Satan clenched his fists in frustrated wrath. How many times had he come here before? How many times had he been humiliated in front of these poor excuses for angels? “Your creation suffers,” he said, spitting out the words in fury. “It suffers still even after you tricked me at Golgotha. Do what you will, but I have the last laugh. They suffer and you can do nothing.”
The Voice spoke again and in spite of its thunder, there was a sense of sadness. “You know as well as all that with freedom and choice comes the potential of revolt and loss. All are tested, even Myself.”
“They think you don’t care.”
“Not a sparrow falls without My knowing.”
Satan leered into the Light. “But they fall nonetheless.”
“And they fall into My Hand.”
With that, a gigantic hand—its fingers closed securely—materialized from the Light. It opened and a small sparrow, bright and redeemed flew into the Throne Room.
(from Fallen Angels and Fallen Sparrows copyright to Alan Loewen)