No, this is not a story about a husband or boyfriend or family member. This story is about how I met my angel– the one who watches over me. This encounter happened about a week after I was diagnosed with Lupus.
I flew home from Colorado to Texas to take a week off work for side effects and relaxation. One night, during that week off in early May, I was alone in my childhood bedroom and I felt utterly alone. I closed my eyes and saw God across the ocean getting blurry. Panic grew inside of me. I opened my eyes and stared at my ceiling with aches and pain throbbing in my body, tears rolling down my shaking cheeks. In this moment, I prayed for God to forgive me for letting go of His hand for a period when I felt hopeless in my pain. I fell in worship alone and it was in that moment, I felt no pain and had no tears of sorrow. I asked God to give me dreams of hope and healing. That night I dreamt I was giving birth to a healthy baby in water with no pain and a man was standing beside me; I didn’t know who it was. When I awoke, I knew I was going through a re-birthing process with my Father.
I realized I am a bride of Jesus. It is much like the vows in a marriage: in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish; from this day forward until death do us part. Jesus never let go of my hand in my illness. It was my doing for letting fear envelop my mind of what pains would come through my sleepless nights. I quickly turned this around and grabbed both His hands. This time, I’m never letting go, no matter how sick I feel.
The following day was a day that I will always remember. I was alone in my parent’s house, sitting on my faithful piano bench in prayer. I wanted to encounter God. I started singing and playing a worship song called Forever by Bethel. I played the last chord of the song on my piano and right after, the doorbell rang. He was persistent but not in an annoying way; a quiet knock followed. I walked, opened the door and immediately felt peace. He was taller than me, around my age, holding a solicitor notepad and was wearing white and had light, hazel looking eyes and dark brown hair.
Can I be honest here? He was beautiful. My first word was, “Hello.” He was smiling the perfect smile and asked if I was just singing. I said yes and he put his hand over his heart and started thanking me and saying what a blessing it was to have heard this song. He asked if I could sing it again for him. In this moment I felt no fear and no harm, I only discerned peace and sincerity. I felt safe. I would have never done this before but I said of course and invited him in.
He stood by the door humbly and I welcomed him to sit on the couch. I began to play again. After I finished, I turned around on my piano bench. He was quietly sitting there smiling with his hands laid on his knees. When he spoke, it was with a pureness and humbleness I’ve never really experienced around anyone. He was so gentle and calm; he never got overly excited. He spoke to me like he already knew my being. We began to talk about God, spirituality and my illness. He asked my name and I said, “Savannah, what’s yours?” He smiled and softly said, “Christopher.” He said it almost quietly like it was more than just a name. He said he couldn’t leave the door without having told me what a blessing the song was and that he was listening outside the door after he heard my voice across from our neighbor’s home. I giggled at how loud I must have been. Nothing in our conversation left out God.
He asked if we could close in prayer and mentioned how much honor he felt in this moment of ours and wanted to kneel to our King of Kings. My sister says angels bow before God in His presence. We knelt on our knees and he prayed, more so over me the whole time. He used almost Shakespearean terms like thy and thee; it was unique. I’ll never forget some of his prayer that went along the lines of, “Father, let her continue to show her greatest love to all, as she loves you and me, and all sisters and brothers in Christ.” Ending with, “We pray this in the all powerful name of our Lord, Jesus Christ. Amen.” We began to get up and he offered to help me stand up and he extended his hand to shake mine with a smile, but I offered a hug instead.
He hugged me with the power of a lion. This was a different hug; I felt like I was in a cloud. No, it didn’t feel weird. In fact, I didn’t want him to leave; I just wanted to worship more and beam about our Father. We said our goodbyes, smiled at each other and parted ways. He wasn’t a stranger. I felt like I knew him for years and somehow that he had already known me. I believe he was my guardian angel.
I later found out his name means Christ- bearer or carrier of Christ. And he truly was a messenger from Christ to me; carrying the message that I’m not alone in this sickness and that worship is a way of healing not only my body, but my soul. No he didn’t have wings or a halo, but I believe he was one of the Chosen of God, sending me good news. I believe in angels just as I believe in demons and warfare and in a loving God who answers prayers when we are truly seeking His heart. And I believe in that early day in May, the day I met my angel, and no one can take my faith of that away from me. Thank you, God. Through it all, my eyes are on you.
Don’t forget to show hospitality to strangers, for some who have done this have entertained angels without realizing it. Hebrews 13: 2
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