Welcome Home
Just outside the gates of Heaven – dozens of people welcoming me – friends, family, people I've touched without realizing it. Everyone is talking at once, happy, as we move as one through the gate. Then, suddenly quiet, everyone with knowing smiles backs up and kneels.
At the same time, an unimaginably bright light behind me and a voice my ears do not recognize but my heart does, "Welcome home, child." I turn, knowing who is there. My eyes lock onto His eyes. He's smiling. Shock and joy make it impossible to talk, though my lips form His name – Jesus.
Without thought, I fall to my knees. There’s so much I want to say, so much praise He is due. But all I can get out is, "Oh, Lord." His expression is humble as He nods gently, understanding and accepting my unspoken worship. I would willingly spend eternity here, worshiping at His feet.
He motions for me to stand. I start to, but fall back to my knees as the scars on His hands remind me of the truth, that my sin put them there. My eyes dart from His hands to His eyes, my face growing ashen. He looks at the people gathered behind me, and motions with His head for them to leave us alone.
He returns His attention to me, but I suddenly cannot hold His gaze. So many sins – so much evil in my life. My gaze drops, only to rest on His scarred feet.
In guilt, I cover my face with my hands.
“Look at Me, child.” He says gently. I try, but I can’t lift my head, for the guilt of the pain I’ve caused Him.
“I’m so sorry. Please forgive me,” I whisper.
I can feel Him looking into my soul, and He says again: “Look at Me.”
This time, He speaks with all of His authority as God, and I have no choice but to immediately obey. He looks at me with love in His eyes. Though there is no condemnation in His expression, I can tell He knows everything. I try to hide my face again but His command won’t allow me to.
He shakes His head, and says, “It’s gone. Your debt is paid.” And it is. The shame, the guilt – it’s all gone. I stare at Him in amazement. When He motions again, I obey His command and stand.
Time seems to stand still. Where before I couldn’t look at Him, now I can’t stop looking at Him, trying to take in all that He is. And He is just standing there, letting my hunger for the sight of His face be fed. I am mesmerized by His eyes. They shine with the wisdom of God, and the love of Messiah.
With the wonder of a child, I reach up and touch the scars on His forehead where the thorns dug into His flesh, and my brow furrows. So much pain, I think. So much He went through for me.
Some part of me is astonished that He is simply standing there, allowing this intimate contact. I wonder how familiar I can be with Him. Could I embrace Him?
He says, “Come.” As I step into His embrace, I feel on my face tears of joy, mixed with those of relief at being home. With His arms around me, holding my head to His chest, He comforts me.
Finally, my tears spent, He pulls away a little, and holds my face in His hands. I gasp and close my eyes briefly as the shock of His love flows from His hands into me. He waits patiently until my eyes open again. As our eyes meet, He says, "Well done."
He motions toward the City, and I wonder if I can stall, so I can spend a little more time alone in His presence – forgetting that He can hear my thoughts.
“I will always be with you. But time no longer restricts you. We can stay here as long as you like.” He pulls me back into His arms, and I am truly home. Hours, years, or maybe only seconds later, I let Him know that I’m ready. “Come,” He says, taking my hand in His. “You must go to the Father.”
I go with Him willingly, though it is with some nervousness at the thought of going before the Father. As we approach the throne room, I begin to hesitate a little. Jesus turns back to me and smiles understandingly, and I am comforted by the reassurance His heart has spoken to mine.
We come to a doorway. Inside, I can see a huge empty throne. As I move forward, Jesus drops my hand and steps back. I understand that I must go in alone.
There’s no one in the room as I approach the throne, but that just makes me more nervous. As I come to the front of the immense throne, I hear Jesus in my heart, “Bow before the Father, child.” I kneel, bowing my head.
In an instant, the Father is suddenly there. I fall onto my face, holding my hands over my tightly closed eyes, trying to block out some of the power I am suddenly exposed to. The only visual impression I get before I fall is of unbearable, terrifyingly beautiful flame.
“Godly fear” takes on a whole new meaning. The Father is pure light, pure spirit. In Him is the unshielded power to create and destroy. The light of the Father is so bright that even through my hands, it is blinding. The pressure of His glory is crushing, causing me to gasp for breath. I desperately want to open my eyes, to look at the Father, but I can’t. I hear the Son talking to the Father: “She is free of the stain of sin, Father for I have paid her debt. Her heart is pure.”
