I was listening to Christmas carols one day.

And I was inspired to write a story that connects Christmas and Easter. I asked myself, what would the mood in Heaven be like at both points?

And here's what came out of that. I call it "The Prequel".

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The cavernous halls were abuzz with whispered voices and animated conversations alike. Excited speculation had spread like wildfire as saintly citizens attempted to guess what was in the works, adding their two cents to the various debates scattered throughout the halls.

David listened quietly as he stood with the famous boatman and the great friend of the Almighty and listened to their conversation.

“What do you think Yahweh is planning?” asked Noah.

“Who knows?” replied Abraham, forefinger at his lips. “The Almighty has always had a knack for divine mysteriousness.”

Noah smiled wryly. “Come now, Abe. Do you mean to say that He has not told even you?”

David noticed a twinkle in Abraham’s eye and chuckled. “Oh, don’t tease him, Noah. Whatever the Lord decides to reveal, He will reveal in His own good time. Don’t you worry— when the time comes, we will all know what’s going on. Oh! Look!”

A tall figure with a focused look in his eye walked passed them, seemingly heading straight to a decided destination. He was dressed in white robes that moved and flowed with each stride. The belt around his waist shone and reflected any light it caught. The crowded hall noticed him, and a new flame of discussion burst forth.

“It’s Gabriel!” whispered Noah.

“If one such as he has been called into the Holy of Holies, then there is a divine plot afoot,” said Abraham with a knowing smile.

They watched in silence as the angelic host took resolute strides, ignoring everyone. No one misconstrued it as rudeness but realized that urgency pressed him onward, and made way.

As Abraham returned to his conversation with Noah about what exactly the fuss was all about, David looked on after Gabriel. He felt a stirring within him, as if this news would prove momentous to him in some way. He silently stole away from Noah and Abraham, and walked after Gabriel. The Messenger was a good distance away, and David took large strides to catch up.

“You know that only I have been called, David,” Gabriel called out without stopping or turning around.

David finally caught up and walked beside him. “Yes, Gabriel, I realize that. But when one of the Cherubim is called to the Throne, you can’t blame us for being curious. And not just any host, but you the Messenger, which means the Lord has words for one on Earth. Moreover, I feel a stirring—”

“Ah yes, the stirring. The Spirit touches you too.”

David had walked a few more steps before he realized that the angel had stopped in his tracks. “What do you mean, Gabriel?”

“You are not the only one who has asked those of the host why they have felt a rousing of the Spirit,” the angel said, smiling.

“Oh?”

“If you had pressed him, I am certain Abraham would have told you he senses what you do. As do his sons, of whom you are one if I remember correctly.”

The angel continued walking and David followed. ‘What could this mean?’ he thought. He suddenly realized it seemed that those who felt the stirring were of the same lineage, ancestor and descendant alike. When it involved a plan of the Almighty, significance such as this was no coincidence. He found himself wondering who his current earthly descendants were and whether they felt as he did.

They finally reached the immense door of the Holy Halls leading to the throne room, and Gabriel turned to him. “For now, you can go no further. But do not let curiosity overtake you. You of all people know that Elohim’s plans will be revealed at the right time.”

With that, he entered the holy halls, and David returned to the halls of discussion.

Heaven was deafeningly silent. No one breathed a word as they watched in shocked disbelief at the Son on the crude cross. His battered body hung like a rag doll and even the heavenly host looked on in quiet incredulity.

“Eli, Eli, lema sabachthani?”

It was as if the cry rang out through the heavenly halls, echoing and resounding through every corridor. David shook his head. This couldn’t be happening! The Chosen One, the Messiah, The One sent to save the world, The Christ—

Dead.

He wept. He ran. He knew not where, but he ran as fast as he could, eyes shut, mind disbelieving, confused, incredulous. He knew the Lord to be perfect in His plans as well as His timing. But he did not understand this death.

When he finally stopped and opened his eyes, he found himself outside the doors to the Holy Halls. He pushed them open and walked through the Halls in silence, heading for the throne room doors at the end. When he reached them he stopped. Yahweh definitely knew he was outside, and of course knew why he had come.

With a deep breath, he placed his hands on the colossal doors. They opened, and a brilliant light shone forth. The floor inside was a sea of flawless glass, and angels stood and flew in rows upon rows, filling the throne room with choruses and songs of praise. David shielded his eyes as the tangible presence of the Lord flowed out and the air was filled with the trisagion chant of the Seraphim. He walked into the seemingly boundless room, and as the doors closed behind him, all David could see was the impossibly bright light as it enveloped him. As he raised his eyes to the incandescent Throne, his sight was filled with the majesty and all-encompassing glory of the One upon it.

"Welcome, David."

The voice resounded through the immense room and bounced off the walls he could not see. It was like the crashing of giant ocean waves and the roar of a thousand peals of thunder, yet the articulation of his name by the Divine Vox resonated within him like jubilant butterflies in the pit of his stomach and made his heart leap in wonder.

“Adonai,” David whispered breathlessly. At that moment, he felt a wave of pure love and joy wash over him from the Throne, a magnificent ripple of tender reassurance— and something else. A tiny hint of something else. He gasped and laughed. He could hardly contain himself. It was the kind of feeling you had when you were planning something so grand and so incredible for someone that you could not help but smile about it and think how great it would be and how much happiness it would bring.

Except this was on a universal scale. No, an infinite scale. And it centered on the Son. This death was significant not because it was the end, but the beginning. He could almost see the large smile on the Almighty’s face.

Something was happening. Something was in the works. And knowing the Almighty, whatever it was, it was going to be unimaginably good.