Echoes of the Light - The Story of the Life of Jesus Christ as told by the Angels. by Tim Green
of Nazareth.”
Again Peter denied it, and this time he swore, “I don’t even know the man!” Brave bold Peter was now trembling like a coward. He was on the run and needed to make a fast getaway. Yet he was once again recognised by a group of people. They walked over to him and said, “We know that you are one of his disciples.” Peter began to curse and swear and insisted, “I don’t know the man!” Immediately the rooster crowed in the back ground and we angels all heard it. Peter had denied the master three times just like Jesus had foretold in prophesy. Then Peter went out into the night and cried bitterly with deep Godly sorrow from the bottom of his hopeless heart. Once again a man had forsaken his God and failed him bitterly. I have seen men fail and forsake the Lord over the millennia, but I have never seen the Lord God forsake and fail man. He will never leave you nor will he forsake you. He is the unfailing Mighty God of heaven.
Pontius Pilate was the Roman governor over Israel at the time. Michael and I continued to stand at attention before the throne of Almighty God our faces facing one another. Our wings were now pressing tightly against each other. We were stricken with the intense emotion of the moment and the uncertainty of what was about to take place. We continued to watch through heavens open window as we had been commanded to do so by God the Father.
Jesus stood helpless tightly bound in restraints before Pontius Pilate. The mob had beaten Jesus violently with their fists. His face was swollen and marred. There was blood upon his face and clothes. He was led like a lamb to the slaughter by the elders and chief priests. Pontius Pilate inspected Jesus like a high priest would inspect a sacrificial lamb for blemishes. “Say something,” commanded Pontius Pilate, “Do you not know that I have the power to have you crucified?” Jesus calmly lifted up his eyes and looked straight into Pontius Pilate’s face and answered, “You would have no power over me, if it were not given to you from my Father in heaven above.” Pontius Pilate tried to remain calm. He wasn’t going to give the impression that he was out of control. Roman rulers were supposed to be strong in character and be in control. “They have accused you of being the King of the Jews. Are you the King of the Jews?” asked Pilate curiously. “You have said it,” replied Jesus as he looked confidently into Pilate’s questioning face.
Pontius Pilate continued arrogantly, “If you are a King, then you must have a kingdom?” Jesus was not threatened at all by Pilate’s questions. He knew that it was the will of his Father in heaven to be inspected as the Lamb of God. He was confident that his heart was pure and that he was without sin. He truthfully replied, “My kingdom is not of this world, if it were, you would have no power over me.” I paused for a moment as the words of Jesus took a hold of my heart. I realized that no man could ever have power over God Almighty. Pontius Pilate laughed as he said, “This man is a dreamer, take him away and have him flogged with a whip. Maybe that will wake him up to face reality.”
The Roman soldiers then detained Jesus according to the will of his Father in heaven. They led him away to be beaten as Pilate had instructed. The elders and the chief priests sheepishly entered Pilate’s chambers. They were wolves disguising themselves in sheep’s clothing. They were not satisfied with Pilate simply having Jesus flogged.
They wanted him dead. “I find nothing wrong with this Jesus of Nazareth. What has he done that is so evil that you have brought him to me for me to condemn him to death,” asked Pilate inquisitively. The chief Priest answered hastily, “According to our laws he has sinned. He has claimed to be the Son of God and the King of the Jews.”
Pontius Pilate paced up and down in deep thought pondering about how he was going to deal with the volatile situation. He had a decision to make about the destiny of Jesus of Nazareth. So he attempted to defuse the situation. “In my view, this man is just a harmless dreamer,” said Pilate, “I see him as no threat to Rome.”
“But according to our law he must die” replied the chief priests. Then Pontius Pilate made an unusual decision. There was an ancient custom that gave the governor authority to release a prisoner in honour of the Passover. The elders and priests raised their voices and protested against Pilate’s decision, “But procurator, he has sinned against Rome.” The elders and chief priests were adamant and passionately protested against Pilate’s decision. “Silence, Rome has spoken,” shout Pilate as anger and frustration gripped hold of him.
