July 10th

Four years ago, December 8, 2011


Last night I was caught up in one of those moments when all my attention is on Christ, as if I am surrounded by Him. I was talking to Him- I said, "I like our story! I'm glad we have a story- it's such a great love story."


I knew Jesus, being the Author of everything, would be able to empathize fully with my appreciation -being the author He made me- of a good story.


I felt Him take my chin in His hand. He tipped my face up to Him, leaned down close to me, and said, And we haven't even reached the end yet. There is no way I can describe both the authority and tenderness that His voice contained.


I saw a little glimpse of glory behind His words. He said that partly because He loves me and partly to comfort me because I have to wait for the ending, and it feels like a long wait.


When He spoke, I had to physically lean against the wall and take a few deep breaths. That is usually how His presence affects me- I stand still, and I have to breathe deeply and slowly. Sometimes I have to put a hand or my head to the wall, to steady myself because my legs feel weak. Sometimes I must lift my hands in an otherwise empty room and close my eyes and stand on my tiptoes, because I flooded by Him, riveted to the spot by Him.


Last night, Keith came up to me and put his arms around me. I heard Jesus whisper to me: listen- pay attention to this.


"Honey," Keith said, "You are the best wife ever. I can't describe it. Most guys, when they get home, are stressed by being home. But you are so peaceful! Just being around you takes all my stress away. You are the most loving and generous woman I've ever known."


I knew Jesus asked me to listen because otherwise, I would have pushed that feedback right away, right out of my consideration, which is what I tend to do with compliments. But Jesus was saying, this is the result of giving yourself over to Me, this is how I can spill over through your life into those around you.


This March 4, 2015


Last night, I was seeing Jesus as though He were on earth, but before His earthly ministry.


(I have begged Jesus many times to let me see His whole life on earth as it actually happened, but He has told me that I can only see it that way once I’m with Him in heaven. In the meantime, these ways of seeing Jesus are not literal. They are spiritual illustrations of His nature and gifts of relationship given through the Holy Spirit, so they have both symbolic and personal value to me and for those reasons I treasure them.)


I saw Jesus standing on the brow of a low hill where He and some others I could not see clearly were building a house. He was standing, looking at me with His tools in His hands as I came running to Him. Everything was drenched in golden, hot sunlight. I ran right into His open arms. We sat down together in the shade of a tree.


His hair was dusty, thick and dark, His beard thick and textured, everything warm from the sun; His clothes and hair smelled cleanly of sweat and dust and sun. When He lifted His head, His face was human, Hebrew, incredibly gentle, eyes luminous, gentle and deep set, His eye lashes thick and dark, His cheekbones strong, His face broad, His whole face and expression lost somewhere in depth of love and quietness.


I cradled His heavy head in my arms, tracing the skin of His forehead, the skin as yet unscarred; I was lost in love and wonder, deep down in the quiet. I touched His dark hair with my fingertips; it was tangled and dusty from His day's labor outside, and my thoughts moved away from the cruel crown that would be forced down onto His head and to the glorious destiny that awaited Jesus beyond His Passion and resurrection.


“One day, You will wear a crown,” I whispered to Him.


That crown will be you, He replied, His voice so quiet.

“Make me clear, luminous and beautiful for You, to fit me for that,” I whispered, not looking away from His eyes. “Make me as beautiful as possible, so I can give it all to You.”


Last month, June 19, 2015


Remembered again that all judgment has been given to Jesus and was filled with awe and the urgent conviction I must be right with Him, as I will stand before Him one day and in my fear of this, Jesus said to me, Have that conversation with Me now.


Because that is the perfect way to address the unnecessary fear and any real concerns- each day and each hour and always to remember that we are with Him now as we will be then, like how it says in I John:


And now, my little children, stay in happy fellowship with the Lord so that when he comes you will be sure that all is well and will not have to be ashamed and shrink back from meeting him. Since we know that God is always good and does only right, we may rightly assume that all those who do right are his children.
-I John 2:28-29


And so I threw myself into Jesus’ arms with abandon- because there is no other place to turn and in relief, because He is my home, and I asked Jesus, “Do I please You? Am I pleasing You?”


You please Me very much, Jesus assured me, holding me close. It took me a moment to let this settle in, and when it did, I felt grave.


“Thanks be to God,” I said to Him in sincere gratitude. “Glory be to God,” I said again, because my successes are all due to Him and thank God that He is my Savior and my Redeemer and my Life.


June 28, 2015


This was my verse this morning-


“Because I have done what is right, I will see you. When I awake, I will be fully satisfied, for I will see you face to face.”


