The angels were vexed. Not just annoyed. Vexed. An old English word that belongs to Shakespearean dialogue, but perfectly suited the mood in heaven this Sunday morning. Harps were untuned, wings were ruffled, and not a single angel felt like singing.

It had started quite innocently. One of them, glanced down at Earth and spotted a man crying. Not just a sniffle, mind you—but the full-blown, tissue-crumpling, heaven-echoing sob.

“He’s one of Yours, Lord!” said the angel, nudging God’s elbow gently. “He believes in You, prays, fasts, sings off-key in church, even leads Bible study on Tuesdays! So… what’s with the weeping?”

God didn’t answer immediately. He never does. The Almighty prefers silence sometimes.

“He read Psalm 23 this morning,” said another angel, “‘The Lord is my shepherd I shall not want.’ Even highlighted it!”

“And still crying!” gasped another. “Doesn’t he believe a word he reads?”

“He lost his job,” said a senior angel with wings stooping from centuries of watching human drama.

“Ah,” said the angels in unison. Then—after a brief pause of heavenly compassion—they exploded.

“But doesn’t he know the incredible things lined up for him around the corner?”

“He can’t see beyond the corner,” said the senior angel wearily.

“Doesn’t need to!” said Gabriel, nearly dropping his trumpet. “He’s got faith! At least, we thought he did.”

“All of them say they do… until reality knocks,” muttered another angel. “Then they open the door and doubts waltz in like the Blue Danube.”

“He just read that all he needs is to trust Jesus!” bellowed Michael, who never needed a microphone.

“It’s easy to read,” said the senior angel. “Harder to believe. Especially with an EMI hanging over your head and a landlord who doesn’t accept Scripture as rent.”

They all groaned. It wasn’t the first time. Wouldn’t be the last. The pattern was tiresomely familiar: Blessings given. Promises written. Faith celebrated. And then, the moment life gave a jolt, panic.

“I mean, why read at all if they won’t believe it?” an angel cried, tossing aside a golden scroll in frustration.

“And they even teach others!” added another. “Tell everyone to have faith! Quote verses left, right and centre—and then fall apart like an old building in the monsoon!”

God remained quiet. He was used to this too.

“Silly fellow,” muttered one angel.

“Silly, silly fellow,” echoed another.

And so, this Sunday morning, while choirs in churches belted out hymns of unwavering trust, and sermons on faith were preached with flair, the angels in heaven were not amused.

They were vexed.

Because for all the underlining, highlighting, quoting, and amen-ing… when it came down to actually living Word, Earth’s most faithful followers still trembled.

And the angels, those patient watchers of heaven’s promises and man’s forgetfulness, flapped their wings in frustration once more.

Oh yes, dear believer, the angels are vexed..!

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