Wanted to be free, the persistent ache propelled me forward night and day with a wildness. Anticipation, my heart pounding as I cleared the summit. Finally, my daring, to record the visions of forefathers who marched before. Gazing over mountains pondering the footprints over grit and looking back, realizing they were mine. I never was abandoned; he carried me the whole time, yet to discuss it feels almost sacrilegious. I was there, Zyra, and saw it with my own eyes and felt his strong embrace, one fighting unit. Otherwise, I would not have believed or perhaps would have thoroughly questioned, but there was no doubt. I was a staunch witness and the mountains echoed my war cry.
The tempestuous motivation that caused the break occurred seamlessly. Perfect timing without which, the rage of indignation would have consumed me. At first glance, it seemed a match made in heaven with no repository for an alliance beyond the obvious, yet just below the surface seethed something malevolent. I did not notice, so seductive, the coils of it warm and nourishing, fragranced with a false promise of more. Until the portal to what remained, shattered, an ultimate kindness, and I fell into cavernous black. Willing to appear before masked perfection if only to see, but I could not. The last suffering, he had chastised with bitter steel all who dared oppose his crusade into chaos. One by one, they were taken. Only I remained, screams echoed down the hall as my fingernails clawed at anything, drug into the region of utter repugnance.
Self-loathing swirled, choking out any hope that might bring a flicker of peace, as simple recall left me in a pool of hazy-grey, devastated and filled with despair. Instead, the regiment commenced, catapulting me beyond endurance into another painful awareness… I was utterly alone.
Shadowy remains, fragments of a former life spanned the fissure between my current reality and former enchantment, creating the illusion that I was moving. Instead, if truth be told, there was a backwards sense of drift carrying me deep under. Just as the weeds surrounded Jonah's head, now too, I was fighting to breathe. I managed to break away from the watchful eye of the punisher, and found myself sitting forlorn by a wide pool of water hidden by willowy aspens that torrid afternoon. Gazing deeply into the forbidden cold blue, my swollen feet dangled into the ripples with relief until they bumped against something jutting out beneath the water. Through the clear ripples half-way buried lay a large rock painted with pictures of a garden. Something this ornate would not have been overlooked. I determined it must not have been there earlier.
Gingerly, I set my weight upon it to see if I could make it dislodge, and suddenly, there was the sound of whirling wheels and gentle chimes. Looking around, I saw a nearby flowery shrub-encrusted hill transform revealing the aperture of a cave. Intrigued, I slid damp shoes back onto my feet and tiptoed cautiously to inspect the inner workings.
Feeling a breath of lilac wind against my cheek I saw an emense cave with a stone stairway cut into its side curving almost straight up, slick like glass. The drip-drip of water gently drummed as tiny jewel-colored fireflies hummed with flickering light and a rush of crimson glow turned alongside as I slowly climbed curious. Just above eye level torches were set ablaze, seemingly lit just for me, giving sprays of incandescent light. Firmly grasping a smooth wooden handrail, I commenced to ascend the steps.
Into purpose driven life we go, I thought, wondering how many lashes this rebellion would cost me. Echoes from a recent conversation overheard, I thought perhaps this was what it meant to ‘receive the vision.’ It was a vision all right, I sighed, taking in the beauty as I climbed. Then out of nowhere, the sound of rabid dogs growling viciously, churning up the ground as nails click-clacked on cold stone. Looking frantically around in desperation, the roots above me beckoned with a warning. As I reached overhead, instead of grabbing hold to scramble up the glassy sides, I was lifted to safety just above the gnashing teeth of the snarling animals jumping and salivating at my feet. I recognized the Dark Lord’s guard dogs. Lunging and yelping, their huge paws ripped at the ground below me until a chasm appeared so vast, the lot of them tumbled through and disappeared howling.
Having been completely distracted and with catastrophe averted, I observed to look at the salvic roots. Not roots any longer, but to my amazement, hands. Warm, strong and compassionate. Hands of strength, steel wrapped in velvet. I somehow expected to see a giant body attached to them but instead, was carefully lowered down to the stairway and my hair given a gentle mussing. “Th-Thank you,” I managed to stutter. The forefinger of the hand slowly etched letters spelling what looked to be a name into the wall. A thought pressed upon me that I should remember what had been written and I resolved to commit it to memory. As if it were a mirage, the wall enclosed upon itself and the hand was gone.
