It happened on a road I’d driven a hundred times before. Nothing unusual, no storm, no speeding. Just me, late evening, headlights cutting through the quiet stretch between the grocery store and my driveway. I glanced down to adjust the volume on the radio, just for a second. But in that moment, I didn’t see the deer step onto the road.
I should have hit her. There was no time to swerve, no space to brake—yet somehow, the car missed. Barely. She froze just as my tires passed, her eyes wild in the lights, and I could have sworn—there was something in between us. A pause. A whisper. A line of protection too perfect to explain.
My hands trembled on the wheel the rest of the way home. And somewhere across the ether of my thoughts, a question chimed: Was someone watching out for me?
The Bible doesn’t give us their names or let us see their wings, but it does speak of them—angels. Messengers. Servants of God. And sometimes, guardians.
"For He will command His angels concerning you to guard you in all your ways." That promise, found in Psalm 91:11, comes like a lullaby to the worn-out and afraid. It’s not myth or poetry; it’s assurance. Just think of that—the Maker of the universe, instructing His heavenly host to protect us.
Jesus alluded to something similar in Matthew 18:10, when He warned not to despise the little ones, "for I tell you that their angels in heaven always see the face of My Father in heaven." Their angels. Not the angels. Their. Personal. Assigned. Close.
And there’s Hebrews 1:14, which opens the curtain just enough to see the role angels play: "Are not all angels ministering spirits sent to serve those who will inherit salvation?" If you belong to Christ, they serve you. They guard, they guide, they stand between you and the unseen.
Now, does the Bible say you have a specific guardian angel named Clyde who keeps your seatbelt buckled and checks your blindspot? No. But Scripture absolutely affirms that angels are real, near, and active in the lives of God’s people.
Maybe you’ve felt that too—that chill at the base of your spine that says that could have gone so differently. The comfort you can’t explain after the call you dreaded—the peace that chased your panic like light erasing shadows.
Sometimes we imagine angels as decorations or soft light in Sunday School books. But angels aren’t decorations. They’re dispatches from heaven's King. They bring God’s will, deliver His aid, bear His comfort, and at times, His protection.
It reminds me of young Elisha and his servant, surrounded by enemies, outnumbered and cornered. The servant was near collapse with fear—until Elisha prayed, "Lord, open his eyes." And boy, did God answer. The servant saw that hills and skies were full—it wasn’t the enemy who outnumbered them, but angels. Horses and chariots of fire. God had sent more than they could count.
We don’t always get to see what the servant saw. Often, God guards in hidden ways. Through delayed departures, changed plans, instincts we can’t explain. Sometimes through a nurse, a stranger, a quick decision that saves us from what we never knew was coming.
But here’s the wonder: God doesn’t leave us alone. Not for a moment. He not only walks with us by His Spirit and holds us in His hands—He also surrounds us with help we cannot see.
This doesn’t mean nothing hard will ever happen. But it does mean we’re never unprotected. Never unheard. Never unattended.
I don’t know if one angel hovers by your shoulder or if they rotate shifts. It’s possible we won’t know until heaven just how often we were shielded when we thought we were simply lucky.
But I do know this: You are not forgotten. And when you walk through your days—from parking lots to surgery rooms to empty beds—there are footsteps you do not hear, there is presence beyond your loneliness, and there is help that heaven sends at God’s command.
So tonight, as you turn off the lights and let your fears shuffle quietly through the corners of your mind, remember: For He will command His angels concerning you—not because you’re strong, but because He is.
Because you are loved.
Because heaven fights for you.
And still does.
It happened on a road I’d driven a hundred times before. Nothing unusual, no storm, no speeding. Just me, late evening, headlights cutting through the quiet stretch between the grocery store and my driveway. I glanced down to adjust the volume on the radio, just for a second. But in that moment, I didn’t see the deer step onto the road.
I should have hit her. There was no time to swerve, no space to brake—yet somehow, the car missed. Barely. She froze just as my tires passed, her eyes wild in the lights, and I could have sworn—there was something in between us. A pause. A whisper. A line of protection too perfect to explain.
My hands trembled on the wheel the rest of the way home. And somewhere across the ether of my thoughts, a question chimed: Was someone watching out for me?
The Bible doesn’t give us their names or let us see their wings, but it does speak of them—angels. Messengers. Servants of God. And sometimes, guardians.
"For He will command His angels concerning you to guard you in all your ways." That promise, found in Psalm 91:11, comes like a lullaby to the worn-out and afraid. It’s not myth or poetry; it’s assurance. Just think of that—the Maker of the universe, instructing His heavenly host to protect us.
Jesus alluded to something similar in Matthew 18:10, when He warned not to despise the little ones, "for I tell you that their angels in heaven always see the face of My Father in heaven." Their angels. Not the angels. Their. Personal. Assigned. Close.
And there’s Hebrews 1:14, which opens the curtain just enough to see the role angels play: "Are not all angels ministering spirits sent to serve those who will inherit salvation?" If you belong to Christ, they serve you. They guard, they guide, they stand between you and the unseen.
Now, does the Bible say you have a specific guardian angel named Clyde who keeps your seatbelt buckled and checks your blindspot? No. But Scripture absolutely affirms that angels are real, near, and active in the lives of God’s people.
Maybe you’ve felt that too—that chill at the base of your spine that says that could have gone so differently. The comfort you can’t explain after the call you dreaded—the peace that chased your panic like light erasing shadows.
Sometimes we imagine angels as decorations or soft light in Sunday School books. But angels aren’t decorations. They’re dispatches from heaven's King. They bring God’s will, deliver His aid, bear His comfort, and at times, His protection.
It reminds me of young Elisha and his servant, surrounded by enemies, outnumbered and cornered. The servant was near collapse with fear—until Elisha prayed, "Lord, open his eyes." And boy, did God answer. The servant saw that hills and skies were full—it wasn’t the enemy who outnumbered them, but angels. Horses and chariots of fire. God had sent more than they could count.
We don’t always get to see what the servant saw. Often, God guards in hidden ways. Through delayed departures, changed plans, instincts we can’t explain. Sometimes through a nurse, a stranger, a quick decision that saves us from what we never knew was coming.
But here’s the wonder: God doesn’t leave us alone. Not for a moment. He not only walks with us by His Spirit and holds us in His hands—He also surrounds us with help we cannot see.
This doesn’t mean nothing hard will ever happen. But it does mean we’re never unprotected. Never unheard. Never unattended.
I don’t know if one angel hovers by your shoulder or if they rotate shifts. It’s possible we won’t know until heaven just how often we were shielded when we thought we were simply lucky.
But I do know this: You are not forgotten. And when you walk through your days—from parking lots to surgery rooms to empty beds—there are footsteps you do not hear, there is presence beyond your loneliness, and there is help that heaven sends at God’s command.
So tonight, as you turn off the lights and let your fears shuffle quietly through the corners of your mind, remember: For He will command His angels concerning you—not because you’re strong, but because He is.
Because you are loved.
Because heaven fights for you.
And still does.
