When I Saw You

May 24, 2013 Journal

Last night, when I was with Jesus, my spirit was still warm from the time before, like coals that are alive and glowing after a bonfire, resonating with His presence like the bow strings of an instrument just after it has played a concerto with great energy and then been swiftly lifted. I was clinging close to Him, the One who is the source of the music, the One who is the Light that sets to fire. But all was at rest, because the music He was playing was like something that is hummed quietly before sleep. I was close enough to hear this sound. I touched His closed eyes, feeling how tender the skin was, how soft. I closed my eyes, and I could feel fingertips of God touch my face, the One who knit me together in my mother’s womb, the One who holds all power and authority, Whose hands can trace out constellations and call down mountains. He could breathe on me too strongly and I would wither, but the touch of His fingers on my face was as soft as snowfall, as careful as a fine calligraphy brush. It was the first time I’d ever been able to be that perceptive, that trusting.

May 25, 2013 Journal

You are the one that sees Me, Jesus said to me today, as though naming me.

And I remembered how He had said once that seeing clearly in that place was almost like my work- the thing that I practice or invest myself in.

I stifled the first impulse to deny this and instead considered it. I thought about how many times I had begged Jesus to let me see Him- how He had summed it up for me, you want to see Me, He had said, so quietly.

I considered how I was seeing Him much more clearly. In fact, today I saw His hand almost with so much texture- and I realized again that Jesus is as much human as He is divine- His hands and face show some signs of wear and tear- weather beaten, Jesus said to me once, recently, with amiable humor- and I remembered that He must have spent nights outside and His days outside as well.

May 27, 2013 Journal

“But I make account of none of these, neither do I count my life precious to myself, so that I finish my course with joy, and the ministration that I received from the Lord Jesus, to testify fully the good news of the grace of God.” Acts 20:24 YLT

I had a dream. Well, not a dream. I was with Jesus and we went up into the sky and there were storm clouds there and we passed up through and into them, and I kept thinking or hearing those Scriptures that say He makes the storm His messenger, He rides the clouds, the clouds go before Him, and so I said, "Okay, okay, I understand it."

The wind was whipping our hair around our faces and the lightening was striking within the cloud, with all the superheated energy, but I wasn’t afraid because I was in His arms. Then we began to sink down and down and I saw below me the roofs of our new housing development. (Keith and I had recently contracted to build a new house instead of signing up for another year with in the rental house.)

That confused me; I’ve never been with Jesus and seen a physical place that I could recognize from my present life, so I held back out of fear and then I accepted and we went down and down until we stood on the sidewalk across from our building lot.

And again I was afraid and again I submitted to being there and I saw our house completed but rising up behind it was this massive wooden structure.

I realized it was the prow of a boat- it was an ark, so massive it seemed almost to block out the sky and it seemed to be made of cedar wood burnished or varnished a deep red color and again I was afraid and again I made myself present.

And the ark crushed the new house to bits and pieces, filling the sky as it did so. I mean, it was massive and we rose up into the sky and I saw our tiny figures against the massive prow of this ark as we rose up, and then we were on the deck, but the deck was full of holes so that I could see down in, or else the deck itself was dissolving before my eyes, I couldn’t tell which.

The interior of the ark was sloshing with water- it was full to the brim with water, a great depth and a great weight of water, and again, fear gripped me. I felt a lot of fear, looking down into that water and I remembered a nightmare I had had as a child, that the floor of the gym was opening up beneath my feet and people were falling into the chasm that was revealed.

But I moved through and past this fear and as I did, the entire ark burst and the water burst out and flooded the entire housing development, sweeping all the houses away, leaving pools of water and water soaked ground behind, a deep brown, rich color, glistening in the sun.

Then it was over, and I asked Jesus, "What does it mean?"

And He said that the new house symbolized this life, security in this life and that my nightmare was about the fear of death, and I had associated the dream with the seeing holes in the deck and the water below, but that such an association was not the meaning.

So then I thought about it from many angles. I know the ark is Christ, who is the source of the living water, the living water that overwhelms the present life, the small present life.

It was strange that the ark held the flood, whereas before, the ark rode on the flood. What does this reversal mean?