At the top of the stairs was an opening requiring me to crawl several yards before stepping out of the dark onto a muddy landing. Squinting, I gazed over an open expanse of field realizing I was completely exposed with no where to hide. Startled, a very tall man stepped forward out of the shadows. His demeanor was that of a primordial warrior with broad, powerful shoulders. Dressed all in gray he seemed foreboding, but rather than bolting, I stood still, somehow knowing he was safe.
His ethereal teal-green eyes connected with mine and with a kindhearted nod, his silvery beard bobbed off his broad chest. In one swift move he took me under his cloak. Almost immediately we arrived at the other side of the field to a tangle of woods. No words were spoken, but as he unwrapped his cloak, I knew he was encouraging me to make a run for it. His kindness had opened for me an opportunity and I turned to whisper goodbye but he was nowhere to be seen. Looking back, I was surprised to realize my journey up and out had been through the twisted base of a monstrous tree. Becoming re-oriented, I realized I was at the farthest edge of the dreadful town. Below me lay the dirty city snaked through with tunnels that had imprisoned me in their rat-infested grip for generations.
Looking skyward, I determined from the position of the sun that I was traveling north and located a narrow trail hidden by a suitable cover of thicket. Dark mist and jutting rock caused me at times to stumble but something shone through the leafy canopy like a zoetrope cutting a way through the brume with its flashing staccato. Beyond the trees, I saw the outline of a large structure and, swallowing hard, knew that anything would be an improvement to what lay behind. Quickening my pace, the ground was swallowed up in huge swaths as I leapt over shrubs and needled ground cover all of which became a blur.
Breathing heavily, I climbed from between a thick carpet of creeping vines, up an embankent and out of the woods. Kicking off a remaining mud-caked shoe, I surveyed my surroundings. Straight in front of me rising from the earth, was a massive structure made of meticulous layers of rough-cut gemstones, its rugged beauty overwhelming. The foundation glistened and standing there enthralled, I distinctly heard the gentle calling of my name, “Zyra.” For a moment, I wondered if I was dreaming. Who would know my name? Just a pilfering scullery maid, sold as a child, used for a copper coin. Sweat dripped down my back and I felt a bit unsteady as if I was disembarking from a dark ship filled with marauding thieves. Somehow, I had been provided a way to break free from their filthy grasp and led to this place. It felt familiar like I’d always known where it was.
The edifice was impressive with brightly colored banners lucid and unfurling in the jetstream while iridescent beams lit up the late afternoon sky. Light jets passed through the highest clouds so that my eyes hurt trying to follow to see their end. Variegated sluices of shimmer beckoned me to come closer. Afraid, but eager to see more, I crept over a creaking drawbridge.
Up close, it was a colossal structure and over the massive arched entryway, hidden until standing directly beneath, etched deeply into the hewn stones was carved the words, “To the Glory of our Lord and Savior.” I wasn’t sure who He was, but realized He must be the ruler over this realm.
My miserable knock produced no answer as I thumped half-heartedly on the planks. Then, without warning came the sound of whinnying horses, barking dogs, and the rattle of armor. Petrified, I realized my absence must have been discovered and a hunting party was in pursuit. No more wimpy knocking, I kicked and hammered with all my might. Ancient hinges squeaked, a thunderous sound of splintering wood as I tumbled into an enormous stone enclosure. The door closed of its own accord, and the bolt slid firmly into place without aid.
Clambering to my feet, I looked around trying to decide which way to go. Before me, I saw an archway above which the word “SALVATION” was carved in red. Staring closely, the letters glowed warm and appeared alive, throbbing as if they had their very own heart-beat. The soldiers were trying to breach the entry hitting it again and again with battering rams. Horrified, knowing that they would shred me in pieces if caught, I looked back at the shaking door and the rattling iron handle, but it did not budge. Cursing and swearing, screaming that they knew I was inside and that they had my shoes as evidence! They kicked the thick slab, but it held firm. For a second, I was frozen in fear, then, turning again to look at SALVATION, a word came to mind, and with a shaking voice I called out, “Jesus?”
