Where Are the Angels?

It has been three years since I've accepted Jesus Christ into my life. It happened on a rainy Tuesday afternoon in the middle of August. Ever since then I've been able to see the wickedness hovering around the city, swarming around like bees near their hive. It made me wonder, how on earth I could have not sensed this demonic presence before. Maybe it was because I was among the depraved, participating in their schemes, or maybe it was because I wasn't aware of the presence itself.

As I roamed those San Francisco streets, I was introduced to things one could never imagine. I've seen drunks wobble and fall flat on their faces exiting from local bars. I've witnessed bloody deaths that will be imbedded in my brain for eternity. I've experienced a gun to the head from my previous gang years ago. I've watched thieves steal from others as well as one another, and I've seen those whose bones are made of gold bully those who have no home, struggling to live off the coins they collect from people passing by. It's a miracle I'm still even alive uncorrupted. However, it makes me wonder, where are the angels?

One Sunday morning – the first day after moving out of my foster parents' home – I received a call from an old friend from high school. I dropped my dress shirt, reached across my twin bed, and grasped the phone. I looked at the caller ID, pressed talk, and placed it on my left ear.

"Hey, what's up, Mark?" I groaned.

Mark was an atheist, so he didn't believe in the places called heaven and hell. Consequently, he believed he was invincible. From jumping out of a plane without a parachute and surviving to sleeping with any girl without getting any disease, he thought he could do anything he wanted. He was the king, and he only called me on Sundays – wanting to do something cretinous – trying to keep me from the chapel.

"Nothin' much." He paused. "Hey, you don't sound too proud to be hearin' me right this moment, Calob. What, you got a grudge or somethin'?"

"What do you want?" I asked annoyed.

"I was just wondering if you wanted to go hang out at some random bar on Lenard Street. You know the ones with all the chicks?"

I took the phone from my ear and paced angrily around the bedroom. He asked a similar question like this every Sunday. After regaining my composure, I spoke into the phone with a sunny voice I did not even recognize. I knew the magic words to shut Mark up.

"I'm preparing for church today. Maybe you can join me."

There was a minute of silence on the other line. The only thing that was keeping me on the phone was the heavy breathing seeping through. Finally, Mark spoke, changing the subject, "Hey, you go to that baptist church on Broad Street, right?"

"Yeah."

"Wasn't there shooting there last Wednesday?"

I thought for a moment. Last Wednesday, I was late driving that day to bible study because of a nap. As I drove on the nearly empty streets, I saw a man wearing a sweat suit, standing in the middle of my lane. I panicked and stomped on the breaks, but it was stuck. However, something contradictory happened. The man, with impossible speed, pulled out a knife and slashed my front left tire while dodging my car. By this point, my breaks worked. I parked my car in the center of the street lane, furiously opened the cay door, and examined the tire. It was completely deflated. Once I looked up to yell at the man, he was gone. I wished I'd hit him but then I realized it wasn't Christian of me. After I regained my composure, I called up some of my cronies to help me push the car to the nearest auto shop. Therefore, that day I wasn't able to attend bible study.

"Hey, Calob, you still there? Come on man, don't ignore me. Hello?"

Once I came, I responded, "Yeah, I'm still her." I paused. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Well. . ." Mark hesitated, " . . . I just think it's dangerous for you to go. You never know, man. There might still be shooting."

"Is this another trick to –?

Man, this ain't no trick!" Mark interrupted. "I'm worried you'll get hurt."

"The Lord is my protector." I said defensively.

"Man, your God won't care if you miss a Sunday trying to take precaution. If he does then he's a fool."

"That's enough, Mark!"

Everything stopped and stood still. The short silence was so quiet it was defining.

"Fine then." Mark finally broke the quiet. "Don't blame me if you get a bullet in between the eyes."

"Mar –

Click. Mark hung up before I got the chance to speak.

I hung the phone up too and sat on the bed, dumb struck. Mark never spoke that way in the four years I've known him let alone say God's name. Maybe what he was saying was true. I thought, turned on the TV in front of my bed, and loosened my tie.

Later that day while on my way to the six o'clock service, I thought about what Mark said, and somehow I talked myself into going to church, which I will soon come to regret.

As I waited at a red stop light, a queasy feeling stirred up inside me. Once the light turned green, WHAM! A black car came out of nowhere and sent my car rolling. The air bag smacked me hard in the face as I hit my head multiple times on the ceiling of my car. Darkness came after that.

When my eyes opened, I saw a man in front of me wearing a sweat suit. I looked away from him and saw the black car wrecked along with mine. I closed my eyes, thought, then quickly opened them in recognition. This man was the same man who slashed my tire.

I struggled to make words, but was able to create a few, "I wish . . . I'd . . . hit . . . you."

"Why's that?" the man asked in a deep voice.

"You . . . slashed my tire . . . and . . . wrecked my car."

"We tried to warn you to stay away from the church. But did you listen?"

"Who's we?" I asked, but before I could here his answer, I blacked out, again.

When I woke up, I was in a hospital bed. That man was still next to me, but this time he was wearing a doctors' outfit.

I groaned, "Will you ever leave me alone?"

In an infantile way, he said, "Nope."

I sluggishly turned my head to look at his face. There was something unique and unusual about him.

"What's your name?" I asked.

"Joshua Adams."

"Why do you torment me, Joshua?"

I did not torment you. We actually saved you."

My eyes squinted in confusion. "Who's we, and what do you mean you saved me?"

Joshua chuckled, "You'll know soon."

After he said that, two nurses entered the room while Joshua left it. As one nurse helped prop me up I asked, "Could one of you turn the news on for me?" Both nurses nodded and did so, then left. As I watched the news, something caught my attention:

Woman: Last Wednesday on near a baptist church on Broad Street at around 6:15p.m, there were two gangs settling their differences with guns. Families fled their homes once they heard the shooting. This gruesome war lasted over two hours. A similar incident happened at the same place around the same time today, but this one lasted over forty-five minutes. A total of 23 were killed.

My mouth dropped and would not close. Bible study and six o'clock service both started at 6:00 p.m. and ended at 8:00 p.m. Joshua had slashed my tire and trashed my car around the shooting times. He somehow knew where I was and where I was going. Joshua actually saved my life.

I saw a call button on the right side of the bed and pressed it. I wanted answers and I wanted them immediately.

"Can I help you?" It was a woman's voice.

"Yes, can I get my doctor, Joshua?"

There was a minute of silence. "I'm sorry, sir, but there are no doctors named Joshua here."

I was confused. Joshua was just here. I asked again, "are you sure there's no Joshua Adams?"

"Yes, I'm sure, however there are some people claiming to be your parents and friend. Should I send them in?"

I took my time before responding, "Yes, please."

"Alright."

Nothing made sense. I had just talked to Joshua. I thought and thought and thought. Then it hit me. I knew who we were.

"Calob!" Before I was able to look up, Mom wrapped her arms around me and squeezed. "Oh, my baby's O.K."

"O.K?" I looked to the door. It was Mark. "Look at him. He's all bandaged and mangled up."

I starred at Mark and could not help but smile. I was glad to see one of my guardians in front of me.

"Nice to see you too, Mark," I said.

"Calob," it was my dad, ". . . what happened? How did you end up like this on your first day living by yourself?"

I smiled from ear to ear. You guys might want to sit down, because this is going to be a long story."

That day, I had realized who Joshua and Mark were. That day, I knew who we were. That day, I realized anybody could be anyone. That day, I had realized I'd seen my angels.