There was one final thing to do before Enoch could go home.
God called one of the older angels — a terrible, menacing being, white as snow, with hands like ice and the appearance of great frost. And this angel did something extraordinary: he froze Enoch's face.
Not as punishment. As protection.
Enoch had stood before God's face. He had been anointed with divine ointment. He had been dressed in garments of glory. His body had been transfigured until he looked like one of the angelic hosts. If he returned to earth in that state, no human being would be able to look at him and survive. The radiance of heaven was still on him, and mortal eyes could not bear it — just as no one can endure the fire of a stove or the heat of the sun or the bite of arctic frost.
"Enoch," God said, "if your face is not frozen here, no man will be able to behold it."
So the angel pressed his frozen hands against Enoch's face, and the light dimmed. The glory was sealed beneath a human mask. Enoch could walk among men again.
Then God gave the order to the angels who had first led Enoch upward: "Let Enoch go down to earth with you. Wait for him until the appointed day."
They placed him on his bed at night — the same bed from which he had been taken. And Methuselah, who had been keeping watch by day and by night, waiting for his father's return, heard Enoch arrive and was filled with awe.
"Let all my household come together," Enoch said. "I will tell them everything."
The clock was ticking. Thirty days to deliver the secrets of heaven to the children of earth.