The portico opens leaving ripples in the air as if a rock had been thrown into water. Quickly, I enter through and the translucent undulation closes firmly behind me. Breathing heavily, leaning against the archway in relief, I look up noticing that on both the door post and the overhead beam there are streaks of weeping red.
Something changes the moment I step through the veil. The light looks different and the air smells pure and fresh. Inhaling deeply, I pause reveling in the moment. No one is here to scream, pull my hair, molest or beat me. I feel a sweet presence, as if a huge weight has been lifted off of me. Up until now, I had not known that I carried it. My mind can’t help but inquire what this is and why this has happened. To my surprise, I hear a voice vibrate through me in response. Its’ soothing embrace unlike any other I’ve ever heard. “You have seen well…I have called you out of darkness into My marvelous light. Those I foreknew, I appointed to be the heirs of salvation. I am the door. You are no longer a slave but I have raised you up from the dunghill and seated you among princes. You are a king and priest unto My God and His Father and you shall reign on the earth. I have begun a good work in you, and I covenant with you My faithfulness to complete it.”
Looking down, I see my clothes, ragged and filthy have been changed into glowing white, a flowing robe of the finest linen. My hands gently smooth the material wondering at its finery. The welcoming voice sounds like it is smiling, “Enter into My gates with thanksgiving, and into My courts with praise: I receive your thankful heart, and your delight blesses Me.” I am stunned with the thought.
Receive Him, I did, for escaping the vigilantes who would have hauled me back to hell, how could I not choose this way, but I have questions. In response to my searching, the rock wall before me becomes a book with open pages, a living scroll unfolding the ancient story. Mesmerized, I watch with a heart of innocence, never having heard the story before. I try to imagine what He would be like. My heart is stirred. From beginning to end, in utter awe, the understanding of what He has done begins to settle into my being. Amazed at His kindness and thoroughly grateful, I don’t care what anyone thinks, should they notice. Bare footed, I pick up a cast-off palm branch and wave it madly, jumping up and down. Shouts of praise pour from my lips. Excitement stirs within my heart, and thankful for the locked portal strong against the darkness, I smile. He has moved again for me. Did He really say I was a priest or a king, or was it a king and a priest? Either way, I believe Him. Singing a song I’ve never sung before, I notice that now, my robe is held up by a beautiful golden sash.
Walking directly into the temple, twirling and skipping like the lame man healed at the Gate Beautiful, shouting and praising Yeshua, my eyes behold an altar of brass. My voice lowers to a hushed whisper as I see the place where the priest brought animals for sacrifice. Its top is much larger than what I thought it would be. Walking slowly to observe it all around I see it is smattered in blood, little troughs where the rivulets ran down. There is still a piece of rope dangling from one of the corner horns. What was the purchase price for one of those sacrificial lambs, and how many endured for the demand? I can almost hear the sound of a million sheep crying out, balanced on the ages. Quietly, Yeshua silenced death. His own life for the sins of many. His pain becoming a final answer in my place. Wrath is no longer suspended. It is finished.
Bowing my head, I give myself to Him again, thanking Him for being a sacrifice for me. I realize that there is more than just jumping for joy, there is a cost. I hear His voice, “I beseech you therefore, by the mercies of God, that ye present your body a living sacrifice, holy, acceptable unto God, which is your reasonable service.” Understanding that I must lay down my will, I take the palm branch and set it on the flames under the altar and kneel before The Lamb. I dedicate my life and all of who I am to Him and I sincerely mean it. I hear the Lord Jesus whisper that it was His good pleasure to give me the kingdom. That He would do it all again for me. My heart is overflowing with gratefulness to Him. As the tears splash on my chest, I see a beautiful crystal necklace glistening on a golden chain covering my heart.
