The Life Elysian. Translated into Simplified “Modern English”. Chapter Five. The Angel of Death.

There is order, purpose, and progression in the afterlife. I have tried to emphasize this, in contrast to the common belief that souls in Heaven will spend eternity singing "Holy, holy, holy" while playing golden harps. But do not assume, on the other hand, that I mean Heaven is only about work, study, and intellectual growth. That idea would be just as wrong.

The two worlds—earth and Heaven—are so different that it is impossible to fully imagine the higher while still living in the lower. If you struggle to understand this, try picturing a life where there is no concept of time, no exhaustion, and no financial worries.

Then go further—remove the possibility of disappointment, failure, or shattered dreams. Now, take away scandal, misrepresentation, and jealousy.

I could continue listing all the negative things that do not exist in Heaven, but if you can truly grasp just these few, they already paint a picture of a paradise worth longing for.

But that is only the beginning. Beyond these freedoms, Heaven offers the positive joys—reunions with loved ones, rewards for a life well-lived, expanded abilities, and countless wonders beyond anything we have imagined. When we consider all of this, we can only stand in awe and say, "It is too great for me to comprehend!"

Life in Heaven is a perfect balance between joy and purpose, duty and recreation, service and pleasure. Imagine a world where every hardship is gone. Imagine every desire of your heart fulfilled beyond your wildest dreams.

Take the greatest love you have ever known—pure, selfless, and devoted—and expand it infinitely until it embraces all of humanity with that same intensity.

This is the family life of Heaven, where all are united as one.

Yes! Pause and reflect. But no matter how much you think about it; you cannot fully grasp it. The ocean is greater than a teacup, and the sky is far bigger than a balloon. In the same way, the greatest human understanding falls short of measuring the vastness of Paradise.

Still, Heaven is love, joy, and peace, in their fullest and most perfect form.

This life is now mine—and will soon be yours. But I want to speak of it to bring you comfort and encouragement on your journey.

Among the many joys of this bright and happy land, one of the sweetest moments is when we hear that someone new is about to join our group. And like everything else here, this excitement never fades, no matter how often it happens.

Let me share one of my first experiences of this kind.

Vaone and I were with a large gathering in one of the many breathtaking retreats within our beautiful valley. We were sharing memories of our past lives, reflecting on how each event led us to this place. Every so often, someone would sing one of the old familiar hymns, using it to express their thoughts—just as I could describe that moment with the well-known lines:

“There on a green and flowery mount

Our weary souls shall sit,

And with transporting joys recount

The labours of our feet.”

This was a deeper happiness than I had ever imagined, far beyond anything I could have hoped for or even dared to expect.

All the struggles, burdens, and sorrows of life were over. Every soul in that gathering had been restored and refreshed from the weariness of their earthly journey. But instead of complaining about the difficulties they had faced; each one could now clearly see the purpose behind every hardship—the hidden guidance leading them to this beautiful reality.

It nourished my soul to hear their stories—stories of people who had come here from lives filled with suffering, pain, and struggle, yet all of them shared the same realization:

“In all their afflictions, He was afflicted,And the angel of His presence saved them;In His love and in His pity, He redeemed them;And He bore them and carried them all the days of old.”

Oh, these afterthoughts—these great revelations of Paradise! How the soul thrills under the light of such understanding! How the heart grieves for the blindness and ignorance of our past days on earth!

As I listened, my spirit soared higher, and I felt as though I were standing on the very threshold of Heaven itself.

Suddenly, it felt as if the temperature had risen, bringing with it a noticeable surge of joy. It happened in a moment of silence, and the whole gathering burst into expressions of delight.

I turned to Vaone and asked, “What is happening?”

“We are about to welcome a new member into our family,” she replied.

“Who is it? When will they arrive?” I asked eagerly.

“We will find out very soon,” she assured me. Then she explained that as soon as a newly arriving soul is assigned to a particular group, the group receives an early sense of their approach. She was still explaining when Arvez arrived with news.