There were two prisoners, Jesus of Nazareth and a murderer by the name of Barabbas. Pilate was going to honour the Jewish feast of Passover by releasing one of their prisoners. He would let the people decide which prisoner they wanted him to release. The elders and chief priests were not going to stop their pursuit until Jesus dead. So they plotted to influence the crowd. They sent messengers to walk among the people and demand that they shout for Barabbas and not Jesus.
Michael and I were no longer standing at attention before the throne. We were on our knees, our wings covering one another’s backs. Our foreheads tightly rested upon each other almost fusing ourselves together as one. We had given up waiting for God the Father to send us to go and rescue Jesus from the brutal soldiers. God the Father never spoke a word nor did he blink an eyelid. I could see that God the Father had a lump in his throat.
He watched as the Roman soldiers whipped Jesus again and again with a flagellum. The sharp metal and bone pieces on the whip cut through his sinews and muscles, ripping the flesh on his back into threads. The echo of the whip could be heard throughout the palace. The blood of Jesus began to flow. It ran down his back and legs and onto the ground. Jesus cried out with a loud cry as the pain became too unbearable for him to bear. Michael and I agree that no man ever deserves to be beaten like Jesus was beaten.
All the Seraphim, the smaller angels in Heaven covered their sorrowful faces. They could not bear the burden of watching any longer. The throne room of Almighty God had become deadly silent. We angels had all seen enough and could no longer bear to watch another painful blow. “Send me my Lord I beg you, send me to rescue him. Just give me the command,” asked Michael with urgency. “I cannot allow it,” replied God the Father, “just watch with me. My heart is just as overwhelmed as yours.
If it becomes too unbearable for you to watch, then bow down and cover your face with your wings.” Michael pressed his entire face against mine and held me tightly with his wings. Michael realized that he had come close to stepping over the line of insubordination. The dominant tone in God the Fathers voice made Michael re-evaluate his actions and sudden outburst.
Although the record books in heaven were closed and sealed I could remember a lot of their content. Suddenly the words of Isaiah the prophet jumped up from deep within my spirit. I began to recall that ancient prophesy that was dramatically exhaled by the passionate prophet, “He was wounded for our transgressions. He was bruised for our iniquities. Our punishment was upon him and by his stripes you are healed.” That’s when I understood why God the Father was allowing Jesus to be wounded, bruised and stricken. Every painful blow and every stricken stripe was for the healing of all mankind. He was being beaten and stricken in their place as a substitute.
God the Father was making a way for all mankind to be restored back to their original formation. At the place of death God Almighty was going to destroy him who held the power of death, that is the devil. I held Michael tightly with my wings and gently whispered, “It’s going to be alright. Its part of heavens blueprint to restore the earth back to its original state.” Michael released his tight grip on me. He retracted his tightly knitted face from mine and confidently looked deeply into my eyes, touching my soul. He drew strength and understanding from me.
The Blood began to flow.
Gabriel had inspired me greatly. He knew the writing of the scriptures in the eternal books before the throne better than what I did as he had written them. I, Michael the archangel of war after being comforted by Gabriel stood straight up upon my feet, leaving Gabriel on his knees. I had broken the pattern of his wings as they were still embracing me before I sud
denly stood to my feet. Gabriel followed suit when he detected the change in my emotional status. God the Father made a gesture towards us with his powerful hand to remain calm and still. “Watch with me,” he said calmly. Gabriel and I simultaneously bowed our heads before him in agreement. Once again we looked with the Father of Glory through heavens open window.
