First of all, I believe in angels because that's what I was taught to believe, not so much as in formal training as in lifestyle training. My father was a minister of the gospel of Jesus Christ for fifty seven years when he passed away in 1992.  So angels, from a Biblical perspective, have always been a part of my life. We didn't discuss them, probably didn't spend too much time thinking about them. But we always knew they were there. 

One of my mother's favorite sayings is, "Whenever I get into my car, I call on the holy angels to go with me - to be above me, below me, beside me, in front of me and behind me." 

And does she ever believe!   One day she was asked to minister at a small country church. She was running late as the weather was extremely bad with thick fog and darkness settling in all around her. The roads were slick and driving was hazardous. She had searched in vain for the church sign which had become invisible in the thick darkness.  Knowing they were expecting her, she would not turn around and go home. 

Instead she prayed, "Lord, I know you know where that Church is. And if you want me there, you'll have to show me." 

Suddenly her car's steering wheel was jerked from her hands and the car lurched to the right.  She slammed on her brakes, momentarily frightened, and glanced into the rear view mirror to see if any other cars had been behind her. No cars were in sight. Yet, there shining in the brake lights of her car, was the nearly concealed church sign! 

Mom says an angel took control of her car.  I believe her. 

Another time she and my Dad were driving to somewhere when a big logging truck turned right across the road in front of them.  Dad was behind the wheel. Mom closed her eyes and cried out, "Lord, help us!" A tremendous force took hold of the car and slung it to the upper side of the truck.  Neither she nor my Dad know how the car got around that truck, but they both believe their guardian, protective angels did the work when she called on the Lord. 

Then there was the time we had little to eat in our house.  Dad's pastoral salary had been very small because the church was in a building program. For weeks, our daily fare consisted of potatoes and corn meal cooked in various ways.  Finally the supply of potatoes ran out and Mom said to Dad, "If the Lord doesn't send us more potatoes, I don't know what we'll do." 

Dad replied, "The Lord will provide." 

Later on that afternoon, there was a knock at our front door. When Mom opened the door a well dressed lady stood there - a stranger to us. 

"I was at the Farmer's Market," she said, "And something told me you folks could use this bag of potatoes."   She had brought us a fifty pound bag of potatoes! We stared in amazement at the shining, new car the woman was driving as she drove away.. 

A bit overwhelmed by the act of kindness from a stranger, Mom felt she had not thanked her properly so she started searching for the woman in the neighborhood where we lived. No one knew of her. We never saw her again. 

Was she an angel? Perhaps. Probably. Mom is convinced she was.  I was about twelve years old at the time, but I still remember thinking, "Why didn't Mom ask the Lord for fried chicken?" 

Are you beginning to see why I believe in angels?  Yet even the occurences I have recounted do not touch the root source of my belief.  I believe in angels because God's Word, the Holy Bible, tells me they are real, giving numerous accounts of angelic activity in the lives of people on earth.   Angels, according to the Bible, are servants of God. Their ministry to mankind is external and physical. They are sent to help us in time of need, to protect us, to inform us. We do not have to research them, name them, pray to them or recite incantations to invoke their aid. They do so at the command and bidding of God.  As His servants, they may be SENT in answer to prayer, but it is God who hears and answers us. 

So to put it simply. I believe in angels because I believe the Word of God. 
 

Note:  My mother, Cora Stover, passed from this life to rest with the Lord on February 25, 1999.  When I wrote this, she was still with me.  I miss her more than you can know, but I know where she is.  And someday, I will be with her again.