I step into the throne room of I Am. I am overwhelmed with the beauty that I see.
A spiralled throne room reaching into the depths of the universe, glass and mirror cover every surface. The throne is mighty and glorious in its image and size – reaching high into the spiral. The light that is seated on the throne makes all else dim but still the mirror and glass shine with absolute graciousness. The floor of this throne room is circular and 7 golden lamp stands surround the room.
My neck strains as I dare see the end of the spiral– but I attention myself back to the light.
As I reveal the cards in my hand to one who sits on the throne, I feel confident that I am justified.
“Look at everything that I have done, and everything that I am doing. I do this all dutifully and not even out of my own will – that has to count for a good portion of praise! The early mornings, the missed family gatherings, the personal dreams drowning in this sea of duty, this prison that I call work. The smiling through agony as my heart is beaten but is standing to attention as to not let anyone in- is it all good enough?”
As he looks to me, graciously giving me the time of day, he leans forward to inspect these reasonable cards of mine – His eyes focussed on my efforts as his hands shuffle through my reasons. Why is he taking so long? My list was long but not long enough for the God of the Ages to take so much time inspecting them, is he looking for fault in me?
His eyes gaze to my countenance, he sits up and with grace overflowing like the ocean onto its shores he says to me,
“To obey is better than sacrifice.”
I hear the sound of my heart shatter into pieces, pieces that seem to resent one another – pieces that try with might not be placed together again. My words flee and my hands hang, tears choose not to fail me now, though they have been longed-after they are steady in allegiance now.
“Know that at this moment you are at your strongest because of me – waves get their might and roar from the wind. If you do these things out of duty, if you lay down this calf as a guilt offering – know that this does not please me. You have taken away the beauty and essence of the cross, you have torn down your flag of victory and for no reason have raised your white flag. Who are you surrendering to? Do you surrender to those that have been defeated?
The cross in all of its brutality is beauty. With each drop of water and blood the world’s ransom was paid. With each tear, with each word held back and with each piece of flesh ripped from its place on his back – redemption was spoken, it was whispered and shouted in victory.
Why have the scars of Jesus remained you ask? My child, it represents the brutality done to him for your freedom. With every lash from the whip a piece of him was ripped off and placed on you, his righteousness was placed on you in fleshly form. This brutality produced righteousness and beauty. His scars remain to remind you to touch his side and hold his hands – they will always point you back to who and what you wear with such boldness.
So my Ash, stop dutifully fulfilling expectation and put your sword away for there is no need to fight for love. Love has won for you and there is freedom in obedience and surrender – to me.”
Letters from the Lost 