-Psalm 17:15


Expand, Jesus said to me last night, when I reached out for Him. He spoke it like a command.


“How? How do I expand myself?” I asked Him, startled, but willing to obey. “You must do it for me. Holy Spirit, help me; I must trust You to do it…”


I knew why Jesus said that. My fear and awe of Him have become too great for me to go to Jesus in the simple way that I had before, and so my faith had to increase to such depth that I could believe that even in His greatness and power and glory, that I was still with Him and He with me.


Because it’s true that Jesus is with me, and that I live united to His life, abiding in Him, and it is also true that Jesus is the Living God, and that He exists everywhere, upholding and filling all things, but also, in this most sacred and past understanding way of knowing, that He physically exists somewhere in the unsearchable  and intimate presence of His Father and that He will physically return to this earth in all His glory, which is past knowing right now and in His authority, which is unquestioned, and He will judge the living and the dead, and we will stand in His full presence.


So I had a hard time getting my spirit to come off the floor where I was face down before Him. I reached out for my prayers, the prayers that I pray with all that I am, each line like a handhold.


“Jesus… Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, cleanse the thoughts of my heart by the inspiration of Your Holy Spirit, that I might perfectly love You…” At this, a surge of love for Him rose up through me. With awe and gratitude as I clung to Him, because now I could see Him and I was held safely by Jesus- Jesus! “That I might perfectly love You,” I repeated in a whisper, praying this to Him face to face with my whole heart, “and that I might worthily magnify Your great name…” And again, a huge wave of His Holy Spirit washed through me and the enormity of what I was asking was impressed on me, because how is it possible to worthily magnify the name of Jesus? How could anyone dare to ask that? But how could we do less? “And it must be and can only be through Your Holy Spirit,” I whispered to Him. “Help me to do it through Your Holy Spirit…”


But still the presence of Jesus and my knowledge and awareness of Him were too great for my faith to encompass, and Jesus said, again clearly and firmly, Expand.


I thought to myself, almost in fear- expand to what? What? I was trembling within, thinking, what else? Would I see Him? There was no doubt in my mind that if I actually saw Jesus with my own eyes, and in His glory, I would fall down as did John the beloved disciple- no matter how deeply I knew I was loved and cherished by Jesus, and I do know it- to actually see Him would sweep over me unstoppably and on my own, I would not dare to lift my head. Even so, I would rather be lying at His feet than anywhere else in the world.


I remembered my ease and familiarity with Jesus- years of such tender and dear familiarity and I wondered how on earth had I been able to do that? The fact is, it came from Jesus. First, because He created me to long for Him and to be with Him, as He has told me many times, and secondly, because He taught it to me. But I could not go back to that first faith. My knowledge and perception of Jesus had grown too wide and deep for it. I needed an expanded faith.


Then I remembered another prayer, and standing before Jesus in my spirit, I stretched out my arms to their full extent, and putting my whole faith and whole self into HIs hands through I prayed. I had to pray slowly, because every few words, I had to stop and breathe, and then reach for Him and then pray again:


"For I know Whom I have believed in, and am persuaded... by You Yourself... that He... that You are able... to keep all! All that which I've committed... unto You and for You and by You... against and until that day."


When I finished, I felt emotionally and spiritually spent, as I had poured every last drop of faith I had had into the prayer. I did feel expanded and also quiet and still. In my spirit, I entwined my fingers through His and held His hand in breathless wonder and put the back of His hand to my cheek. “Just this is enough,” I whispered to Jesus.


Is it? He asked, with His tender and loving humor. Of course it is not. He knows this because He knows my heart better than I do.


“No, it is not,” I confessed, humbly. “My hunger and longing for You are without end. Until I see You as You are, I will always end up wanting more.”


I don’t know how to hold the two things at once- the fact is, that holding His hand to my face is so much that I feel I could do that alone for eternity. And yet, there is so much more and I will always want more. Both are true and sit side by side in my heart and because of it, I can never remain in the one place. I am always being drawn by Him and so I am running after Him swiftly and breathlessly, and at the same time, held and intoxicated. It's like being at the center of the potter's wheel and it never stops spinning.


June 28, 2015


In the evening, was standing still, lost in thoughts of Jesus when I felt Him draw close and wrap me in His arms. I leaned back into His embrace with welcome relief and recognition.


“Just this would have been enough, once,” I said to Him, ruefully. I was remembering that first year when perceiving such things were the greatest gift I could imagine Him giving me and I recorded them, pondered them and cherished them. Now I think of them as an appetizer and am eager to move onto stronger meats.


