Finney Thanks His Angel Guardian
An excerpt from Deadline
“You’ve taught me so much, Zyor. This place is wonderful, much more wonderful than I had even dreamed. And, besides Elyon himself, you’ve been the most wonderful part of it. I’m so glad we’re here together, finally able to talk face to face as friends.”
“I am but a tiny part of your life here, which has just begun, with endless eons of joyous adventure ahead, in Elyon’s new universe.” The mighty one’s face softened into its most childlike features. “But I am honored you believe that part significant.”
“At last,” Finney added.
“You didn’t say ‘At last you believe that part significant,’ but you must have thought it. All those years you served me. You protected me from death and injury in situations I never knew. I remember when I was seven—I fell into Benton Stream and hit my head on that rock. No one could figure out how I’d kept from drowning. It was you, wasn’t it?”
The gigantic warrior nodded like a sheepish child. “I begged Elyon to let me carry you to land. He said his purpose for you was not done and granted my request. It was one of only three times I was allowed to physically touch you. I will never forget that day.”
“You fought to keep me from temptation,” Finney said, “and when I foolishly walked headlong into it you fought to bring me through it faithful to Elyon. I gave God credit, and I know that’s all you wanted. I also gave myself some credit, and my family and friends and church. But never once did I give you any credit, faithful friend.”
Finney reached his arm up to Zyor’s mammoth shoulders, accentuating how thin his perfect human body was, compared to this tender warrior’s. “I’m truly sorry, Zyor, for Elyon’s Book told me your kind were spirits sent to minister to my kind. It spoke of angels guarding us. But in the shadows of that world such thoughts somehow seemed unreal to me. I just didn’t get it. Please forgive my blindness, dear friend.”
The angel’s resemblance to a bashful child was remarkable. Finney grinned at Zyor as if he were looking at a little boy—this one ten feet tall—blanching at the praise of his father. Zyor’s head hung low in a way that made Finney think of Barney, the Tennessee mountain boy in his platoon. He almost expected Zyor to say “Ah, shucks, it weren’t nuthin’.”
That precious expression on his face. Yes, it’s like Little Finn. Just like Little Finn!
“It is mine to serve,” Zyor said. “The servant seeks his approval from the Audience of One.”
Zyor said the word “One” with such reverence there could be no doubt of whom he spoke. Yet these words seemed as if they came straight out of some angelic handbook designed to keep Elyon’s messengers focused and on track. Finney sensed Zyor must have said the words to himself many times in the dark world, as he worked so hard to protect someone who didn’t even know he existed...and made his work far more difficult.
This is an excerpt from chapter 30 of Randy Alcorn's book Deadline.