A certain minister wrote the following account:
Angela sat slumped in a hurtful heap against the wall. Her red-haired head rested heavily on her bent knees.
Pastor Benedict happened to clomp down the hallway. He stopped to take in the sight of Angela sitting on the floor in such a dejected posture. Angela looked miserably up at him, eyes reddened with crying, then quickly bowed her head again.
Pastor Benedict”s heart brimmed with compassion. He plopped down beside of Angela. He crossed his arms and leaned very slightly against her left shoulder. He did not say a word, respecting her silence. When she raised her head, the Pastor took it as a gesture that she was ready to talk.
“What is the matter, Angela?” he asked gently.
Like a dam bursting through a breach, she gushed an answer barely understandable, words running over words, like waters agitated from running over river stones.
The Pastor urged her to slow down. After a few moments, Angela intensely explained, “I’m supposed to be one of the angels in the Christmas play, and, —uh—they did not give me my costume—-THEY TOOK IT AWAY FROM ME!!—and I’m never going to be an angel in a Christmas play again—-EVER! She snuffed long and loud after giving rapid rise to the passions that exploded from her child’s heart.
Pastor Benedict could see that Angela felt slighted for some reason or another. After all, the other angels in the Christmas play had their costumes, and they were practicing at that very moment. As the Pastor contemplated various solutions, a lady of the church rounded the corner to tell Angela that the alterations they had to make to her angel outfit were complete.
“The hem needed to be re-stitched,” she explained unaware of Angela’s distress.
There was the manifestation of the problem. Angela had misunderstood. Still feeling hurt, she remained determined not to be an angel in any Christmas play EVER!—-she said emphatically.
Though he tried to reason with her, she shot back, “They have enough angels in there! I am not needed!” With those words, the Pastor heard the root of her concern.
“Angela, God uses every angel He can get regardless of attire. How many angels do you think He used to tell the shepherds about Jesus?”
She rolled her eyes up at him pitifully as she considered the question. “Was it a hundred?”
Smiling, he replied, “I figure it was ever bit a hundred. And, if He had one more—-like you—-that angel would have been needed and used, too.”
He took her little hand in his and walked to the study. She had never before been in the Pastor’s study. It seemed so peaceful, yet it brimmed with life and encouragement.
“Listen, Angela. I have got to go to Bible study now. Sit here in my rocking chair a little bit until you get to feeling better. And, think about what I told you about God using all the angels He can get.”
Later, when he returned, Angela was gone. But, something he spied on his desk brought a smile to his face. Angela had drawn him a picture. She must had drawn a bunch of angels, all simple stick figures, but all drawn with wings.
But, to the left of the page, was a more defined angelic figure drawn as though in a hurried flying rush not to be left behind. He knew it had to be Angela.
He headed to the sanctuary where practice was still going on. Sure enough, there was Angela with the other angels just as they started singing, “Hark, the herald angels sing, glory to the new born King…”
How people misunderstand life, the Pastor mused to himself. The bad experiences and seeming disappointments in life seem to steal away our costumes of personal relevance and vitality. Because of it, many feel useless and unloved.
But, the account of Christ’s birth is proof that God made a needful alteration to fit all of mankind for Heaven’s Gospel. And, He is always looking for one more “angel” to tell the story of it, which is what all should understand.
Pastor Ron Branch lives in Mason County and is pastor of Hope Baptist Church, Middleport, Ohio. Viewpoints expressed in the article are the work of the author.