Steve Stanton, founding editor of Dreams & Visions, shares an intriguing angel tale.  What happens to angels at the end of time?
 

         In the holy hush of heaven the prisoner was led forward into the courtroom at the end of the universe, his eyes downcast and lips grim. His hands were ceremonially bound before him with loose cotton twine, his legs unencumbered. The charges against him were self-evident, the details painstakingly chronicled. By the written rule of law, he had this one chance to speak on his own behalf before the holy tribunal.

          The prisoner approached a small dais and stepped upon it. He raised his eyes and smiled with confident grace. He began his testimony in a sure voice rich and lustrous:

         My name is Herbert, and I'm an angel.

         Just an ordinary angel, mind you. Nothing spectacular. No wings, no harp, no white pajamas—I'm not even eligible for the music lessons given by the Seven Trumpeters. Not that I have no appreciation for music—it's just not my job. You understand. An angel has got to know his place in the scheme of things—just look at the Light-bearer now.

         As for me, I work in the Bureau of Records, Words Division, and at the time in question I was busy recording the words of one Harvey J. Rumbottom, a welder first-class in a small town in Central Ontario. Canada, that is—backwoods America. I wasn't recording his actions, nor concerned with his intentions; those are separate departments entirely. Just words. Verbal speech. That's my specialty.

         It may not sound like much, and I'll freely admit that Words-Division angels are not highly regarded among the varied host of heaven, not with Gabriel and Michael stealing all the thunder these days, but we in the business regard it as a most serious occupation despite the lack of glamor, and it's difficult not to get emotionally involved in the work. Consider for a moment the King's own commandment, that by their words they will be justified and by their words condemned. Might that not be a legitimate cause for concern among the humble ranks of Words Division? Ah, I see that you agree.