Yes, Jesus agreed without words, not in judgment, but in perfect understanding of me. Then He spoke again and this time His voice was articulated and strong- I’m taking you somewhere.


“Yes,” I acknowledged dreamily, lost in thought and thinking how often the theme has been coming up lately- moving on, going somewhere, how Abraham left all that he knew for an unknown destination. He didn’t know where he was going, and he still went in obedient faith. I had read that recently and it struck me as though for the first time. Where did he get that faith from?


“But where?” I asked Jesus suddenly, my thoughts focusing, realizing I was hearing something important, but He did not reply.


Later in the evening, as I was resting with Jesus, I said to Him, realizing it in a new way, “You are my God!” Jesus of Nazareth is not just my teacher or inspiration or hope, though He is all that too, but He is my God.


“I revere You and fear You and worship You and trust You and adore You and serve You and obey You as my God and You are my only God and I have no other before You, by the grace of Your cleansing and refining Holy Spirit, and You are One God with Abba and His one perfect and manifest expression and there is no other god but You. You are the only living God and I serve, obey and worship You."


At first when I was saying these things, there was no response in my spirit from Jesus as there usually is, so I felt silly to be saying it to the silence, but I know it pleases Him and He does not have to constantly guide me as a child needing validation at each step, though He often does. I  worshiped Him in the silence, believing that this faith would only enrich the offering of love.


And then there was His love. His voice was an answering murmur of overflowing love after I spoke, so my voice and His voice were playing parts in a song like a duet. Then I rested in the resonant silence, knowing that prayer that I prayed would always rise up before Him and that it pleased Him very much, and I remembered again what Jesus had said earlier.


“But where?” I asked Jesus again.


To be with Me, He replied, strongly, clearly.


It took me a little while to process this in the light of His increased presence, but when I did, I felt almost faint with longing.


“Come soon,” I whispered to Him with my whole self. “I am longing to be with You, to know You as You are. Your beloved is sick with longing for You. Wake me from this half dream to the perfection of Your presence and Your face.”


Then I remembered my family, then I was confused and didn't know how to pray, so I prayed His will be done. (At the time, I assumed Jesus was either speaking about a clearer way of seeing and being with Him or possibly my passing away, but now I think He meant that I would be with Him more closely in the understanding of His heart, as that is what happened later, and because of His answer below. But the things Jesus says to me I only faintly understand when He first says them. They grow richer with meaning over time.)


Just a little while longer, Jesus replied, comfortingly, strongly. Be patient through just a little more refining.


June 30, 2015


Today as I prayed, ended up breaking down into tears and crying as I finished the Lord’s Prayer, asking Abba to deliver this world from evil, not because I was uncertain that He would, but because I remembered that He certainly would deliver us. “How long, Oh Lord, how long?” I cried out to Him from the depths of my heart, because in the light of this knowledge, the continuing suffering and darkness appeared all the more unbearable.


Then I ended up praying to Them in grief while tears went running down my face, and confessing to Abba that I was so weary and this body felt heavy and bruised and battered and I was worn down by this partial sight and tired of my imperfections that are so embarrassing. Although all the while I am being refined, the more refined He causes me to be, the more aware I am of how far I am from the perfect freedom, joy and clarity that there will be, and wanting to be done entirely with this whole aching, groaning, heavy process, and that I longed like water for the clarity and freedom of being with Jesus in the fullness of His presence and to be done with the blunted burden of this body and this half sight.


“Do You hear me? Do You hear what I’m saying?” I asked, in a jumble of feeling after having poured out my heart.


Oh My Jenny, I hear you, Jesus said, in loving rush of comfort and sympathy, and I felt Him put His hand on my back in comfort.


July 1, 2015


Was praying in the usual way again for the first time after vacation, and because it was during the day, I had my head phones on and was listening to Bach’s Cantata BWV 97 as I always do when the room is not otherwise quiet, and at the first strains of the song, I could hardly keep my focus on the words of my prayers for the pleasure of hearing the music. The more I prayed, the more joy I felt, until for a long time, I was doing nothing but dancing with Jesus. I would take up a phrase of prayer and then I would be swinging away with Him, caught up in this heady and delicious delight of Him, the beauty of His faithfulness and the sweeping interwoven movements of the music; the prayer, the music and the dancing became all one thing.


I reached the third prayer and settled down to pray like leaning my small weight onto a well worn and comfortable yoke in preparation to pour out my heart to Abba, because most of the weight of that prayer is on Jesus, who is pulling with me, and then I reached the last few phrases and as I did, they came slower and deeper than usual.


