Reluctant Demon by Linda Rios Brook Read Free Book Online

terror into your very soul? It is not death, but it is everything you fear death to be.
    I have observed human ways for a very long time, and I marvel at the extremes to which you people will resort to avoid death. It's not the idea of being dead that troubles you. Some might find death to be a welcome escape if only one could be assured that it were nothing more than an endless, dreamless sleep. As a matter of fact, even to me the notion doesn't seem that bad. What people fear about death is that it is nothing like that at all. You fear being awakened, regaining consciousness, and realizing there's been a terrible mistake: you're not dead at all. You're still alive but far removed from your home and familiar surroundings and cast into another dimension where you are entirely alone.
    You fear death because the unthinkable hides in your imagination. What if death is only a door through which you are forced to pass, only to find that you have remained exactly the same person? You retain your consciousness, your talents, ambition, emotions, and every aspect of aliveness that gives meaning to your existence. But the world in which these things have meaning and relationship is suddenly closed off to you.
    Your life on Earth was worthwhile only in so much as it had purpose, definition, and meaning to the world around you. You pass through the door called death, and the world you have known is gone. Your meaning and purpose are gone. There is no longer the possibility of a God to whom you can cry out. You are completely alone.
    It was something like that for us to find ourselves suddenly on Earth with no way to return. We were angels, more glorious than you can possibly imagine and created to live eternally in heaven, not on Earth, no matter how pretty it was.
    When I came to my senses after the crash, I was appalled at what had happened to Satan. At first I wasn't sure it was really him. How could he change so drastically? He was no longer the light bearer—or anything close to it. He was ghastly. The grandness of all that he had been was horribly changed. The light that emanated from him was completely gone. He was gray and thin—so thin I could almost see right through him. It became so apparent that his beauty and glory had only been real because of his relationship to God. His beauty, talent, and charm were real and meaningful only as he reflected the attributes of the God who made him. Disconnected from God, He became unspeakably ugly.
    How can I explain the change in him? Imagine a Christmas tree decorated with ornaments and set aglow by hundreds of lights. You behold the beautiful tree in its halo of lights and exclaim how glorious it is. You don't take notice that its brilliance is completely dependent upon the hidden electric cord that winds itself silently from bulb to bulb until it is at last plugged into the electrical outlet where the power is. You don't become aware of it until the cord is unplugged and the tree becomes suddenly dark and loses its beauty. The ornaments are still there, as are the light bulbs and sockets, but the glory that is a Christmas tree is gone. That tree once so admired and set in a place of honor to be the center of your home is suddenly lifeless, dull, and dry. What was once a Christmas tree, full of promise, is now only a dead plant with meaningless ornaments and fake icicles that are too much trouble to remove. I have watched as you dragged it to the curb to be carried off by the garbage truck.
    It was like that for Satan. All of the ornaments and reminders of his existence when he was the light bearer still hung on his being. But the relationship to God that had given him meaning and purpose was completely gone.
    As it was for Satan, so it was for the rest of us who had fallen with him. It was stunning to see how our feet had become hooves. Even our wings were changed. Most of our beautiful feathers had been replaced with slimy scales. The others were like Satan, the essence of ugly. I