Suddenly, I was in a blank white room. Although I had just been walking outside, I was suddenly seated in a comfortable chair at a high table. Across the table there sat a man, somewhat familiar looking, despite a startling appearance.
He was clothed in a deep purple robe and had shoulder-length white hair, which matched the wispy curls that covered his face, in a picturesque mustache and beard. His look reminded me of old paintings of Socrates or even of God (the kind that are painted on the ceilings of old churches), but there was one notable difference: his nose was not nearly as pointy as all of those old depictions tend to show it.
The upshot of this rounded, almost knobby schnoz was that this man, whether he was God or Socrates, looked far less stern than his other characteristics would lead you to expect. He actually looked quite a bit like Santa Claus on a diet (I was pretty sure that wasn't who he was, though).
In fact, very soon after my strange transportation, I was sure that wasn't who he was. He said to me, in a voice so jolly it made Santa Claus look like Bobby Knight,
"Hello, Joe!"
Considering how sudden and odd this change of circumstances was, I actually accepted it all rather quickly. Without much of a pause, I responded:
"Hi!"
It was a happy response, given in good cheer, because there was something about this guy's demeanor, a sort of silent energy, that was contagious. And he spoke English. I quickly ruled out Socrates.
"I suppose you're wondering what you're doing here," he stated matter of factly, but with just as much light-hearted mirth as his greeting.
"Well, yeah--I certainly am," I responded, "but I'm also curious--who are you?"
"Who am I? Well, you're not the first to ask that question, but the full answer would take a little longer than you might realize, so...let's shorten it up by saying that there is one word which would point you toward who I am. Would you care to hazard a guess at what that word is?"
"God?"
"Yes! Such a wonderful boy, you are! I am God."
"It's nice to finally see You face to face!"
"Well, you're not really seeing Me face to face. If you truly saw Me face to face, things would be a little more intense than they are right now. Think of this as a vision."
"Okay." I sat expectantly, waiting for the vision to continue.
Nothing happened. God just sat there, staring at me, smiling.
I stared back, and realized that this His eyes were the most arresting thing about Him. I've heard the eye described as the "window to the soul," but I never really understood how much of a window it can be until I saw His eyes. The longer I stared, the deeper those piercing jewels became, telling stories, stories of woe leading to redemption and ending in joy, all without words, without images. It was fascinating, sort of a unified magnification of all the eyes I'd ever looked into, but with something more added, Something huge and full of energy and love. Suddenly the silence was broken by His voice:
"You never have to feel lonely, you know."
His words surprised me. The deep joy in His voice was overlaid now with a measure of concern, which may have been there the whole time, but was more noticeable now.
It took me by surprise, but I knew exactly what I wanted to say to Him. Not angrily, but with a genuine thirst for understanding, I asked:
"If I don't need to feel lonely, why have I felt that way? If You are so close, how come I never heard You speak back to me?"
"I tried. But you can't talk to someone if they aren't willing to listen.
So many times like today...you walked, thinking you were alone."
There was something in how He spoke and looked at me, something so close to every memory I had, bringing up days and feelings long past, things that even I had forgotten about--all at once, vivid as life itself, and with such understanding and compassion, but mixed with a sense of painful incompleteness, that tears welled up in my eyes. I had been hit full force with the melancholy of memory.
I found words.
"You were there the whole time. I knew it, but not like this. I didn't realize...I'm sorry."
He didn't acknowledge the apology, but responded:
"I have spoken to you all of your life. I have spoken to you through my Word. I have spoken to you through your family's love. I have spoken to you in all the times of joy. I have spoken to you in the leaves of Fall and the snows of Winter, the warm breeze of Spring and the cool rain of Summer. I have spoken to you in every moment of inspiration you've ever had. I have spoken to you by creating you. I have spoken in many ways, even many ways which you cannot yet understand, but my message has always been the same. Do you know what that message is?"
He didn't have to ask, but He did. With tears streaming down my cheeks, I responded:
"I love you." The light in the room was getting brighter with our every word. I sensed things were coming to an end.
"Yes! I love you, too! Above all, remember that! And tell everyone you meet that I love them, too!"
My vision was fading as the light expanded, brighter and brighter, into a world of True Light, and when I could see no more--my eyes shut tightly,
and I was back on the ground outside.
My eyes were fine. My face was dry. Nothing on the outside had changed, it seemed; but the first thing I saw was a tree whose yellow fire matched the blazing of my own heart, and so I pressed on toward my destination.
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