"Oh heavenly Father, do not put us to the test, for who could pass that test before You, but Your Son Jesus Christ, who passed with flying colors, who passed those tests as Man, who had known no sin that we might become the righteousness of God- do not put us to the test, but in Your mercy, deliver us..."


I remembered how God brought His children up out of Egypt, how so often He defined Himself by this, so I prayed, "Deliver us, for Your name is… Your name is I Am that I Am… Your name is Jesus, God's Salvation. You are the God that brought your children up out of the land of death, slavery, hard labor, infanticide, and corruption. That is who You are! You are the God who delivers Your children from death to a new land, to worship You and to rest on Your Sabbath…"


Then my thoughts went outward, as it dawned on me that Israel was a sign to the whole world of the nature and purposes of God, so I prayed, "Deliver this world from evil- the slavery of death, from hard labor and corruption, for we are all your children, made in Your image. Deliver us, for that is who You are! Bring us into the peace of Your Sabbath rest through the work of Your Son Jesus Christ, who is the Lord of the Sabbath, who undid death, led captivity captive, who is the Life and the Resurrection and holds the keys of death and hades and who by His blood redeemed us from the slavery of sin and death to the freedom and peace of sons and daughters of God.


"Bring us out of death and evil and into the Kingdom of Heaven on Earth, which is the true Sabbath that will never end, which is Heaven on earth in everlasting and peaceful harmony…"

I was seeing and remembering how the gates of the heavenly city are never closed because it is never night there, and remembering the misery that cannot come in and my heart was torn in passionate and overflowing compassion and longing, and I prayed, "Oh my loving Father, the gates are never closed! Let them all come in! Let them all come in and drink and be healed! Bring them all in, Oh my Father! Let none be left behind! I also am unwilling that any should perish, but that all should turn and be saved!"


My heart was full of yearning desire, and although I was haunted by the possibility that they might yet choose their own misery over God even at the threshold of Paradise, I felt that it was impossible for me to enjoy my rest if others remained outside. I knew I was inside the Heavenly City because I was looking out through the open gates, and it was tragic to me and unbearable that they should be open and yet not everyone within, so I opened my arms and poured out my request to my heavenly Daddy, "Let me call them in through the gates! Let me call them in to You! Let them all come in to know You and to be saved!"


Write this, Jesus said, interrupting my prayers.


“Right now?” I asked Him, slightly startled that He had just interrupted the flow of my prayer.


Right now, He said.


So I stopped in the middle of the prayer and wrote the phrases down and then I finished it- "For Thine is the Kingdom, the beautiful Kingdom of Light, Thine is all the power and all the authority, and to Thee goes all the glory, forever and ever, amen, for no one but You could ever do this! Only You, that we might all know that You alone are God and beside You there is no other, and Your perfect and manifest expression is Your Son, Jesus Christ, the Lamb of God, the Son of Man, the Lord of the Sabbath, and of His Kingdom and of His peace there shall be no end, amen."


July 3, 2015


Just looked up the English translation for that Cantata that begins, "In allen meinen Taten," and this is what it is saying:


"In all that I do I am led by God’s counsel, who can do all and owns all; in everything he must give, if it is to turn out well, his own advice and counsel to me.

Early or late nothing comes from all my efforts, my anxiety is in vain; he may deal with my affairs according to his will, I entrust them to his care.


Nothing can happen to me except what he has foreseen and what is a blessing for me. I take as he gives; what to him is pleasing from me is the very thing I choose also myself.


I trust in his grace that from all harm, from all evil protects me; if I live according to his laws, then there is nothing to harm me, nothing lacking that is useful for me.


May it be his will from my sins in his mercy to release me, to cancel out my guilt; on my transgressions he will not pronounce a harsh sentence and he will still have patience with me.


Whether I lie down late or wake up early, whether I stay in or go out, in weakness and in bondage, whatever happens to confront me, yet his word is my consolation.


If it is his decision, then I will go undeterred to meet my fate! No misfortune whatsoever shall be too harsh for me, I shall overcome it.


To him I have entrusted myself in dying and in living, whenever he bids me; whether it may be today or tomorrow I leave to his care, he alone knows the right time.


Therefore, my soul, be true to yourself and trust him alone who has created you. Come what may, your Father in heaven knows what is best in all situations."


I had goose bumps. This, this, is what has been the background to my prayers! I sat there with my face in my hands, eyes filled with tears, listening to the music and knowing for the first time what it meant.