After a while, I follow a curve that brings me to a laver. Stately, between the temple and the altar, its large basin filled with sparkling water and sky. The setting sun is brilliant pink and gold, reflected in the polished brass that encompass its girth. A stirring breeze moves the water into little waves. As I stand there, I unexpectedly catch a glimpse of myself in its reflective surround. Self-conscious, my matted hair and grimy skin, pale in comparison to what I am recognizing within my own heart, it’s as if Jesus is holding up a mirror. Ashamed, I look away, then His words of kindness draw me back to look deeply into the golden pool. “I cleanse you by the washing of the water of the Word. I have prayed for you and I wash you with my tears. With the blood and water that issued forth from my side, I gave birth to you before the foundation of the world. You are clean in me.” I hear myself respond, “Wash not only my hands and feet, Lord, please wash all of me.”
Spontaneously, I dip my head into the water then push myself over the edge to slide all the way down to the bottom. An eruption of effervescent bubbles gush-up as if from an ageless artesian spring much like champaign. The cool water flows over my body, head, hands, and feet. I have never felt so spotless or so free. As I emerge, refreshed and enlivened, a fluffy towel has been draped over a chair. Surprised, a pair of satin shoes sit nearby which I slip on gratefully. They cuddle my feet like clouds and a warm breeze dries me as I move deeper into the temple.
Before me is a scarred wooden table on which are loaves of fresh bread. Hot from the oven and set on clean white cloths, their tantalizing aroma curls upward in a steamy mist making my stomach growl. I follow a trail of wheat scattered on the golden-hued floor to the edge of the long table and reach out my hand and tear away a piece of the crusty bread. Warm and nourishing, it melts in my mouth. I am completely satisfied. “I have bought you with a price. I was wounded for your transgression; I was bruised for your guilt and iniquities. The chastisement needful to obtain peace was upon me and by My stripes, you are healed. Take and eat, this is My body broken for you. You have not come to a mountain of fire but to this mountain of bread for your healing. As often as you do this, remember Me.” Suddenly, I see around the table others dressed in long robes like mine. Kings and priests bid me come sit with them at the table. They do not realize I’m a mere slave, but welcome me with warm hugs and liberal servings placed before me with abandon. I feel as if I have known them all my life. What joy! Breaking bread, pouring wine, talking, laughing, telling stories, sharing our hopes, dreams, and understanding about this Yeshua. There is immense enjoyment in each-others company, exchanging ideas and experiences. I realize I have much more to learn.
Looking to one side, I see a seven branched lampstand. It flickers in the background against a dense amethyst sky shot through with red-orange pools of liquid sun slowly dipping beneath the horizon. Laughter resonates across the expanse of the golden chamber, the murmuring sound of good conversation, and the clink of dinner ware is engaging. I have no sense of time yet, I am restless, somehow knowing I am being invited deeper still. Saying goodnight, shaking hands and hugging all around, in amazement, I see my hand now is fitted with an intricately laced golden bracelet. With wonder I try to decipher its meaning as I glide down another hallway.
I'm inexplicitly drawn towards a small door on which is written a passage from the Old Testament: (Ex. 30:34), "God said to Moses: Take fragrances such as balsam, onycha, galbanum, and pure frankincense, all of the same weight, as well as other specified fragrances."
As I open the door I am met by the heady perfume. I recognize spiced musky pomegranate, succulent persimmon, rich black orchid, liquid amber, black violet, vanilla cream, and mahogany wood. Overcome, I move to an altar covered in bundles of flowers, intoxicating herbs and spices. Instinctively, I know I’m expected to light this sacred mixture. Hesitating, almost not daring to affect the beautiful arrangement, I slowly comply. The blaze causes the incense to rise up in a straight column without separating. A portion from Exodus floats into my mind. It is His voice again:
“And you shall make an altar to burn incense; out of acacia wood …square, one cubit long, two cubits high, including its horns. Cover it with pure gold, top, walls all around
the horns; a gold rim around" "Place this in front of the curtain concealing the ark of the
testimony and where I commune with you…”
Commune with you… out of all the words written, this stands apart. The soft sound of the priestly dinner behind me is faded long away.
