Inside my house is a room with a view.  It’s a place no veil nor shoe touches.  It’s that set apart place for holy communion. The world outside the window provides a reminder of the superficial physical light that cannot compare to the inner beauty that lies within these walls.  The window like an eye that sometimes just has to be closed in order to appreciate the true beauty of holiness.  The kind of holiness that envelopes the darkest places brought into the room by circumstances and placed deep within recesses of time appearing now making even the darkness light.

It’s a place of wrestling, a place of pondering, a place of repose.  It’s a place where flesh cannot stand and bones yield and a crown drops stripping everything bare until left with only an ear to hear.

Here a place of refuge I run and yet the wind, the fire and the shaking surrounds me and I long for one like myself.  I commit to die here for without the reflection of just one other who I can see as I AM what is life?  The wind blows with the noise of ten thousand upon thousands of voices.  The fire burns my soul encircling my mind searching for rest.  The shaking is reflexive as power descends and earthly things tremble.

I am not alone.  He is here, though I cannot see but dimly through the smoke and mirrors of this present world I know he is here.  He is not in the wind, nor the the fire nor the quaking of the earth but he speaks and the sound of his voice stops the singing…..

The whistling, crackling pounding of the wind, fire and breaking is silenced and in the stillness he calls my name.

Here no deals are made, no negotiating performed.  Here there are no actors.  Here there is just a command to stand.  No work, no toil, no labor, no offering, no sacrifice, here there is obedience.  Here faith is born.  Here the work is done, the price is paid and the future is endless.  Here he calls because he knows my name not because I love him but standing on in and compassed about by his love for me.  The host around me becomes clear, his face still dim to my eyes constantly attempting to readjust from the darkness.  I don’t know what he looks like but I can clearly see the Truth in his voice.

His voice is love that only comes when God moves the wind aside, puts his back to the flame and stills the earth in the cradle of his outstretched arm….still reaching further never stopping short and holds my head in his hands.  The word is always the same, “I was there in the darkness, I am here in the Light, I will return in the clouds hear my voice, know my voice, live in my voice.”

If you knew him only knew him you would love my Saviour too.


No manipulation here just the hand reaching out, the word spoken and life freely given.