Angel Of God

I am an angel who has watched over Him since Bethlehem, since Egypt, since Nazareth. I stood guard at the cave where He was born, I shielded Him as a Child in exile, and now—now I watch Him ride humbly into the city that will crown Him with thorns.

He looks so calm. So resolute.

But I feel the heaviness pressing in, the sorrow that ripples unseen beneath the palm branches and cries of “Hosanna.” They don’t know. They do not see the cup He is about to drink, though He sees it clearly. He always has.

Part of me wants to cry out, to command the winds and shake the stones—to reveal His glory so they will understand. To stop this path before it grows too dark.

But I cannot.

Because He chose this. And I am in awe.

Even knowing the pain ahead, He smiles at the children waving branches. Even now, He meets their eyes with love. Even now, His mercy pours out.

I wish I could weep, but I cannot. Not yet. My place is to watch, to protect what little I still can, and to be ready—ready to strengthen Him in the Garden when His humanity trembles. Ready to sing in silence when the nails fall. Ready to stand by the empty tomb.

But here, in this moment, I am still.

And I marvel.

Because the King of Heaven is riding toward His throne—on a donkey. And this is how He begins His victory. Not in vengeance.

But in love.