It's like we are going along, caught up in the beautiful strains of a melody that we don't understand, and then one day, the words are revealed in all their meaning, beauty and form, and the prayer is depthless and perfect- it was exactly right.


It is like a tiny glimpse of the glory of God revealed, after we have served Him for so long down here, and realizing that nothing has been in vain after all, that everything was surrounded and up held by God as He wove Himself into the work.


*

The hand of the Lord came upon me and brought me out in the Spirit of the Lord, and set me down in the midst of the valley; and it was full of bones. Then He caused me to pass by them all around, and behold, there were very many in the open valley; and indeed they were very dry. And He said to me, “Son of man, can these bones live?”


So I answered, “O Lord God, You know.”


Again He said to me, “Prophesy to these bones, and say to them, ‘O dry bones, hear the word of the Lord! Thus says the Lord God to these bones: “Surely I will cause breath to enter into you, and you shall live. I will put sinews on you and bring flesh upon you, cover you with skin and put breath in you; and you shall live. Then you shall know that I am the Lord.”’”


So I prophesied as I was commanded; and as I prophesied, there was a noise, and suddenly a rattling; and the bones came together, bone to bone. Indeed, as I looked, the sinews and the flesh came upon them, and the skin covered them over; but there was no breath in them.


Also He said to me, “Prophesy to the breath, prophesy, son of man, and say to the breath, ‘Thus says the Lord God: “Come from the four winds, O breath, and breathe on these slain, that they may live.”’” So I prophesied as He commanded me, and breath came into them, and they lived, and stood upon their feet, an exceedingly great army.


Then He said to me, “Son of man, these bones are the whole house of Israel. They indeed say, ‘Our bones are dry, our hope is lost, and we ourselves are cut off!’ Therefore prophesy and say to them, ‘Thus says the Lord God: “Behold, O My people, I will open your graves and cause you to come up from your graves, and bring you into the land of Israel. Then you shall know that I am the Lord, when I have opened your graves, O My people, and brought you up from your graves. I will put My Spirit in you, and you shall live, and I will place you in your own land. Then you shall know that I, the Lord, have spoken it and performed it,” says the Lord.’”


Ezekiel 37:1-14, NKJV

August 13th

I sat upstairs and pulled the Bible toward me. Tears fell down all over again. Oh, Holy Bible, no longer a bulwark against deception. Even you have let me down.

I open the Bible to Luke, where I was reading, more tears pour down my face. There, far in the distance, is Real Jesus. He is far away from me in history now, and He is far away from me in spirit. Once He seemed so close, but I was deceived by the color of His eyes.

Blue Eyed Real Jesus is busy spending time with important people, but for such people as me, He sends me brown eyed shadows. He amuses my childish heart with puppet play when appearing in person only to a few.

He is not really my Friend, He is not really my Beloved. Blue Eyed Real Jesus would never pull me into His arms, would never whisper that He loved me, would never cry, would never laugh. He would not do these things because He is very real and very important and very holy and He has important things on His hands.

When I finally appear before Real Jesus, I will be ashamed of the liberties that I took with His simulacrum. I will cringe in shame and slink away, grateful only for His stern, aloof but pardoning mercy, in order to grieve for the rest of Eternity for the Friend that I lost, the Friend I never had.

Jesus who pulled the child into His arms, who declared that of such were the Kingdom of God and to let them come to Him, Jesus who praised the meek, the poor in spirit, the pure in heart, Jesus of the meek and lowly heart, Jesus who defended the scandalous gestures of love from a fallen woman, Jesus who turned to tell the unclean woman who dared presume to touch just His clothing, that her faith had made her well, and to go in peace, Jesus who rested with John against His chest, Jesus who cherishes the childlike faith, Jesus who praised His Father for revealing mysteries to infants, for such was His will- that Jesus has been sublimated into Blue Eyed Real Jesus.

When Jesus went to heaven, He ceased to love the small and broken. He ceased to be available.

The warm hearted, human and present Jesus that won my trust and won my heart, He is only some strange mixture of my longings and holy inspiration, not the purest tincture.

I read the first passage of John, finding comfort in the familiar poetry.

I may know nothing else of Jesus, but I know that in the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God and the Word was God.

John freely confesses that he was not the Messiah. I have freely confessed that I am not seeing according to these standards. What I thought was the living Jesus were, according to these standards, only tattered picture negatives of Him, three times removed from the real thing.

Heaps of white tissue paper gathers up around me.

I am with you now, He says to me.

How dare Jesus keep talking to me!

“So You say,” I reply, wryly. “But how do I know?”

How can I trust Him again?

