I held up the stubborn pen and squinted at it: “I know that you’re God’s pen because everything belongs to him,” I said. Late this December evening, neither myself nor my faithful pen seemed to know what to write. My memory of the day held missing time. So I stared into the virgin white page, decided to jot down whatever came to mind, and trust the rest to God’s pen. As I began to write, I had no idea that this would be the most important night of my life.
Earlier that day while lying on my bed, a recurrent visitor I call an “adept” finally chose to accept my gift from Father. Adepts are clusters of flat, two-dimensional black specks who travel alone or in groups ranging from a few inches to many feet across. The specks themselves are triangle or polygon-shaped. They exist on ceilings, walls, and other flat surfaces. I also notice them on dying plants and injured areas on humans and animals. Most people don’t see them. After I asked God for Truth, I did. Adepts aren’t scary, but they can project an energy that makes my heart skip a beat. They do this when they want my attention. It’s not a pleasant feeling, but we’ve established some rapport of late. I believe that the specks seek ascension. And they seem to think that my gift can help them.
Maybe today is the day, I hoped. Same as the two previous afternoons, I held up both hands and waited. I was careful not to point directly at the adept. “You want hands?” I asked aloud. At that, the dark cluster of specks glided across the ceiling toward my position. This was the largest and darkest adept I’d seen—about four feet across. My attention, however, remained fixed on the bright “star” at the center of the cluster. I did my best to love my strange visitor, if only for Father’s sake, for it was he who had gifted my hands with the power to heal.
I was no stranger to the work. Some months earlier I’d got the okay to use my gift with this species. Today, despite the adept’s large size, the healing went as expected. When my hands connected with its intense energy, it felt like touching a wet wall socket. Next, hundreds of tiny threadlike hairs, the longest almost three inches, emerged from my fingers and palms. This is normal for the process. Drawn upward by some unseen force, the thin hairs stretched and quivered in earnest—as if God were sensing the needs of every minute speck. Then I felt the release.
All at once a dozen or so “helper stars” burst from my fingertips. I dropped my hands and watched the little pinpoints of white light enter the mass of specks above me. The helpers fanned out, surrounded the large central star, then promptly escorted it to the rim of the cluster. The instant the star exited, the dark mass vanished.
I didn’t know whether the star had found freedom, or been forcibly evicted. But the way in which it streaked across the ceiling—cutting a wide, graceful arc—conveyed a feeling of joyous thanks. The star grew brighter as it picked up speed. Then plunged into the wall.
Another successful speck healing! I can’t claim that I know all of the details of this process, but it seems that the light in my hands can heal the darkness. I thanked Father for the chance to help the cause, and for encouraging me to love all of my bizarre visitors. My eyes grew heavy while I pondered today’s event. Time for a nap. I closed my eyes.
“Nice job!” my soul exclaimed. Abigale’s sudden praise cheered me. “Now let your mind go blank.”
Easier said than done, I thought to her. But I did my best to comply with my dear one’s instructions. While I laid there, eyes shut, I began to see shifting shapes and colors. The shapes merged and reformed, endlessly creating new shapes and colors. I watched for a time but observed no recognizable patterns. Then, as I drifted off, I heard a murmuring voice. Not my soul’s, but familiar nonetheless.
I stopped writing and stared expectantly at my notebook. Is that all? I remembered nothing beyond the quiet voice. What happened next… what did the voice say? I got up. Perhaps some coffee would help. But just as quickly as I arose, I sat down. The pen and I shared a brief, meaningful connection. I picked it up. Unexpectedly and without my assistance, God’s pen sprang to life.
I am about to show you who I am. What I have to share with you will seem strange. Some of it will frighten you. Know that I have existed for a very long time. I have many, many creations—forms and energies that I use, some that I have used in earlier times. Though they will seem bewildering, and some will create fear in your mind, know that these are my tools. They—are me. They are who and what I am. Who I have become—yes, “become”—through my works.
All is me. Some things were here since the beginning which are not of my making. I used them, wove them into creation, altered their forms and merged them with others to bring about the place which you now know. Do not be afraid. Do not judge me by your human standards, for they cannot be applied to me.
It is through the judgment of me by my children that they can be harmed. Feel pain. This is because, on their own and by themselves, many of my forms and energies can be deadly. It is important for you to understand that I must be known by the whole of my being. Not by my parts.
You are all made in my image. Just as your bodies have organs and systems to remove contaminants and ensure survival, so does mine. It is important that you not become a toxic substance, for my body will eliminate all toxins. These will not be wasted—they will, as I am about to show you, be reformed, merged, and used to further my ongoing creation.
I stared at those last three words, dropped God’s pen, stood up and fell to the floor. Waves of emotion crested then broke: gratitude, love, unworthiness, fear, relief, joy. “Father!” I cried. The waves repeated the same sequence several times. After ten minutes, my face stained with tears, I grew calm. God’s pen caught my eye once more. The best was yet to come.
I answered you when you called. When you said you wanted to forget everything you knew and start again. I asked you a simple question, and though you were half-asleep, your heart provided the correct answer immediately. Had you been fully conscious, you would have answered differently. I tell you this now so that you will know, despite your complaint that you know not. You say that no one tells you anything. You do not need to be told. Remember this.
Now, I will show you everything. You will not remember much of it. But you will remember that I have shared everything with you, my son.
—Andrew Michael, 2013-12-7