My heart is stirred and I am suddenly overcome with sorrow for every sin I have ever committed, every caustic word. Forgotten memories flood my mind and my face is flushed with shame. Unable to call out blame, and even though it seems as if I was provoked, I realize I am the one who has grievously lived, and no one else. It truly was me. Remorse floods my soul, hesitant to even dare ask for forgiveness let alone forgiveness for occurrences I waged directly against Him. How had I ever overlooked? Nuanced moments discarded as unimportant, blatant happenstance that, just the recollection of which makes my stomach churn. Angry, brutish behavior, and foul words that now set my face aflame send me cowering in humiliation. How could I not have realized?
The heady smoke rises and descends upon my head like dew but instead of smoke, gently swathed around my head appears a gossamer veil laced with gold. I move the veil aside and see a figure standing in front of me, seemingly suspended within the smoke as the fire burns. His arms are open and wide, He beckons me forward. In His presence, I feel weak and can’t stand, stumbling headlong everything is askew, my robe tangled, the veil torn. Yeshua Himself, bends down to lift me up. With a strength unknown, He effortlessly untangles the chaos and wraps me in His arms within the intoxicating smoke, drawing me into His heart. Speechless, except for sobbing tears, full of dismay at my own treason, longing to stay with Him here at this altar with incense spiraling, He takes a corner of the swathing and gently wipes my eyes. “All your tears are stored in a bottle. I have never let one of them fall to the ground. I have given you a new name. Come away, My Beloved.” He begins to dance with me in His arms. Like a little child, He effortlessly props me on His feet as He sways. I see darkness beneath Him through a ruinous gash but he bids me look into His eyes as He whispers in my ear, “You have stolen my heart.” Unsure of the movements, but not willing for it to end, He is carrying me, carrying me forward.
There is a sense of deep still and hushed quiet except for the sound of the warm beating of a heart. My ear pressed to the chest of my beloved. Afraid to open my eyes, I see He has brought me into a hidden chamber of blanketed calm that at first, looks to be without light. As my eyes adjust, I see mighty warrior angels all around the perimeter standing shoulder to shoulder from the floor to the ceiling, guarding with flaming swords dipped in blood. One of them looks familiar as I catch a glint of teal eyes. Except for their wings gently moving, providing a cooling breeze, they do not break rank. Their faces are illuminated with unmistakable loyalty, their righteous zeal and strength unmatched except by the King Himself, who has now effortlessly bounded up the stairs to take His place upon a golden seat.
His majestic presence is deafening and the angels snap to attention as He smiles and pats a place next to Himself, asking me to join Him. Trembling, I start to climb the stairs. As I ascend up the expanse, I realize the one or two stairs I had thought he had gone up, was really a tall golden ladder. Step by step I am moving high off the earth and far away from the ground. Every rung where I place my foot says, “mercy.” From my new vantage point, I see a bubbling river pure and clear moving out from underneath the seat itself. It is two rivers converging into one that flows down everywhere beneath and are life-giving wherever they go. Lush plants heavy with fruit and lit from within spread beneath. The water isn’t gurgling, it is singing, and I realize the angels are resonating in harmony. I look up and see over King Jesus’s head the open expanse of sky with swirling clouds and a canopy of thick black velvet, a tapestry with the night entwined and moving like a melody. His rich black curls blend in with the velvet. He reaches forward and steadies me, takes my hand and pulls me up to where I am sitting so close to Him. I am literally nestled under His strong arm. He plucks a bunch of juicy grapes and His eyes light up with delight as He shares them with me one at a time.
“My Beloved, He who touches you, touches the apple of My eye. I am the wall of fire around about you, I am the glory in the midst of you. You are My passion and I have lifted you up and seated you with Me in heavenly places. Enter thou into the joy prepared for you before the foundation of the world. Come unto Me, share with Me, I will always give you rest. Learn of Me. I have brought you to My banqueting table. My protective banner over you is love eternal.”