Does this mean like a flood of pure life, as opposed to a flood of death? If the ark is Christ, then He is come bringing pure life. It’s a reversal of life over death. The fear of death is absorbed into Him, broken open, His life sweeps away the smallness of our present preoccupation.

*

Last night I was hurting so deeply from the anxiety of posting my last blog; I was regretting it so much and feeling as though I had failed Jesus terribly and that I must be the most blasphemous, ridiculous joke of a person and He leaned over me and pulled me in and said, Jenny.

He said it with tender, quiet authority. Immediately I stopped everything I was doing and looked at Him, like oh my goodness, Jesus just said my name. Then I had to withdraw from the experience to consider it from all angles (because I could either spend my whole attention receiving the spiritual experience, or my whole attention pondering what I had seen. Both are necessary, but I could not do both very well at the same time) and then I returned to being with Jesus and focused on His face and I said tentatively, "What?  What did You want to say to me?"

And He said, gently, just stop. By which Jesus meant, stop hurting yourself. Stop doing this to yourself. Just stop.

And I tried.

This morning, Jesus patient coaxed me to Him, first taking the time to reassure me, again, that He told me to write that blog, that He gave me His words, those were His words, that He was using them and I was meant to speak them, to write them. You’re a messenger, He said. I whispered, “Yes. I know. You have told me. It must be true. It is true.”

I took His hand and was leading Jesus through the house and then I realized who I was leading. I turned and looked at Jesus and delight washed over me and left me shy and in awe. I paused and leaned against the door frame, and then ran to Him and got caught up in His arms.

And I realized that Jesus had longed for me and so He had coaxed me, reassured me, set me at ease, and brought me to where He was. Jesus had done this because He wanted me with Him.

We were walking back to the house after swimming in the lake and we paused in the bushes with the dark green foliage, like rhododendrons that grow so thickly between the lake and the koi pond. I hung back as we were passing though there to the house. There are times when I suddenly remember Who I am with, and the only response possible is to stop everything in wonder and look at Him. When I stopped, Jesus paused.

When we walk through there, often He bends down to lift a branch out of the way, but He was at that time standing straight amid the profusion of leafy branches, still wet with water from the lake. There is a lucidity about Jesus that is both tranquil and beautiful. Jesus looks as calm and immoveable as an oak tree, and He is as serene and full of light as the cloudless sky. He doesn’t have to try and do to anything to be this way, He just is this way. I was looking at Jesus with the natural deference and stillness that seeing Him evokes, and He smiled, the expression on His face and in His eyes showing a warm affection and happiness that is very human. I remembered how He is the second Adam and we are His Eve, His gift.

I stepped close to Him. “I want to be wholly with You,” I whispered, longingly. “I want to be with You and see You.” By which I meant, I wanted the wholeness of heaven, how He is there, as He lives there now, and no longer with this incomplete spiritual sight with its coming and going- no more veil at all, completely to be in His presence, as completely as I am in my physical room when I wake in the morning, and there it all is, right there, going nowhere and in all directions fixed and yet fluid in all the motions of life.

What do you want Me to do? Jesus seemed to ask, with His compassionate regard- this feeling of tenderness that takes into loving consideration all that I am, and places a value on what I say that I can't understand. I can’t explain how Jesus put it; it was as if He was coaxing me to say something out loud and I was shy to say it, because I didn’t know everything that it meant, or what it would require, but it was the thing I was longing for, and the thing Jesus was wanting me to say, so I said it. I stepped close to Jesus and I whispered.

“Come,” I whispered, urgently. “Come quickly.” I meant, here, to this time and place- to return, to come back and take His place and to rule and reign here on earth and to make everything right.

I hung on His neck and longed for this, longed for Jesus to bring things to a conclusion, so there would be no more suffering, so I and all in Him and this world would be completely with Him. I knew Jesus heard and received my words. When Jesus hears something, it is not in a passing way. He keeps the words with Him.

May 28, 2013 Journal

From a blog I didn’t post:

I understood something differently recently, but it's difficult to explain. Jesus often called the religious leaders hypocrites or actors.

I'm beginning to think that this is because they had a false sense of self and ignoring it is like having a beam in their eye. So they dressed up their outer behavior, their outer appearance- like a white washed tomb- and went about pretending- living a lie. This lie imprisons them. They are a slave to this lie.

