- Jul 11, 2025
- 268
- 193
Speaking of Heavenly Things
Look and see! For the Kingdom of the Lord is an awe-inspiring array. His waters flow like a mighty river from His throne. Streams of living water cascade fluently throughout His court, and the waters themselves sing His hidden name.
From His throne rise pillars of fire, each blazing with golden flame. These flames expel life—breathing breath into the dead and answering the weary prayers of His beloved children, whom He hears from on high.
The court is filled with masters of divine craft—His chosen craftsmen. They dwell in both heaven and earth, and their works weave a shimmering golden thread. This thread glistens and spreads through the court, connecting to each of the Seven Spirits of God, and extending to His children, whom He so deeply loves. Selah.
Behold the crimson and gold carpets! See how this thread is intricately woven into everything in His court. I ask myself: What is this thread? Why does it hold such presence? But before the answer comes, I am taken to a giant, holy temple—where the Holy Spirit Himself dwells.
He comes as fire, as wind, as a blast of cool air. He knows I am here. His love surrounds me in this form and beckons me inward.
Inside the temple sits a single flame in the center of the room—burning in every color known and unknown. As I reach toward Him, His flame engulfs my arm, then consumes my entire being. The fire does not burn. It is as though I am breathing for the first time in my life—as if I had been dead until now.
Oh, how the body needs this fire! The soul craves it. Electricity flows like a current through my veins—His Spirit and His power surging through me. For just a split second, my eyes are fully opened. A glimpse—only a drop—and yet it is all I can handle. The depth of truth... unspeakable.
I fall to my knees in tears. How beautiful. How glorious. How radiant He is. My heart trembles with longing to embrace this small flame—to hold Him close with all my affection. The tears will not cease, for the beauty of His Person overwhelms me.
Words cannot express what I have seen. A song bursts forth from the heart itself. A voice—not from my mouth, but from within—sings into the echoes of the universe:
"This is the One I have cherished—the Wonder, the Glory, the Truth of truths."
And He sings with me.
We are then taken to a place I have seen in part—the Garden.
Here, the saints of old walk among the living. It is a sanctuary, a haven—the very bosom of God. I lay on the deep green grass with the Spirit. The air plays gently through my hair, like fingers brushing across my face. We walk side by side on paths of gold.
Suddenly, the paths become like liquid—a golden oil—yet our feet do not sink.
We arrive at a place where children gather—young and old. These are the ones He shares a unique relationship with, regardless of age or life’s journey. These are His precious ones. They pierce His heart with such affection that even the King of Kings stumbles back, overcome by love.
He sees me and welcomes me into the group. We sit at His feet. He speaks—not with lips, but with His very presence. His voice flows through the air like a sweet symphony. It vibrates through my body, embeds itself into my soul.
Then I am brought into a massive room—filled with every memory, every thought, every moment of every person He created. I watch as He observes them all like a film, placing Himself into their pain, their joy, their sorrows—as if each one was His alone.
How strong is my Lord, to carry so much. I see that He never leaves this place. I am so moved by His dedication, I sit silently beside Him. I do as He does. We share the burden—watching, feeling, praying. We light incense together and breathe it in.
And then, His name appears—not one I can see or speak. A hidden name, for the hidden ones.
Suddenly, a brilliant blue light bursts forth. We pass through what feels like a portal—into the room of the Father Himself.
He is a giant, majestic Being—beyond description. The moment I look, I must look away—not out of fear, but reverence. His glory demands it.
I do nothing. I wait.
And then He speaks: "Come."
I go forward—a tiny ant, a child, so small and meek. Yet, though His might is unfathomable, He lifts me gently and places me on His lap.
Every warmth, every truth, every promise, every good thing I’ve ever known rushes into me at once.
"Home," is all I can say.
Look and see! For the Kingdom of the Lord is an awe-inspiring array. His waters flow like a mighty river from His throne. Streams of living water cascade fluently throughout His court, and the waters themselves sing His hidden name.
From His throne rise pillars of fire, each blazing with golden flame. These flames expel life—breathing breath into the dead and answering the weary prayers of His beloved children, whom He hears from on high.
The court is filled with masters of divine craft—His chosen craftsmen. They dwell in both heaven and earth, and their works weave a shimmering golden thread. This thread glistens and spreads through the court, connecting to each of the Seven Spirits of God, and extending to His children, whom He so deeply loves. Selah.
Behold the crimson and gold carpets! See how this thread is intricately woven into everything in His court. I ask myself: What is this thread? Why does it hold such presence? But before the answer comes, I am taken to a giant, holy temple—where the Holy Spirit Himself dwells.
He comes as fire, as wind, as a blast of cool air. He knows I am here. His love surrounds me in this form and beckons me inward.
Inside the temple sits a single flame in the center of the room—burning in every color known and unknown. As I reach toward Him, His flame engulfs my arm, then consumes my entire being. The fire does not burn. It is as though I am breathing for the first time in my life—as if I had been dead until now.
Oh, how the body needs this fire! The soul craves it. Electricity flows like a current through my veins—His Spirit and His power surging through me. For just a split second, my eyes are fully opened. A glimpse—only a drop—and yet it is all I can handle. The depth of truth... unspeakable.
I fall to my knees in tears. How beautiful. How glorious. How radiant He is. My heart trembles with longing to embrace this small flame—to hold Him close with all my affection. The tears will not cease, for the beauty of His Person overwhelms me.
Words cannot express what I have seen. A song bursts forth from the heart itself. A voice—not from my mouth, but from within—sings into the echoes of the universe:
"This is the One I have cherished—the Wonder, the Glory, the Truth of truths."
And He sings with me.
We are then taken to a place I have seen in part—the Garden.
Here, the saints of old walk among the living. It is a sanctuary, a haven—the very bosom of God. I lay on the deep green grass with the Spirit. The air plays gently through my hair, like fingers brushing across my face. We walk side by side on paths of gold.
Suddenly, the paths become like liquid—a golden oil—yet our feet do not sink.
We arrive at a place where children gather—young and old. These are the ones He shares a unique relationship with, regardless of age or life’s journey. These are His precious ones. They pierce His heart with such affection that even the King of Kings stumbles back, overcome by love.
He sees me and welcomes me into the group. We sit at His feet. He speaks—not with lips, but with His very presence. His voice flows through the air like a sweet symphony. It vibrates through my body, embeds itself into my soul.
Then I am brought into a massive room—filled with every memory, every thought, every moment of every person He created. I watch as He observes them all like a film, placing Himself into their pain, their joy, their sorrows—as if each one was His alone.
How strong is my Lord, to carry so much. I see that He never leaves this place. I am so moved by His dedication, I sit silently beside Him. I do as He does. We share the burden—watching, feeling, praying. We light incense together and breathe it in.
And then, His name appears—not one I can see or speak. A hidden name, for the hidden ones.
Suddenly, a brilliant blue light bursts forth. We pass through what feels like a portal—into the room of the Father Himself.
He is a giant, majestic Being—beyond description. The moment I look, I must look away—not out of fear, but reverence. His glory demands it.
I do nothing. I wait.
And then He speaks: "Come."
I go forward—a tiny ant, a child, so small and meek. Yet, though His might is unfathomable, He lifts me gently and places me on His lap.
Every warmth, every truth, every promise, every good thing I’ve ever known rushes into me at once.
"Home," is all I can say.