I search for the tenth chapter, always a source of comfort, even the my darkest of back-slidden days, but my eyes are caught by the red words above it: seen and speaking.

I read that passage.

"Jesus heard that they had thrown him out, so he found the man and said to him, “Do you believe in the Son of Man?”

The man replied, “And who is he, sir, that I may believe in him?”

Jesus told him, “You have seen him; he is the one speaking with you.”

He said, “Lord, I believe,” and he worshiped him."

John 9:35-38

Again and again I read this. Jesus says, “Do you believe in the Son of Man?”

How many times has Jesus asked me this, in essence- do you believe in Me? Will you stretch out your hand to Me? Will you come to Me, lean on Me, rely on Me? Do you believe in the Son of Man.

And the man says, “And who is he, sir, that I may believe in him?”

And I have said to Him- “Show me who You are. Who is the Son of Man? I want to believe in You. Show me who You are."

And Jesus says, “You have seen Him; He is the one speaking with you.”

You have seen Him.

He is the One speaking to you.

You have seen Me. I am the One speaking to you.

And the man said, “Lord, I believe,” and he worshiped Him.

Because to step out in faith, to declare belief, ends up in worship. That is always the way it has been for me; also for this fellow, who stands forever enshrined in this Gospel before Historic Jesus.

Your faith is precious to Me, Jesus whispers.

“So You say,” I reply, and then I am at a loss. Which way to turn? The simulacrum speaks. Doesn’t this Jesus know that He is only a figment of my inspired imagination?

All the years and the months that I cherished His voice, thinking, Jesus speaks to me, even to me!

Thinking Jesus is not far away from me, He is living in my heart, He is holding me in His arms. He opens His heart to me, even to me, the ragamuffin, the failure, the underachiever, the weak, the ashamed, the abused and battered child, the divorced and barren woman, self-centered and always frightened. Even to me.

When I was young, seventeen or eighteen, I stood in my room battered on the inside by doubts like a sandstorm. I had been praying in tongues for hours and the inner fog had only grown thicker.

How did I know which voice was Jesus? What if I was being deceived? I was crawling through the sandstorm on my hands and knees, but for all I knew, I could have been crawling away from Jesus, crawling toward the wavering voices on the wind of the storm.

Then, like the eye of the storm, a simple thought: Jesus knows all things. He knows my heart. He is in control.

“Dear Jesus,” I prayed. “I cannot see clearly. I may be going in the wrong direction. Please pay no attention to this. I am lost in the storm. But all I want is to be with You. Please look on the desire of my heart and not on my confused crawling.”

So I put myself in the hands of Jesus and there by faith I stayed all these years.

As I remember this prayer, fresh tears come trickling down my face. I have been struck to the heart and I am still bleeding out. I don’t think that I have ever been this hurt in my life.

Foolishly, yours truly the blogger, thought to join a site where other people heard and see Jesus. Foolishly, because I thought I fit in there.

How ridiculously childlike I was in my joy! I, the reserved and anxiety ridden, entered the group with arms open. I introduced myself. I scattered comments everywhere. I posted a vision that I had never shared anywhere else at all.

But when I shared my visions, I was told that I put too much soul in them. I had seen the circle divided into three parts on the side of the screen, asking us what would Jesus think, what would Jesus feel, what would Jesus want- but I thought surely that’s an illustration, not a philosophy.

I shared how, when at first I was full of doubt how could I be seeing or hearing Jesus, but that Jesus had gently built my trust by presenting me with one thing, connecting it to Scripture and then to the next. The first thing I shared was full of my doubts and how I kept putting my faith in Jesus; it’s written all through my story. You might even say it is the story.

I was told that authentic visions did not have any doubt.

Authentic visions. I sat there looking at the screen thinking, “I do not have authentic visions.” It was like a strange, painful pulse all through me.

What I had instead, it was explained to me, were a lesser kind of vision, a lower vision that was mixed up with the heart. I had too much heart.

Well, that was a blow, but I rolled with it. This journey I’ve been on has been over three years long and I have given Jesus all my trust- not part, but all. That kind of trust doesn’t shatter easily, so I accepted my diagnosis and posted another journal entry under Testimonies, not Visions, whose high places I had never seen.

I posted this journey entry largely the way I had first written it, which was largely the way I had experienced it the night before, a year ago. It was alive with Scripture, with Jesus. It was one of the most beautiful things that ever happened to me.

When the moderator of the group again asked me if this was a vision, I didn’t know what to think. Hadn’t she already made clear that I wasn’t having visions? Hadn’t I then publically accepted that? I thought that point had already been painfully settled.