The Father searches my heart, sinking into the deepest part of my spirit. I try to relax, and accept the effects that His presence has on me. My spirit is absorbing the glory of the Father, opening my heart to His light. But it’s too much. Too much perfection; too much purity. Too much raw love. My spirit is so overwhelmed, I am reduced to two words. “Mercy, Father.” I gasp.
With those words, I begin to feel a lessening of glory. I don’t know how long I lie there stunned, but I feel a hand on my shoulder.
Dazed, I hesitatingly look up, and see that the Son and I are alone. My whole body is shaking so hard that I have trouble even rising to my knees.
“Oh, wow.” I whisper. Wonder, glory, joy, love, fear and worship are all swirling through my spirit. The Lord sits patiently beside me, waiting for me to gather my wits. I look around, wishing that I had been able to look at the Father. I slowly stand, and Jesus leads me away from the now-empty throne.
As we reach the doorway, I turn back for a second, reluctant to leave. “Will I be allowed to come into His presence again?” I wonder silently.
Jesus’ voice pulls my attention back to Him. “The Father’s glory is not easily withstood.” He says with understanding in His voice. “I see hesitation in your heart, yet you long for Him again.”
“I couldn’t even speak. I’ve wanted so badly to tell Him how much I love and worship Him. But I couldn’t. Does He know?”
He looks up, and whispers, “Open her eyes, Father.”
He brings His gaze back down to me, and our eyes lock. All but His eyes fades in my vision. As I get lost in His eyes, I recognize the flame burning in them.
“I hear the love and worship in your heart, little one.” The Voice is a mixture of the Son’s and a much bigger one. My mouth drops open as I finally understand. They are separate, but the same. The Father knows how I feel, because Jesus knows. I am with the Father, because I am with the Son.
“I do want to be in Your presence again, Father,” I whisper, knowing that the Father hears me.
Slowly, the rest of the Son’s face comes back into focus. He nods, and says, “You will be with Him again.”
My mind tries to take in all that has happened since I arrived. “How can I ever thank You, Lord?” I whisper.
“I love you,” He says simply, punctuating His words with an almost overwhelming love spoken directly to my heart. “Come, I want to show you what I’ve made for you.”
At the same time, an unimaginably bright light behind me and a voice my ears do not recognize but my heart does, "Welcome home, child." I turn, knowing who is there. My eyes lock onto His eyes. He's smiling. Shock and joy make it impossible to talk, though my lips form His name – Jesus.
Without thought, I fall to my knees. There’s so much I want to say, so much praise He is due. But all I can get out is, "Oh, Lord." His expression is humble as He nods gently, understanding and accepting my unspoken worship. I would willingly spend eternity here, worshiping at His feet.
He motions for me to stand. I start to, but fall back to my knees as the scars on His hands remind me of the truth, that my sin put them there. My eyes dart from His hands to His eyes, my face growing ashen. He looks at the people gathered behind me, and motions with His head for them to leave us alone.
He returns His attention to me, but I suddenly cannot hold His gaze. So many sins – so much evil in my life. My gaze drops, only to rest on His scarred feet.
In guilt, I cover my face with my hands.
“Look at Me, child.” He says gently. I try, but I can’t lift my head, for the guilt of the pain I’ve caused Him.
“I’m so sorry. Please forgive me,” I whisper.
I can feel Him looking into my soul, and He says again: “Look at Me.”
This time, He speaks with all of His authority as God, and I have no choice but to immediately obey. He looks at me with love in His eyes. Though there is no condemnation in His expression, I can tell He knows everything. I try to hide my face again but His command won’t allow me to.
He shakes His head, and says, “It’s gone. Your debt is paid.” And it is. The shame, the guilt – it’s all gone. I stare at Him in amazement. When He motions again, I obey His command and stand.
Time seems to stand still. Where before I couldn’t look at Him, now I can’t stop looking at Him, trying to take in all that He is. And He is just standing there, letting my hunger for the sight of His face be fed. I am mesmerized by His eyes. They shine with the wisdom of God, and the love of Messiah.
With the wonder of a child, I reach up and touch the scars on His forehead where the thorns dug into His flesh, and my brow furrows. So much pain, I think. So much He went through for me.