I can't help but think that this false self is like an idol- an idol of self. They must polish this idol and appease this idol and tend this idol of their outer self, ignoring the inward man.

Because they are judging themselves, they are constantly judging others. They are guarding their idol- their image, their status, their poofed up dignity- and looking down at or adoring and giving praise to others that live the same way, but with an even more polished appearance- they are extending praise amid themselves, coming in their own name, praising each other, a little circle of outer persons, apparently godly idol worshipers who are slaves to their sin.

They create and sustain systems of power and they will commit murder to protect their power, their place. They will throw others who are weaker away to protect their idol of outer self. Nothing can touch or tarnish their idol- they are polishing the outside of those cups all the time.

Recently, I connected this understanding to the image of God shattering something with a rod of iron- smashing something brittle- like pottery- something like an idol.

The real person inside is not smashed- the outer, false self, the brittle lie- the idol- that is smashed.

Or, to use another metaphor, it's like a house built on the sands of religious performance. When the torrent of water comes, the house is ruined and the destruction of the house is great- the man himself is not lost.

Why? Because he's loved, that why. Because he's us- we have all been through or are going through or will go through this process. When two blind people, certain they can see clearly, fall into a ditch, that ditch is the mercy of God. By it, they realize that there is something wrong with their sight. Jesus does not want them to remain in the ditch, in a watery mess of all they had wrongly built; He wants them to come to themselves, repent and run to Him for mercy, healing, and balm for sight.

I know, because I had an idol of outer, religious performance. I tended this idol every day, very carefully. It was very brittle. I was a slave to this idol. I judged others on how well they tended their appearance. I prided myself on the religious leader that I was following. (This was the person who had begun the church in which I grew up. He had passed away before I was born, but in that church, we attempted to follow closely his teachings and felt that we were elevated from all other churches because of it.)

One day- I have no idea why- I became aware of this. It was as if I felt myself to be caged in a rusted suit of painful armor- armor that wouldn't move right, that blinded me, imprisoned me, stuffed with religious pride like rotten fruit cake. I must have been sixteen or seventeen years old.

I was so horrified- horror suffused my entire being. I cried out to God, in that moment, to smash that pride apart- to break it apart. He did, but it took years. It's on-going.

Recently, I was with Jesus and I was thinking about something that truly is horrible, and it was making me angry that was happening, and I found myself wanting Him to do something about it- to bring that situation to an end.

Then I was horrified! I was horrified that I wanted my anger to move God. Without words, I poured this entire thought process to Jesus, as though revealing my heart- here is what I thought, here is what I feel; I don’t know how to sort through all this, please help me.

Jesus took my hand and pressed it against His chest and I could see and feel that there was something like a furnace inside Him- a consuming fire.

And I thought, in awe, that's wrath- only the wrath was not anger, like when a person loses their temper. It was love. But not like any love I had ever known before. It was a consuming zealous fire of holy, unstoppable love, capable of cleansing everything in His flames. It was a burning desire to smash the prison, to set the prisoner's free, to heal the broken hearted, to give sight to the blind.

This love will not stop or go out until it has accomplished His purpose- until everything is set right by love. It’s a fiery, righteous zeal, which means that He knows what is life and what is death, and He wants life for us and restoration for His creation.

When I understood this, I was freed from my anxiety. I threw my arms around Him- I threw my own love and longing into His greater, consuming love, and I cried out to Jesus with fierce longing, "Break it! Break it open! Break open that prison- let the real persons within, weak and blinking their eyes from living inside the idol of their outward appearance, come out into the light of day. Let the victims come free of their oppression. Break open that circle of self-praise, smash it open and let the prisoners go free."

(This is a strong message, and I want to make clear that there is an honor that is godly that we give to those who labor on our behalf, and that there is godly joy in meeting together to encourage one another in God, to share His word and to grow in the Lord.)

May 28, 2013 Journal

Last night, I was with Jesus and His sorrow was so great that He was the one that ended up on the floor. He fell to His knees in pain.

I didn't know what to do; I was overwhelmed. I threw my arms around His shoulders and held Him close.