“Our new member is a boy, and some of our group already know him,” he said.

Then, turning to me, he added with a smile, “And he’s not entirely a stranger to you either.”

“Who is it?” I asked with growing curiosity.

“You remember the little boy I took from the College?”

“Limpy Jack? Yes, of course.”

“Do you also remember his friend—the one who promised to look after him until it was his time to come?”

“Yes, perfectly.”

“Well, it is him. I am now going to the College to bring him here. Would you like to join me?”

“I would love to.”

There was no need to make a special announcement to the group. Everyone already understood the process of welcoming new members, and as we set off to bring the boy, the others began making preparations for his arrival.

As we walked, Arvez turned to me with a teasing question:

“Well, have you finally run out of surprises?”

I laughed. “I think that is one of the few things that is truly impossible in this life.”

“You would do well to accept that surprises are a natural part of existence here,” he said. “God is so infinitely beyond our understanding that we will always be in awe of His unfolding wonders. We will never fully grasp His ways, my brother—and so, He will always have something new to amaze us.”

"Even you?" I asked.

Arvez sighed. "Ah, Aphraar! Not only me, but I have no doubt that even the angel closest to Him is just as surprised as we are.

"I think Myhanene is right when he says, ‘God is always beyond our understanding.’"

"Then how can we truly know Him?"

"By becoming more like Him. The closer we grow to Him, the more we will understand."

"But if knowing more only makes us realize how much we don’t know, then what?"

"Then we will still be more like Him, and that will have to be enough."

I couldn’t think of a way to continue that discussion, so I turned my attention back to Arvez’s mission.

"Is the boy you’re going to see coming over right away?" I asked.

"No. I’m just bringing him for a preparatory visit."

"Is he sick?"

"I don’t think so, but our instructions are never detailed. I’ll learn more when I see him."

"Does he know you’re coming?"

"No. These visits are never announced beforehand."

"Do you remember how upset he was when you took little Jack away?"

"Yes, and I’ve seen him experience that same disappointment many times since then. Poor boy—his life has been particularly hard, I believe."

I sighed. "I wish we could take them all away," I said, thinking of all those who would be left behind, feeling the pain of loss while only one would find happiness.

"So do I," Arvez agreed. "If doing so would actually change that part of life. But the way the world is now, even if we took the entire colony at ‘The College,’ they wouldn’t be missed."

"Doesn’t that thought ever discourage you in your work?" I asked.

"No. Why should it?" Arvez replied. "As long as the wrong that causes this suffering exists, it is more important than ever that we remain steadfast in helping those who suffer. If we gave up, where would their hope be?"

As we spoke, we crossed the boundary between the spiritual and sleep states. For the first time, I became aware of the transition. The bright light gradually faded into twilight, and the air in this lower region had a raw, slightly uncomfortable chill.

Here, we encountered another of Arvez’s fellow servants guiding a woman who was clearly reluctant to follow. My friend immediately noticed her hesitation and, with genuine kindness, stopped to speak with them.

"Life’s harvest has ripened early for my sister," he greeted her warmly.

"Too early—far too early," she responded tearfully. "For love’s sake, listen to me! I beg you, let me stay for my child! I cannot leave him just as he is born. Spare me for his sake. Or if not, let him come with me."

"The love of God is greater and more tender than even a mother’s love," Arvez said gently. "Whatever is best, He will surely ordain. Do not be afraid—He is with you, and all will be well."

"But God feels so far away. Did He not give me my child? Why would He take me away from him now?"

"Because He sees and understands what we cannot. He makes no mistakes, and whatever He does is for the good of both of you."

"It will not be well if I have to leave my child. No, no! I cannot go! Please, do not ask me!"

