Daniel's Training

Daniel stalled in that silence; unearthed glory to become; the talents not known, but soon to be exposed; the valiant begun; Heaven waits no longer; hearts do mend; the warrior found; the materials and vessel brought together, at last, within unity.

"And by what order does this commence?" Daniel strained to say, "By what measure; by what edict will declare, a poor pauper boy, of one day unearthed and re-earthed to bury the same, should possess such a throne sword as this?"

"Cast by the fire Daniel," the steward led Daniel to the edge of this hearth; his hands trembled, though guided by the ancient throngs of this one so close to God, "Touch the flame; let the union behold… You will see…"

And with this ardent request, the tip to sword was sent down and grasped the tip of this Holy fire. In an instant the sword grew into a full flame, down to the very edge and grip Daniel held and possessed. This was to startle him; Daniel letting loose; the sword falls and remains in burn and frightful glow, though nothing burned in surround of it, nor was it put out. Yet burned like a heart which would never die; the spirit which would spark always with eternal life.

"It does not burn," Daniel looked back at the steward, "But does…burn!"

"And shall always," the steward came close, lowered Daniel's hand to retrieve the sword, yet it burned all the while, though yet it did not burn to the righteous; the pure, "ever more… God's light to never extinguish; the breath of His flame sits here, upon the sword forged by Him…for you, Daniel…"

"But why?" Daniel was nearly struck by all he was to see.

"The First shall become the last," the steward spoke, "and the last shall become the First." Daniel felt the steward place his ancient hand over his shoulder.

"You will cup it with its sheath and scabbard," he spoke and instructed Daniel to do as such, "but never to put it out… Oh yes, it will burn; always…but it is hidden… Only by your hands Daniel, will this sword have any usefulness; none other. The handle will not grip, nor allow another hand to enter into its fold and the flame will not yet burn… This sword and you…are bound together for all eternity…"

"What am I to make of all this?" Daniel thought to himself, though he spoke as much in a frail whisper and soft speech.

"Daniel," the steward brought back Daniel's attention; full and direct, "Will I teach you how to use this mighty weapon. You shall become the archangel you are destined to become… It is written… without fail… By God's mighty edict, you are born to be one of the mantles to His kingdom… To become the thirteenth warrior…"

"So much to learn; can it be so?"

"You must measure discernment; understand the difference between those that are demons and those that are warriors. A place to the heart is pure and sustains; let this grow to embody all that you are… Empty out all that should not be; let God and Jesus and the Holy Spirit fill in what remains…This, shall be your greatest trial and test; when pressures mount, and temptations perform antics to persuade you with…"

He paused and cupped his elder hand onto Daniel's chest and heart.

"Keep to your heart," he paused; their eyes met in that silence, "the benevolence of your Father; the Holy Spirit reigns, in you… and nothing more can penetrate…"

"And when this is all done, I will be ready?"

"It is written…" the steward firmly promised.

The following periods were of Daniel and this steward spilling out on his training and pursuance; discipline arose, first unforeseen; skills beset and rendered; talents honed and brought precise; his weaponry becoming merely the equal extension of his hands. He grew in lengths and height; ever still with strength to hold up the columns of worlds. The more he performed, the more he displayed. Heaven knows and knew more to this prediction – this was Daniel's destiny.

The heart of a lion reared to new heights; the guardianship coming to be élite; the spirit to evolve and grow complete. Not as he was, but what he is meant to be; the surpassing strengths and powers on many dominions; the lore to hold true, as truth bestows. The handles of a master; with keen eyes engross; to pick out weakness and replace it with opposing grace. Four to five seasoned warrior angels could not sustain, or to counteract the talents such a gift Daniel now owned. He was fearless; relentless thru the motions; the fiery sword cut wind with a storm; fire from Heaven and all, to consume that which stood in his way.

"Will I ever learn to fly?" Daniel was persistent.

"Patience," the steward spoke, "is always a weapon…"

"How can I use it as a weapon," Daniel replied, "if I don't know how to use it?"

"In all stages," he debated, "things will be formed; matters will develop."

"Will I fly?"

"Daniel!" The steward had had enough, "Attend!"

The training continued, in all.

There are no days to nights in Heaven; no elapsed to time; all things happen and nothing at all to occur; nothing to sequence or patterns to flow; all else will be, and it is as it is. But to such matters a moment can behold an hour; an eternity in a fraction of earthly seconds; though to the purpose it is not as a seam in time, but an occurrence of all things in motion within the state and occasion of harmony. Destiny reigns.

Daniel had grown to past ten feet in height; his hands of enormous mass and vice; arms of chiseled pose; legs in power to leap rivers and jump over the arch of many rainbows. He could climb the steepest mountain with the strongest steed; his agility the formula of supreme grace and poetry; now built within a breastplate of pure gold; forearm braces of shimmering blonde leather and thatched gold; a shield that would tremor all of earth in quakes if thrust to its floor; his eyes of tender blue and speckled green with the chiseled face of all handsome angels; blonde, flowing hair which moved with the blows to every wind and current; a capital helmet to mark his regiment and class as an archangel. But by this, of remarkable make and creation, he possessed the scabbard which therein possessed the mightiest of swords – a flaming sword forged by the hand of God.

"You are ready Daniel…" the steward stated with gallant pride.

"You will go with me…"

"My work is done," he smiled in loud fashion, "the rest, is your journey alone…"

"To where?"

"To where God leads…" the steward looked out over the horizon, "yonder there; look for it…" There stood a further pause between them.

"Look for what?"

"Look for him…" the steward felt to be a little short on this.

"Who?"

"Gabriel…" he stalled, "your destiny is there."

"Is he myth," Daniel bent down to look upon him, "or most, of legend?"

"Neither," the steward gazed upward, "The podium of what awaits you is much higher than you can first imagine, young Daniel… Go to it…This comes, and awaits you…"

"Will I see you again?"

"There are no 'goodbyes' in Heaven," he lifted up to hug Daniel one final moment, "but grand eternities for all God's creatures…"

The steward suddenly disappeared.