Traveling the realms
From the upper room to the basement, on the main floor and out the door. These words were written on my mind, and then spoken to my son when I returned home from a walk. I explained to him the prophetic meaning: that he had traveled to heavenly heights, been pulled into the basement of despair, was being prepared for the main floor of life in this world and that he had yet, to walk out of the front door: a reentry as a citizen, not of this world but of Gods Kingdom.
Competing voices, which one is Gods
My son had been away, on a sojourn of sorts: a mental, emotional, spiritual, physical removal from what is normal, average, mediocre and considered "safe" in the world. He went away temporarily and then, miraculously, he came home.
From the upper room to the basement, on the main floor and out the door. These words were written on my mind, and then spoken to my son when I returned home from a walk. I explained to him the prophetic meaning: that he had traveled to heavenly heights, been pulled into the basement of despair, was being prepared for the main floor of life in this world and that he had yet, to walk out of the front door: a reentry as a citizen, not of this world but of Gods Kingdom.
Competing voices, which one is Gods
My son had been away, on a sojourn of sorts: a mental, emotional, spiritual, physical removal from what is normal, average, mediocre and considered "safe" in the world. He went away temporarily and then, miraculously, he came home.
As I type, I see that while the house we occupy in our bodies served as a haven physically, this is not the home he craved or sought. He had come home so that he could freely travel the inner worlds. He needed time in a sanctuary, alone, isolated, dedicated to understanding himself, his reason for being and ultimately, to hear past the competing voices, the ones that loudly shout at each of us from outside of ourselves and echo their refrain in our minds. He needed to hear Gods voice... in the still, the deafening quiet, the seclusion of body and soul. He was not well and he needed the healing balm, of home. He became a Holy Hermit.
A moms desperate plea
My son was not himself. It was obvious, observable, distractingly disturbing at times. There were places he had seen in his mind, in his spirit: at first glance, it appeared he was irretrievable. I could not go in and get him. I could not enter the world he occupied. He had gone in alone, or so it seemed, and no one had the secret pass code, the wink and a nod magic, the membership handshake that permitted entry. In my weakened state, I was at times desperate and wept, face to the ground, pleading with God to pluck my son from the edge, the precipice. Over and over again I heard this scriptural refrain, spoken by Jesus:
And he said unto them, This kind can come forth by nothing but by prayer and fasting (Mark 9:29)
And so I did, I prayed. I prayed day and night. I prayed desperately, hopefully, sorrowfully, joyfully, quietly, loudly, while weeping and singing and shouting and whispering. In my weakness I was brought low, down upon my knees and it was then and always is, dear reader, that God becomes our strength, our answer.
God enters into secret places
God is the secret pass code, the wink and nod magic. My son was not alone and never had been. He traveled the universe, the heights of heaven and the depths of despair and was redeemed, retrieved by The One and only Original King that grants membership to those who wish to enter into His kingdom. My son, he is sound, of mind, body and spirit, fortified in his faith. He works, he relates, he contributes to the household and he is no longer held captive. He is free, in Christ.
A moms desperate plea
My son was not himself. It was obvious, observable, distractingly disturbing at times. There were places he had seen in his mind, in his spirit: at first glance, it appeared he was irretrievable. I could not go in and get him. I could not enter the world he occupied. He had gone in alone, or so it seemed, and no one had the secret pass code, the wink and a nod magic, the membership handshake that permitted entry. In my weakened state, I was at times desperate and wept, face to the ground, pleading with God to pluck my son from the edge, the precipice. Over and over again I heard this scriptural refrain, spoken by Jesus:
And he said unto them, This kind can come forth by nothing but by prayer and fasting (Mark 9:29)
And so I did, I prayed. I prayed day and night. I prayed desperately, hopefully, sorrowfully, joyfully, quietly, loudly, while weeping and singing and shouting and whispering. In my weakness I was brought low, down upon my knees and it was then and always is, dear reader, that God becomes our strength, our answer.
God enters into secret places
 |
| Heavenly Heights, a great view |
The healing has been sealed: a friend taught me this recently.
My living hell was real
This all may sound neat and clean, trite and simple. It is not and was not. My living hell was real. Parents can never separate themselves from their child's pain and suffering. It is an impossibility. Which is why we must look to the Father, and his Son. The love that is painfully undeniable when there is separation:
For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life (John 3:16)
While I watched, I had to give my son up, over and over again, to our faithful loving Father in heaven. He knows what to do when we don't. All that was and is still, required of me, is to pray. The promise, the prophetic answer, is that God can, and will, do the rest: and He has.
My living hell was real
This all may sound neat and clean, trite and simple. It is not and was not. My living hell was real. Parents can never separate themselves from their child's pain and suffering. It is an impossibility. Which is why we must look to the Father, and his Son. The love that is painfully undeniable when there is separation:
For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life (John 3:16)
While I watched, I had to give my son up, over and over again, to our faithful loving Father in heaven. He knows what to do when we don't. All that was and is still, required of me, is to pray. The promise, the prophetic answer, is that God can, and will, do the rest: and He has.
No comments:
Post a Comment