"I am not asking anything of you, my sister," her guide replied. "But those who watch over you, as the eyes of the Lord, have foreseen the weakness of the flesh and know that you will be forced to leave. It is your body that will let you go; I have been sent to lead you to a place of rest, where you will regain your strength. Then you will be able to return and be even more to your child than if you had stayed. You do not yet know God, or you would trust Him. But I will take you to someone who will show you what He is like, and before you part from your child, you will be at peace with leaving him in God’s care."

"I was left, just as you fear your little one will be," I said, hoping my words might comfort her.

"Left without a mother’s love and care?" she asked.

"Yes. My mother died when I was born. I never knew her until I met her here, and all my life I grieved for that loss. But now I see that it was for the best."

"Better to lose her?"

"Yes. Much better. I understand now, and both of us thank God for what I once mourned for forty years."

"Can I see your mother?" she asked.

"Yes," Arvez answered. "You shall be brought together if you wish. But where you are going, you will meet others who have had similar experiences. They will help you see how tenderly and wisely God cares for all His children. They will show you that your fears of separation are unfounded and reveal God’s love in ways you do not yet imagine."

"And will I be able to go back to my child?"

"Yes. You will return several times. As long as your body can receive you, you will be free to come and go. In the meantime, you will meet new friends," her guide explained, "so that when the time comes for you to leave permanently, it will be without regret or fear."

"Without regret or fear—are you sure of that?" she asked hesitantly.

"Only those who have committed great wrongs and seek to escape the justice of their sins regret or fear to enter this life," he answered. "And you are not one of them, or else I would not have been sent to bring you here."

As he comforted her, she was quietly carried across the boundary into the higher state, where the natural assurance of God’s great and unfailing love reinforced the words meant to help her accept the inevitable. This was the most painful case I had yet seen of the resistance shown by some professing Christians when faced with the reality of death.

That moment of departure is a true test of the soul’s understanding of God and Christ, revealing the true depth of their faith. It is easy, under the stirring effect of an emotional sermon about the glories of heaven, to join in a hymn and sing:

"Filled with delight, my raptured soulCan here no longer stay;Though Jordan’s waves around me rollFearless I’d launch away."

But after the benediction, when the congregation has gone home and the night is still, when the soul stands alone before the messenger of death—when the emotion has faded and the reality sets in—when the profession of faith must be matched by action, and the earth begins to slip away—that is the moment that tests the power of faith. That is when the true strength of belief is revealed, and for many, surface faith gives way to paralyzing fear. The foolish virgins in the parable are far more numerous than the wise when the call comes to meet the Bridegroom.

This encounter gave me much to think about. Once the woman’s grief had softened, I turned away to continue my journey to The College, not wanting my presence to interfere with the work of Arvez and his companion.

One who comes to offer them a new life free from suffering and neglect. The contrast between them and those who fear death, despite professing faith, is striking.

In Paradise, we do not face the difficulties and inconveniences of travel as on earth. If our destination is within our spiritual reach or we have a rightful mission to fulfill, our desire itself becomes the means of transportation. Whether by instant travel or a slower journey, we reach our goal without trouble.

So, I moved from my companions to The College, knowing that Arvez would soon join me there. As I travelled, I reflected on the stark difference I was about to witness—the reluctance of a Christian to leave earth, compared to the eager anticipation of a neglected street child to be freed from its hardships.

This was not a matter of speculation for me. I had seen it many times before and knew what to expect.

When Arvez arrived, I knew that some of the boys would quietly step back, feeling content with the opportunities life still offered them. But the majority would eagerly step forward, hoping he would choose them. How I wished the whole world could witness the pure joy of these abandoned children as they stood before someone who had come to bring them hope and a better life beyond earth.

THE ANGEL OF DEATH

I stood in the room with the children—The playroom they use while they sleep,

Where the souls of the lucky ones gather

With the less fortunate children who weep.

The sleep-room, the joy-room, the Lord has given,

Just halfway between this earth and heaven.

The children were simply children—nothing more.

While there, all were rich—none were poor.