The Roman soldiers had stricken Jesus with thirty nine lashes upon his back. His organs were exposed due to the ripping away of his flesh as the flagellum tore it from his back. The Son of God was bleeding heavily and uncontrollably. “I have a crown, for our new King!” shouted a soldier. He had cut a branch from a thorn tree and had carefully woven it into a crown. They heavily pressed the crown of thorns down upon his head and began to mock him, “Hail, King of the Jews.” The poisonous thorns began to burn the skull of Jesus. The Roman soldiers wrapped a purple robe around Jesus in mockery. They began to hail him again and again as king. They began to harshly slap him in his already beaten face. His
Again Peter denied it, and this time he swore, “I don’t even know the man!” Brave bold Peter was now trembling like a coward. He was on the run and needed to make a fast getaway. Yet he was once again recognised by a group of people. They walked over to him and said, “We know that you are one of his disciples.” Peter began to curse and swear and insisted, “I don’t know the man!” Immediately the rooster crowed in the back ground and we angels all heard it. Peter had denied the master three times just like Jesus had foretold in prophesy. Then Peter went out into the night and cried bitterly with deep Godly sorrow from the bottom of his hopeless heart. Once again a man had forsaken his God and failed him bitterly. I have seen men fail and forsake the Lord over the millennia, but I have never seen the Lord God forsake and fail man. He will never leave you nor will he forsake you. He is the unfailing Mighty God of heaven.
Pontius Pilate was the Roman governor over Israel at the time. Michael and I continued to stand at attention before the throne of Almighty God our faces facing one another. Our wings were now pressing tightly against each other. We were stricken with the intense emotion of the moment and the uncertainty of what was about to take place. We continued to watch through heavens open window as we had been commanded to do so by God the Father.
Jesus stood helpless tightly bound in restraints before Pontius Pilate. The mob had beaten Jesus violently with their fists. His face was swollen and marred. There was blood upon his face and clothes. He was led like a lamb to the slaughter by the elders and chief priests. Pontius Pilate inspected Jesus like a high priest would inspect a sacrificial lamb for blemishes. “Say something,” commanded Pontius Pilate, “Do you not know that I have the power to have you crucified?” Jesus calmly lifted up his eyes and looked straight into Pontius Pilate’s face and answered, “You would have no power over me, if it were not given to you from my Father in heaven above.” Pontius Pilate tried to remain calm. He wasn’t going to give the impression that he was out of control. Roman rulers were supposed to be strong in character and be in control. “They have accused you of being the King of the Jews. Are you the King of the Jews?” asked Pilate curiously. “You have said it,” replied Jesus as he looked confidently into Pilate’s questioning face.
Pontius Pilate continued arrogantly, “If you are a King, then you must have a kingdom?” Jesus was not threatened at all by Pilate’s questions. He knew that it was the will of his Father in heaven to be inspected as the Lamb of God. He was confident that his heart was pure and that he was without sin. He truthfully replied, “My kingdom is not of this world, if it were, you would have no power over me.” I paused for a moment as the words of Jesus took a hold of my heart. I realized that no man could ever have power over God Almighty. Pontius Pilate laughed as he said, “This man is a dreamer, take him away and have him flogged with a whip. Maybe that will wake him up to face reality.”
The Roman soldiers then detained Jesus according to the will of his Father in heaven. They led him away to be beaten as Pilate had instructed. The elders and the chief priests sheepishly entered Pilate’s chambers. They were wolves disguising themselves in sheep’s clothing. They were not satisfied with Pilate simply having Jesus flogged.
They wanted him dead. “I find nothing wrong with this Jesus of Nazareth. What has he done that is so evil that you have brought him to me for me to condemn him to death,” asked Pilate inquisitively. The chief Priest answered hastily, “According to our laws he has sinned. He has claimed to be the Son of God and the King of the Jews.”
Pontius Pilate paced up and down in deep thought pondering about how he was going to deal with the volatile situation. He had a decision to make about the destiny of Jesus of Nazareth. So he attempted to defuse the situation. “In my view, this man is just a harmless dreamer,” said Pilate, “I see him as no threat to Rome.”
“But according to our law he must die” replied the chief priests. Then Pontius Pilate made an unusual decision. There was an ancient custom that gave the governor authority to release a prisoner in honour of the Passover. The elders and priests raised their voices and protested against Pilate’s decision, “But procurator, he has sinned against Rome.” The elders and chief priests were adamant and passionately protested against Pilate’s decision. “Silence, Rome has spoken,” shout Pilate as anger and frustration gripped hold of him.