"This is cruel," I whispered. "This is so cruel. This is so wrong. How can this be? Haven't You suffered enough? How can it be that You should continue to suffer? Someone should put a stop to this immediately! Why is this allowed to continue? After all, You are in Heaven! How can the Father allow this, even now? Where are the angels to minister to You? Why are You alone?”

Over and over again, a deeper meaning, a new emotional understanding of what it means to endure all things, hope all things, believe all things, was being carved into me by this grief and pain.

To feel all the horrific acts that are committed, the travesties, the loss, and yet!

To never give up hope- to feel the worst and yet to believe the best and to love completely, absolutely, to be given over in love- how could a heart other than God suffering this rending?

In fact, the experience was so overwhelming that I wanted to stop experiencing it. I wanted to escape the emotional knowledge. I thought it was unbelievable. I wanted to refuse to believe it, and I almost left, but I couldn't leave Him.

Then I remembered, with incredible relief, the last line, and I whispered it to Him, over and over again:

"Love never fails," I whispered. "Love never fails. All will be made new and You shall do this. You have done it. It is done."

The truth of this comforted us both. It's not that Jesus ever forgets this, it's that He feels everything! It's so terrible.

Later, I came back to Him. I was there; I knew I could be there with Jesus in any place. So I said, "How would You like me to come?"

And I remembered that Jesus is the air that I breathe and the flesh and blood that I wear and the place that I rest and I was in the room, breathing in and breathing out and I put my face to His robe and I breathed in and breathed out through the soft fabric and I pulled away from Jesus and saw Him.

He whispered you’re Mine, a cherished, a treasured gift. And I assented, because to assent and to accept gives Him pleasure.

He whispered, you’re My own, My bride, and I assented and thought about how I was created by Him for Him, just to be that way and how I woke to Jesus. I turned my face to see Jesus; I looked at His face, with His eyes, weather beaten at the corners and the scars across His forehead from the crown of thorns, and as I looked, they seemed to open, and I said, no, no don’t open, don’t, and kissed them- I kissed all across His forehead and they did not.

I saw again His face, the roughness of His beard and His arched nose and dark eye lashes and luminous eyes, and I said His name, again and again, “Jesus,” I whispered. “Jesus, I love You. I love You, You Son of God.”

I was so deep into trust that that I was drowning in love. I was crying, at one point I wiped tears from my eyes and He was crying, I saw the tears running down His face.

I whispered, “Rest. Rest here. I love You. I love You so much.”

I said, "I love all that You are," and it was as if Jesus began to lay out all His most vulnerable aspects, as if He were laying His heart wide open for me and He said, even this? And He meant His vulnerability and I said, "Yes, yes, I love You for that; I love You with that." I said, "I love Your vulnerability, Your meekness." He said, do you love My childlike trust, faith and obedience? And I said, “Yes, yes, I love that about You, I love Your childlikeness. I love all that You are, every scar, every mark, Your heart and every part of Your heart and every aspect of Who You are and I want to welcome You and recognize You and see You more clearly.”

And we were whispering together. I called Him by name. Each time I did, my love and joy in Jesus increased, because of knowing I was with Him, and how wonderful He is and how beautiful, with His pure heart and humility and long suffering love and obedience. My love for Jesus was pouring out of me as though I were radiating it in all directions, I was drenched in love.

Speak, you words, speak! Be spoken!

Come out. I will draw you up from the depths that hide you-

I went to the well

I was sitting by my window at night

I opened my window

I opened the glass

I swung the glass open

I stood on the threshold.

Some lit cotton gauze moving

I waited on the windowsill.

Lost, my breath goes through

First and following after my

Fingertips resting, breathing

Lighter than air falling warm

Though the fabric. Life knit

Into life, stitched by breath,

Each layer air, flesh and blood and

Soil- this life shot through

With roots and tendrils curling,

And You.

So genuine you’re weather beaten

by dusty wind and sea salt-

finished by that suffering,

And those marks

by which I know You.

In this present life I grew to sleep and

everything most real became wrapped up

in something too much for dreams.

Those dreams, slipping into my days

Were stolen away. One by one

I watched them shiver, shower

Into glittering air and lose the light

That lit them from below, too

Temporary to bear the weight

Of Your step

Which I could feel trembling

All through me.

My hopes, too small to contain

You, were turned inside out

To greet You.

When I saw You, I remembered.