The prince and the outcast stood side by side,

Until an angel appeared at the door.

Man's outcasts cried out in greeting,

“All Hail! "But the rich ones shrank back, fearful and pale.

The street children ran toward him, "Is it me? Is it my turn now? "

But the fortunate children stayed silent,

Content to remain somehow.

The angel—God’s angel—looked round with a smile.

He had come for a child—to take one for a while.

“Take me, Mister Angel! Please take me!”

“No, take me! Isn’t it my turn to go?

” They crowded around him, eager and bright,

Unfazed by his iron-crowned brow.

That angel—God’s angel—who is he, I pray?

He is the angel of death—the angel of day.

Several of the boys recognized me, and some even associated my presence with Arvez, eagerly asking if he was coming. Since it wasn’t my place to make an announcement, I avoided answering and looked around for the boy I was especially interested in. I soon spotted him and, patting his head, asked if his friend Jack had kept the promise, I had heard him make—to visit "The College" and tell them about his new life.

He looked up at me with a quick, defensive glance. He was too loyal to his friend to allow even the slightest doubt.

“Why, ‘a course he did,” he answered. “Don’t he come ‘ere almost every night?” Then, with a heartfelt touch of emotion, he added, “I only wish ‘e didn’t ‘ave to come ‘ere again!”

“Why? Don’t you like seeing him now?” I asked.

“Yes, that’s just it. I wanna go to ‘im—be with ‘im, live with ‘im, and never come back again. But I don’t think that angel-bloke is ever gonna come for me.”

“But he has to come sometime,” I replied, half tempted to tell him what I knew. “You must try to be patient and brave while you wait. Maybe it won’t be as long as you think.”

At that moment, the curtain was drawn aside, and Arvez entered to the wild excitement of most of the boys. The way they rushed toward him reminded me of children at a school fair scrambling to reach a table of treats or prizes.

My little friend, however, remained calmly by my side, taking things more philosophically than usual. Maybe the repeated disappointments of his hopes were weighing on him, or perhaps our conversation had affected him. Whatever the reason, he simply watched the others crowd around Arvez and muttered:

“I wonder who ‘e’s gonna take this time? But there ain’t no chance it’s gonna be me.”

Arvez gently made his way through the excited crowd, patting one boy on the head, kissing another, and offering kind words to a third.

Imagine it—he was an angel bringing the message of death, and every boy around him was eager to accept it for himself. Think about that, you who live in fear of death! These children welcomed him, felt disappointed when he passed them by, and stretched out their hands hopefully, wishing he had come for them. A man whom children love cannot be entirely bad—so there must be something good in death.

“ ‘E’s comin’ for you!” my companion whispered as Arvez continued toward us.

I said nothing. I couldn’t trust myself to speak without revealing the secret. Instead, I looked away, smiling at the scene.

“Well, I’m blowed! Doan’ ‘e want nobody?” my friend muttered, growing more anxious. Then, with a sigh of resignation, he added, “Oh, I know! ‘E wants somebody what ain’t ‘ere.”

By then, Arvez had reached us, and we were surrounded by the excited children.

“Are you tired of waiting for me, Dandy?” he asked, resting his hand gently on the boy’s head.

The little haggard face flushed with sudden hope.

“But it ain’t me yer come for, is it, Angel?” he asked hesitantly.

Arvez didn’t answer with words. Instead, he lifted the boy into his arms and kissed him.

No other reply was needed.

"I'm so glad!" the boy said, resting his weary head on the angel's shoulder. "I just wish you could take all the others too."

Dear, loving soul—even in the first moment of his own great joy, he felt sorrow that his friends couldn't share in it.

"I will come back for them soon," Arvez assured him. "Many are almost ready, and the last will not have long to wait."

Then came the usual farewells—congratulations, requests, promises, and reassurances, just as I had heard so many times before. After that, Arvez held the boy close to his heart, and we took our leave.