The Invitation

I saw a picture of Jesus inviting me to come into a safe place with him. The place looked as though it was floating mid air, and there were cubes that held as stairs leading up to this structure.  The cubes looked like ice, and then I realized that the entire scenery looked like it was made up of crystalized ice. But … it showed its melt, and it became amazingly lucid in its form.  A liquid, and yet it was completely solid in its foundation.  He took my hand and led me up the stairs.  It felt like I was walking on water.  With each step, I sunk in just enough to feel immersed over my feet.

Once inside the walls, all the structural form remained but there was an indescribable feeling of flow all throughout my body.  I was completely consumed, inside of this Place…

He led me into a living transparent realm, where words seemed to lift off the pages and beat fresh life, and all that I thought I knew – was being spread wide open.  It went from an entitlement, to an invitation.

I was sitting there at a dinner table, and I looked around at all the guests that I had brought with me.  It was as if they had name tags on their demeanors.  Their names were shame, guilt, and condemnation.  I knew their faces well, and they had been guests of mine for years.  As much as they weren’t considered friends, they took it upon themselves to scrutinize my every move.  But today, I saw their residue.  Everything looked a little clearer in this Place.  They seemed like they didn’t belong there anymore.  And so I asked them to leave.

All at once, everyone got up and flooded out the door, piling out one by one until they were all gone.  

And I sat there, alone, at the table with Him.  The Father.  It was an awkwardly long table, with so much space between us.  Candlelight was lit, and the room felt warm.   But He sat there, very comfortable and at home, and adored me.  I hadn’t been alone in a room that close to His gaze in a long time.

I instinctively threw my heart onto the dinner table.  There it laid exposed, raw and beating on the table.  But to my surprise, He kept giving it back to me, saying “Be careful. Take care of it”.  Over and over, I tried to give it to Him.  I wanted for Him to just take it.  But every time, He would kneel next to me and gently hand it back, whispering “take care of it”.