So I wrote back saying, no it was this lesser vision that she had explained to me, and this was how long I’d been having them and this is what Jesus taught me about being with Him in this way.

Ah, the persistent delusion, that Jesus Himself was with me.

She was very gentle and loving, kind. She was uncertain about me. She didn’t think I was seeing with the eyes of the heart either and anyway, no one should stay there. I was all mixed up and had no three part cookie cutter clarity.

My soul and emotions and thoughts were smeared all through the experience like a child’s finger painting, which I had held up for the class, crying out, “Look at this beautiful thing Jesus has given me! He loves me. He loves you. Jesus is beautiful like this.”

She asked me what color His eyes were.

I felt as if someone has gently boxed me into a corner and was asking me for my spiritual I.D. But I had hidden nothing from them, from the first. I had already surrendered the sweet illusion of seeing Jesus in a vision. What more was she wanting me to prove?

Did you know that all the highest prophets in the country agree that Jesus has blue eyes and that He had blue eyes on earth? This is a secret kept by those in the know, those few that have actually spent time with Jesus.

I am not one of them. I have not really seen Jesus at all, not in any way that is real. Jesus has sent me sweet inspiration like pretty baubles for me to play with, but I have never really been with Him, because His eyes are blue.

That is my final diagnosis.

I sob so hard I cannot stand; I sink down to the floor and crouch there, gasping in a rasping, ugly way. I am so deeply hurt that I simply don't know what to do for myself.

Something in me wants to die. I am gasping for breath, I am shattered, my heart is crushed and giving off pungent, impure perfume. I am all emotion.

I thought I had finally found brothers and sisters with whom I could speak freely. I could say to them with joy, "I saw Jesus!" and they would not think me insane or egotistical, because they also had seen Him. They would know what it was like.

Instead, I was pared down and pared down until I stood there holding nothing.

"This is not true," they said gently. "You can't have that. This is not really Jesus. It's not for you to have Jesus. You haven't reached the necessary spiritual perfect to spend time with Him. Real Jesus would never spend time with you in person."

This is like my upbringing all over again. "You cannot approach the throne of God. Jesus is high above you in untouched, burning purity. Who can ascend His holy hill- only those with pure hands and look at how filthy yours are! You ruined your life and you cannot ever come into His presence."

In the evening, I stand with my daughter in my arms before the crib, knowing that I must pray. I begin again to cry instead. I have been crying now for three hours and my nose is raw. My daughter looks up at my face, my broken heart pouring down it. I can't hide my grief.

Sweet daughter, life will do with to you. This is a part of being human. This is what others will do to you, with the best of intentions, with love.

Forgive them, because as surely as you are human, you will unintentionally do this to someone else.

Forgive me, dear unknown readers, if I have done this to you.

In the nursery, my prayer is the wavering thread of my broken, bewildered heart. Which Jesus am I praying to? How do I know? Who is the Son of Man, that I may believe?

How could Real Jesus stand by and let this happen? How could I love that Jesus? I thought childlike faith was precious to Him.

I push past this. I cannot believe it. My faith is a small silken thread cast out past the dark, my faith is a tremor of my heart that cannot, at the last, fully die.

"Even now," I tell my Jesus, brokenly. "Even now, I love You. I trust You. Even in this."

You have seen Me.

I am the One speaking to you.

Lord, I believe.

July 13th

Last night I took the book down to find you. Lately my writing has been all parboiled and I wonder how I’m doing you any favors.

I know you told me to believe you in the every day but I miss you in the meantime. I speak this to the sink, the window, the landscape. I miss you, I miss you, I miss you. Don't leave me here without the sight of you, which is the breath of air to me. I can't help the way you made me; I can't do this life without you.

I remember again how the longing for you is a pleasure in itself, a doorway to a whole palace of rooms remembered.

In the book I saw you driven, going over the same old ground and loving that rich young ruler who went away sad. Looking at your friends, you said how hard it was.

*

I saw you last night. It took me by surprise, the throne you were sitting in, the angular planes of it. I was sitting in your lap and you wore a crown. Amazed, I felt with my fingertips just to be sure, never having seen it before.

I saw your eyes like lit amber looking into mine, the light that holds me still; I can see that I am known and welcomed for who I am, no more and no less loved. I saw your face, that almost scandalous human particularity- that you are even now the same person I’ve known before.

That I know you at all, that you love me, that I see you before me, it all enfolds me- I must lean forward, holding my breath and trace with my fingers those scars across your forehead and the creases that I love so at the corners of your eyes which look into mine easily, completely, holding nothing back.

