The Guardian

Thank you for taking the time to read mine and Erik’s first novel,
The Guardian
. We hope you will be edified and enjoy the story. And that’s just what it is: a story. Erik and I do not, never have, nor will we ever proclaim to be scholars of the book of Revelation, prophets, or anything of the like. We simply were intrigued by a passage of scripture in Revelation that mentioned a little scroll and took note that there was never any more mention of it throughout the rest of the book. Being scatterbrained and creative (to a fault sometimes!), the story almost wrote itself. We do not intend for anyone to read into the story for some cryptic meaning or solution to the book of Revelation. It is merely a fictitious story, one that is focused on Anna Riley’s journey of faith. Nothing more. The scriptures are clear: no one knows the hour except the Father. We’ll leave the decoding of Revelation to others, if they wish. But ultimately, we just yearn for the return of our Savior, whenever God chooses that to be.

—Robbie and Erik

Then I saw another mighty angel coming down from heaven, wrapped in a cloud, with a rainbow over his head, and his face was like the sun, and his legs like pillars of fire. He had a little scroll open in his hand. And he set his right foot on the sea, and his left foot on the land, and called out with a loud voice, like a lion roaring. When he called out, the seven thunders sounded. And when the seven thunders had sounded, I was about to write, but I heard a voice from heaven saying, “Seal up what the seven thunders have said, and do not write it down.” Then the voice that I had heard from heaven spoke to me again, saying, “Go, take the scroll that is open in the hand of the angel who is standing on the sea and on the land.”

R
EVELATION
10: 1-4, 8 Esv

J
ohn came to, finding himself still in his cell—still lying on a cold slab of rock, which sent stiff, cold pain through his lower back. His old age had begun to betray his once healthy, strong body. He was sure that his frail frame would soon give out completely and leave him an invalid. His head throbbed with a mighty headache from the vision. It was the Lord’s day, and he had been praying when it happened. He remembered the last image, as if he were standing there yet, standing at the top of a great mountain, beside a beautiful angel, looking out over a new Jerusalem, with Christ at the throne. His hands trembled and his brow was soaked with sweat. He was both terrified and overjoyed at what he had seen, the beauty of a redeemed creation, the Christ sitting on His throne. John didn’t know how long his vision lasted. All he knew was that he had to write it all down. He had been commanded to do so.

He stood from his bed and walked over to the parchment lying on his table. He took the pen and ink and began to write:

As he wrote, he lost track of himself. The words flowed from his pen like water. Indeed, just as Christ had promised, the Holy Spirit was bringing remembrance of all that had been shown to him.

John immediately stopped writing. His stomach started to churn. What was it? What was this sudden sickness he was feeling? Then he remembered. The angel had told him to eat the scroll. He had. The angel told him it would be sweet like honey to his lips, but would turn sour in his stomach. It had. And now he was feeling the sickness of the scroll in his belly.

John stood and walked back to his bed. He lay down rubbing his stomach which was now violently churning. He felt a moan well up from deep inside of him. He fell to the floor, bent over holding on to the wall and began to cough. Violently cough, and gag. And then he felt it.

John was now scared. He couldn’t breathe. Something blocked his airway. He reached inside his mouth and felt his fingers touch something. He latched onto it and pulled it out. He heaved and gasped for breath as the obstacle dislodged from his throat and fell to the floor below. He knelt down to see a tiny scroll, covered in mucus and stomach acid.

John continued to suck in deep breaths, his lungs burning as the fresh air came in. He tried to stand. He held the tiny scroll in his hands, his fingers trembling as he grasped the corners to open it. Suddenly, the room was enveloped in a blinding white light, causing him to stumble backward. He stopped when he reached his bed, but only because his legs were kicked out from under him by the slab. He found himself sitting again and trying to focus on this great light.

“Do not fear me, John, servant of Christ,” a voice that emanated from the light spoke. “I am Micah, a messenger of the Most High.”

And with that, the bright light dimmed. John removed his hand that shielded his eyes. He recognized this being. It was the angel who had given him the scroll in his vision.

“Greetings from our Lord and Savior, Jesus, the Christ,” Micah said.

“Th–thank you,” John muttered. “And also to you.” The angel continued. “I have been sent here to explain the gift you have been given, John. Its purpose is great.” “Do you mean this scroll?” John asked. “I do,” Micah answered.