He closes the canopy of night and I laugh as He reaches up into the expanse, catches a shooting star and pulls it down. When He opens His hand, there is a sparkling diamond ring which He gently slides onto my finger. I gaze at it in awe as I have never seen anything so gorgeous in my life. It is weighty and a perfect fit. “My Beloved, I Am yours and you are Mine. Forever, your name is written on My heart. I have carved you on the palm of My hand.” He opens His hand and there in the very spot where He had just held the ring, there is a snaking mutilation deep and jagged. My heart skips and I feel short of breath, overcome with grief knowing this cruelty is because of me. Shaking, I bend to kiss his hand, desperate to try and make it better, but astonished, I see the universe and myriad faces of people within that unfathomable bottomless wound. Men, women, children their desperate groanings and pleas for help arising before Him. I sense His profound aching for all those who do not know Him. Cupping my face with His hands, He whispers, “Be still and know that I am God.” His arms are underneath me, around me, above me and I am buoyed in His love. In His silence He makes no mention of the damage I have done. He is singing over me with the stars and the angels and my hand in His and the beautiful ring glowing.
I do not know how long I was with Him. It was an eternity or maybe a moment but outside the temple in a grass covered knoll, I awaken to hear a warm whistle. I am lying in fresh hay, covered in a downy feather quilt just as the sun is rising over the horizon. I feel entirely rested. With a contented sigh, I stretch languidly, noticing a shepherd not far away. He is keeping watch over a herd of chubby sheep. He turns every so often to cast a side-long glance in my direction, his shiny black curls, hiding his face. Although he may have looked familiar, I’m not sure.
Sitting up, I suddenly realize I’m no longer wearing a white linen robe, neither am I wearing the tattered clothes of a slave. Standing awkwardly to my feet, I’m vexed to see I’m dressed in gleaming battle armor. Crestfallen, I bow my head, “No! No! What trickery is this? What happened to our precious encounter? Was I only dreaming? Where are the tokens of your affection? The golden sash, the beautiful necklace, my satin slippers, the golden bracelet, the gossamer veil, the diamond ring?”
His response reverberates from within my heart in a firm but gentle voice, “My Beloved, this is my highest gift to you. Take unto you now the whole armor of God, with which you will be able to withstand all of the attacks of the enemy. Put on the belt of truth, the necklace which has become for you a breastplate of righteousness, your feet no longer slippered, but shod with battle boots- the preparation of the gospel of peace. Take up what you will need, rather than a bracelet, now the mighty shield of faith. Your wedding veil will always remind you of my love, this is your helmet of salvation. The crowning ring is myself, the Word of God, which I covenant with you and will never deny. I will fight for you now as the sword of the spirit. I will never leave you. Come to Me at all times, stay with Me, talk to Me, yes, contend with Me. I will direct your steps and establish your goings. Continually you are mine, and in every situation, I am yours. Sure-footed you will be. I’m with you always even unto the uttermost part of the earth. I AM your triumph. From glory to glory I wage Victory through you. I AM nearer to you than your very breath. Lean into Me, I will give you rest and the battle plan. You are My delight and My delight is in you.”
Realization starts to flood my heart and I remember the world in His wound and the yearning of His magnificent heart. Looking away from the temple, my eyes follow his by an internal knowing, travelling down into the dark valley where there is a storm brewing as evidenced by the roiling clouds untouched by the sun, black and menacing. The outline of the cruel city where dank, decrepit hovels line the dung encrusted streets is lit up by flashes of lightning. Brutality and trauma reign here and mercy is unknown. I remember it well and have the scars to prove it. I shudder at the thought. Surely, He is not asking me to go back?
He whispers, “I brought you out to take you in. I AM your refreshing and in sending you back you will bring My freedom to all who will. In My name you will cast out devils, In My name you will speak with new tongues, you will take up serpents and if you drink any deadly thing it will not harm you, you shall lay hands on the sick and they will recover. You will not fail. Freely you have received, freely give. My love.”
Hitching up my belt and raising the heavy sword, the intricate engravings of wine and bread the likes of which I have never seen blaze in the morning light. Into its scabbard, firmly placed, my booted-feet grip the earth with purpose. Squaring my shoulders, I steel my face and look into the approaching storm. “Into your hand Lord, I commit my spirit. Thy will be done, My precious King.”
Comments