I remember again the secret. You are meek and lowly in heart. God is a Lamb. This is a mystery at the heart of the cosmos, holding all together, the disclosed and crucified heart of God, that one low and pleasing note that promises harmony after the break.

I hold your face in my hands- your own human face! Realizing this is a series of moments opening each into the other and with each, I am losing myself more and more. I am nothing but worship and love poured out. It's effortless, it's all I can do. There is nothing but you. You are all that I want and all that I am to receive and I am nothing but yours.

Knowledge of the Holy One is like receiving one long breath of air that expands all the boundaries of faith into sight-

and sight into love -

and love into a loss of oneself

that is the finding of You.

Eternity might unfold in this way.

May 7th

Sometimes I am asleep, sometimes I am dreaming and sometimes I am in the inner place, breathing with Him. My dreams are like memories; yellow walls, a wooden floor, a chest of drawers looming out of proportion. Some feeling of dread filled me as I sank further into sleep, into the memory; I am propelled away from the dream by my fear. I go inward, where it seems I just was, before sleep overtook me.


"I don't want to!" I whispered to Jesus, alarmed, "I don't want to remember." Whatever it is, I don't want to fall any further into it. Memories are embedded in me like shrapnel, but on the edge of sleep, sometimes I roll into the hard edge of one, previously undiscovered.


Get up, He says kindly, get up and make yourself some tea.


So I throw the covers back and get up, leave the feeling of being smothered. I wish I could throw the windows open, I wish I could sit and write for hours, but I go downstairs. The shadows of the trees are cast against the bright white stones of the landscaping, moving in the wind.


The downstairs is quiet and sterile, the green everywhere outside trapped behind the window glass. I take Merissa outside as much as possible, in the morning to water the flowers and in the early afternoon to play in her swing and in the late afternoon to sit in the open garage to wait for Keith.


Still, I feel trapped in the house, closed down for the summer. I sit down at the computer and I wait for the water to heat. Sometimes in the afternoon, I turn on the television to see how the world sees itself, but what I want is to write and write and write, with the windows open.


At my desk, the verse on my flip calendar says,


"I long, yes, I faint with longing to enter the courts of the Lord. With my whole being, body and soul, I will shout joyfully to the Living God." Psalm 84:3NT


I feel that kind of dull, throbbing hunger in me and I try to push it away. I have too much to do to get caught up in that ache that can leave each day burst open and empty, my heart bruised, even when I'm in His arms in the inner place.


I've spent the morning writing about Jesus and it's not enough. It's glorious at first and intoxicating, to write and then all at once, it is not enough. Seeing Him through the writing becomes flat, a dead end. I knew this would happen. Still, each time I can't help the swell of joy as I am caught up in a creation born of love, and then the collapse later, when it falls short of the living thing.


Seeing through the veil is not enough. I throw myself into HIs arms and breathe, but it falls short of pure sight. I feel guilty about this, this insatiable hunger that waits in me. "Search my heart and know all my thoughts," I whisper to Him, laying my soul, my heart, open, wanting to be sorted through, sorted out and put right.


Jenny, I know your heart, He assures me.


He knows my heart and He loves me; I hear it all through His voice. He knows I'm the field sown with wheat and yet heavy with tares all tangled up in it, waiting, waiting, to be sorted out and lifted free, all that chaff shaken off and blown away by the wind.


But now I'm sunk down into the tangle of this present life, the pain sown into it. Right now, if I am to regain my peace, I must take up again my practice of the presence of God here and now, and do the one thing that I must do, with love for Him, with Him, and then the next thing and the next thing and let the longing fall back deep within me.


This longing is stretching me out thin and fine, it's burnishing me to a heavy gloss. It reaches so far that it stretches my faith out by necessity. I can try and escape the pressure of this burnishing, but in the end, I don't have the strength for it. I must wait and yield the moment over, where He is with me.


*


Slowly the west reaches for clothes of new colours
which it passes to a row of ancient trees.
You look, and soon these two worlds both leave you,
one part climbs toward heaven, one sinks to earth,


leaving you, not really belonging to either,
not so helplessly dark as that house that is silent,
not so unswervingly given to the eternal as that thing
that turns to a star each night and climbs —-


leaving you (it is impossible to untangle the threads)
your own life, timid and standing high and growing,
so that, sometimes blocked in, sometimes reaching out,
one moment your life is a stone in you, and the next, a star.


Sunset, by Rainer Maria Rilke
English version by Robert Bly
Original Language German