Some part of me is astonished that He is simply standing there, allowing this intimate contact. I wonder how familiar I can be with Him. Could I embrace Him?
He says, “Come.” As I step into His embrace, I feel on my face tears of joy, mixed with those of relief at being home. With His arms around me, holding my head to His chest, He comforts me.
Finally, my tears spent, He pulls away a little, and holds my face in His hands. I gasp and close my eyes briefly as the shock of His love flows from His hands into me. He waits patiently until my eyes open again. As our eyes meet, He says, "Well done."
He motions toward the City, and I wonder if I can stall, so I can spend a little more time alone in His presence – forgetting that He can hear my thoughts.
“I will always be with you. But time no longer restricts you. We can stay here as long as you like.” He pulls me back into His arms, and I am truly home. Hours, years, or maybe only seconds later, I let Him know that I’m ready. “Come,” He says, taking my hand in His. “You must go to the Father.”
I go with Him willingly, though it is with some nervousness at the thought of going before the Father. As we approach the throne room, I begin to hesitate a little. Jesus turns back to me and smiles understandingly, and I am comforted by the reassurance His heart has spoken to mine.
We come to a doorway. Inside, I can see a huge empty throne. As I move forward, Jesus drops my hand and steps back. I understand that I must go in alone.
There’s no one in the room as I approach the throne, but that just makes me more nervous. As I come to the front of the immense throne, I hear Jesus in my heart, “Bow before the Father, child.” I kneel, bowing my head.
In an instant, the Father is suddenly there. I fall onto my face, holding my hands over my tightly closed eyes, trying to block out some of the power I am suddenly exposed to. The only visual impression I get before I fall is of unbearable, terrifyingly beautiful flame.
“Godly fear” takes on a whole new meaning. The Father is pure light, pure spirit. In Him is the unshielded power to create and destroy. The light of the Father is so bright that even through my hands, it is blinding. The pressure of His glory is crushing, causing me to gasp for breath. I desperately want to open my eyes, to look at the Father, but I can’t. I hear the Son talking to the Father: “She is free of the stain of sin, Father for I have paid her debt. Her heart is pure.”
The Father searches my heart, sinking into the deepest part of my spirit. I try to relax, and accept the effects that His presence has on me. My spirit is absorbing the glory of the Father, opening my heart to His light. But it’s too much. Too much perfection; too much purity. Too much raw love. My spirit is so overwhelmed, I am reduced to two words. “Mercy, Father.” I gasp.
With those words, I begin to feel a lessening of glory. I don’t know how long I lie there stunned, but I feel a hand on my shoulder.
Dazed, I hesitatingly look up, and see that the Son and I are alone. My whole body is shaking so hard that I have trouble even rising to my knees.
“Oh, wow.” I whisper. Wonder, glory, joy, love, fear and worship are all swirling through my spirit. The Lord sits patiently beside me, waiting for me to gather my wits. I look around, wishing that I had been able to look at the Father. I slowly stand, and Jesus leads me away from the now-empty throne.
As we reach the doorway, I turn back for a second, reluctant to leave. “Will I be allowed to come into His presence again?” I wonder silently.
Jesus’ voice pulls my attention back to Him. “The Father’s glory is not easily withstood.” He says with understanding in His voice. “I see hesitation in your heart, yet you long for Him again.”
“I couldn’t even speak. I’ve wanted so badly to tell Him how much I love and worship Him. But I couldn’t. Does He know?”
He looks up, and whispers, “Open her eyes, Father.”
He brings His gaze back down to me, and our eyes lock. All but His eyes fades in my vision. As I get lost in His eyes, I recognize the flame burning in them.
“I hear the love and worship in your heart, little one.” The Voice is a mixture of the Son’s and a much bigger one. My mouth drops open as I finally understand. They are separate, but the same. The Father knows how I feel, because Jesus knows. I am with the Father, because I am with the Son.
“I do want to be in Your presence again, Father,” I whisper, knowing that the Father hears me.
Slowly, the rest of the Son’s face comes back into focus. He nods, and says, “You will be with Him again.”
My mind tries to take in all that has happened since I arrived. “How can I ever thank You, Lord?” I whisper.
“I love you,” He says simply, punctuating His words with an almost overwhelming love spoken directly to my heart. “Come, I want to show you what I’ve made for you.”