The Journey

Life. All around her is pure, living life. The greens seem to sing and dance as she walks through a meadow of tall grass. The trees bow and whisper, the greens and the browns seeming to move of their own accord. The flowers... Oh, the flowers! They throw their sweet fragrances into the breeze! The colors are so, so deep and so, so rich. The sun shines like gold. The sky is blue, so blue it couldn't be described!

Her hair flows down her back in gentle waves. The breeze plays and tugs at her hair, pulling her closer into the trees. An air of happy excitment intoxicates her. She walks forward, towards the happily beconing trees. She feels, somehow, that she's been here before. She feels, in an odd sense, like she is finally, at last, home.

As she walks forward, she remembers times when she had cried bitterly for a home she had never seen, but felt all the time. She remembers times when the pain overwhelmed her, and she thought of this place. This place of life. Of freedom. Of peace.

Voices. Voices waft her way, helped along by the ever-moving trees. They are clear, joyful. They sing of hope and love and peace. They ring clear and true, each note sounding like water poured into a metal basin. Some sound like flutes, others like trumpets. The young woman begins to jog, curiosity and anticipation beginning to overwhelm her.

Quiet. Suddenly, everything is quiet. The colors, they fade. The voices blend in with the wind. She hesitates. Maybe she shouldn't go that way? Who do the voices belong to? How could this place be real? Perhaps she should go back.

Things begin to fade. Her heart grows heavy. She shakes herself. No, not again. I will not give in. Never. Never again. She presses on.

The grass grabs at her. The breeze blows against her. Go back. Go back now. You don't belong here. The voices grow fainter. The woman hesitates, unsure.

Press on. This voice is different. Quiet, like a faint breeze, loud like a crack of thunder. Comfortable, yet intimidating. Encouraging, yet somehow scary. Press on.

No! The breeze blows harder, roots begin to spring up, tripping her. Go back! You don't belong there! Colors begin to darken. The woman slows down even more, begins to look around. She forgets exactly where she was going, and why. She begins to turn around, as though dazed.

No. Press on. Press on, beloved. Press on. That voice again. Soothing. Hands are on her shoulder. Unseen. They try to turn her, becon her back towards the woods. Suddenly, the voices can be heard again. She wakes up, turns around. Detirmined now, she leans into the wind, fights it with all that she has.

It's hard! It's so hard! Where am I going? Who are you? Why am I here? No answer. She walks on, growing weary. She thinks about the place she came from. It was boring. Redundant. The same thing happened every week. Didn't matter what month. So boring. And lifeless. So little color. So little room to breath. No time to think, to relax. So much responsibility. I'm still just a kid! She doesn't understand. She wants to stop. So much easier to give up.

No. I can't give up. Not now. Not ever. That's dumb. I can't stop. She grits her teeth. She can't stop. Every fiber in her body forces her on.

The wind intensifies. Go back! She ignores it. You won't make it! You're weak! You're lazy! You're unlovely! You don't belong there! Again, she falters. Is this true? Her life told her so... Yet...

Press on. You can make it. You're a fighter. You're my lovely warrior. You are mine. Press on. Hope. Hope pushes her on. She doesn't quite hear this voice. She doesn't understand it. But He believes in her. He's perhaps the only one that belives in her sometimes. She smiles slightly, and presses harder.

The wind lessens. The voices are heard. They are singing songs of praise. To who, she doesn't know for certain, but that voice... It has to be the owner of that voice. She wants to join them. She knows she can make it. He said so. He believes in her. She can make it.

She reaches the trees. Just around the corner! At last! Her trials, they're over! NO! You cannot go there! You must go back! The voices, they are angry. They don't want her to go forward. They'll do anything to keep her here, hostage.

No. I'm going. She presses on, detirmined. Screaming. The voices are screaming. She ignores them. She listened to them for too, too long. No more.

She can hear the melodious voices, rising above all the others. She begins to run, dodging as many trees and bushes as she can, picking herself up time after time when she trips over tree roots. She can't think. She has to focus. The whole forest is against her.

Surrounded. She's surrounded. At first, she's scared. Then she realizes her new companions are picking her up when she falls, catching her whenever they can before she hits the ground. They whisper encouragement, wielding swords whenever needed.

Keep going. You can do it . She believes them. You're almost there. She runs faster. The clear, lovely voices grow louder.

Help them. She stumbles upon a group of people. They are caught in bushes. Some have roots twined around their ankles. They can't move. She could move on. It would be dangerous freeing them. The forest is alive. They look hopeless. Like her, when she wanted to turn back. Help them.

She stops, begins to tug and pull on them. The won't move. She tries to show them her new friends, but they don't see. She wants them to hear His voice, but they are deaf. She feels horrible. She wants to help, but how? One of her new friends holds out a sword.

Attack the lies. Kill the deciet. Free them. She takes the sword. One person, only one, begins to wake, begins to stuggle. She goes to him, and swings her sword. Nothing. She swings again. He sees her. She tells him to fight the lies, and he hears her. Now together they fight, and at last he is freed. They are hot and sweaty, but he is free.

They move around the group, freeing those who can hear the voice of Truth. They free many, but many more cannot see, cannot hear. They sadly leave them, as the harder they fight for them, the more the forest fights. They can't win without the help of the captives.

Their journey is long and rigorous. They fight many foes, win many battles, and lose just as many. Their group mulitplies. Some fall behind. Others are overtaken by the forest again, and this time they cannot fight back. Their hearts grow weary. They want to stop. It's so much easier to listen to the lies.

Press on. Don't give it. Listen to My voice. She listens. So do many others. They can see the end of their journey. The going gets even harder. More fall behind. Those that remain are stengthened.

At last! Oh, at last! They weep with joy as they look down into the valley! It is teeming with life, and He is there! He is magnificent! His dark hair flows around his face, whipping in the wind. His eyes burn like fire, his face shines like the sun! All who see him stand in awe, and tremble in fear. His robes billow intimidatingly. He could crush them in an instant. She steps forward, trembling, yet joyful. It's Him!

Can this be? Is it- Is it really, truly you? She steps forward, reaches out. Her friends, the ones that helped her, run towards him, lifting their lovely voices in praise and adoration.

Holy! Holy! Holy! He is worthy! He is the King of all kings and Lord of all lords! They bow down at his feet, their faces shining with joy. He smiles, and suddenly he looks so kind, where before he looked so hard.

You are my Beloved, little one. You are my lovely warrior. Strong and fierce. Graceful and lovely. All who see you see Me, even if they don't know it. I love you, dear Beloved. Come here. She runs. With all her heart and mind and strength she runs. She runs so hard and so fast she seems to fly. She flys without wings. She is mounted on a steed of pure white, and together they gallop towards their Creator. Oh how she loves him! Words can't describe her pure joy! Faster and faster they gallop, until at last she can leap into His arms, tears of joy and laughter bubbling from the very core of her being!

Oh my God! I love you! Thank you! I love you! No other words could describe her joy. They are simple, but they are enough. He holds her close, his strong arms breathtaking in their power, his face blinding in His holiness, but at last she can look upon him.

Well done, good and faithful servant. Well done.


(I didn't write this. Click here for the original blog.)