There were two prisoners, Jesus of Nazareth and a murderer by the name of Barabbas. Pilate was going to honour the Jewish feast of Passover by releasing one of their prisoners. He would let the people decide which prisoner they wanted him to release. The elders and chief priests were not going to stop their pursuit until Jesus dead. So they plotted to influence the crowd. They sent messengers to walk among the people and demand that they shout for Barabbas and not Jesus.
Michael and I were no longer standing at attention before the throne. We were on our knees, our wings covering one another’s backs. Our foreheads tightly rested upon each other almost fusing ourselves together as one. We had given up waiting for God the Father to send us to go and rescue Jesus from the brutal soldiers. God the Father never spoke a word nor did he blink an eyelid. I could see that God the Father had a lump in his throat.
He watched as the Roman soldiers whipped Jesus again and again with a flagellum. The sharp metal and bone pieces on the whip cut through his sinews and muscles, ripping the flesh on his back into threads. The echo of the whip could be heard throughout the palace. The blood of Jesus began to flow. It ran down his back and legs and onto the ground. Jesus cried out with a loud cry as the pain became too unbearable for him to bear. Michael and I agree that no man ever deserves to be beaten like Jesus was beaten.
All the Seraphim, the smaller angels in Heaven covered their sorrowful faces. They could not bear the burden of watching any longer. The throne room of Almighty God had become deadly silent. We angels had all seen enough and could no longer bear to watch another painful blow. “Send me my Lord I beg you, send me to rescue him. Just give me the command,” asked Michael with urgency. “I cannot allow it,” replied God the Father, “just watch with me. My heart is just as overwhelmed as yours.
If it becomes too unbearable for you to watch, then bow down and cover your face with your wings.” Michael pressed his entire face against mine and held me tightly with his wings. Michael realized that he had come close to stepping over the line of insubordination. The dominant tone in God the Fathers voice made Michael re-evaluate his actions and sudden outburst.
Although the record books in heaven were closed and sealed I could remember a lot of their content. Suddenly the words of Isaiah the prophet jumped up from deep within my spirit. I began to recall that ancient prophesy that was dramatically exhaled by the passionate prophet, “He was wounded for our transgressions. He was bruised for our iniquities. Our punishment was upon him and by his stripes you are healed.” That’s when I understood why God the Father was allowing Jesus to be wounded, bruised and stricken. Every painful blow and every stricken stripe was for the healing of all mankind. He was being beaten and stricken in their place as a substitute.
God the Father was making a way for all mankind to be restored back to their original formation. At the place of death God Almighty was going to destroy him who held the power of death, that is the devil. I held Michael tightly with my wings and gently whispered, “It’s going to be alright. Its part of heavens blueprint to restore the earth back to its original state.” Michael released his tight grip on me. He retracted his tightly knitted face from mine and confidently looked deeply into my eyes, touching my soul. He drew strength and understanding from me.
The Blood began to flow.
Gabriel had inspired me greatly. He knew the writing of the scriptures in the eternal books before the throne better than what I did as he had written them. I, Michael the archangel of war after being comforted by Gabriel stood straight up upon my feet, leaving Gabriel on his knees. I had broken the pattern of his wings as they were still embracing me before I sud
The Roman soldiers had stricken Jesus with thirty nine lashes upon his back. His organs were exposed due to the ripping away of his flesh as the flagellum tore it from his back. The Son of God was bleeding heavily and uncontrollably. “I have a crown, for our new King!” shouted a soldier. He had cut a branch from a thorn tree and had carefully woven it into a crown. They heavily pressed the crown of thorns down upon his head and began to mock him, “Hail, King of the Jews.” The poisonous thorns began to burn the skull of Jesus. The Roman soldiers wrapped a purple robe around Jesus in mockery. They began to hail him again and again as king. They began to harshly slap him in his already beaten face. His