for the very purpose of misleading human beings. So many people aren’t truly tuned in to the Father’s voice, and therefore aren’t able to try the spirits, as God’s Word instructs us to do. A man like your father, whose mind is muddled already by alcohol…can you see how easily he could be led to believe such a well-orchestrated ruse?”
Corbin didn’t offer a protest, but couldn’t quite bring himself to voice an agreement, either. He opened his eyes just enough to see her from beneath his eyelashes. Her gaze moved over his face, searching for who knew what. He made a point of relaxing his tight jaw, not wanting her to think he was angry. He wasn’t, but that didn’t make him like the subject.
“I saw the creature, Corbin. You had mentioned nothing whatsoever to me about—well, you know. About your life, your childhood. I did not pull that… thing out of my subconscious. These dreams, they were from God. I started having them when I started praying for you. You know that’s true.”
He opened his eyes fully, turned his head toward her and dredged up a smile he hoped did not reflect the torment in his soul.
“You’ve made some good points, Aria. Thank you for caring enough to try. It’s always been a little tough to get things through my thick skull. And I know it wasn’t easy for you to go there.” He sat up straight and reached out to tug gently on a strand of her hair, then cupped her cheek in his hand. “I promise to think about it. I do. But can we leave it alone
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