If no one minds, a completely fictional story, but one with insight.
“Come,” Jesus 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 weight of His glory is painless, but 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. There is no corner, no hidden cubby, no secret place in my heart and spirit, that the Father doesn’t touch. 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.”
