She approached the great white house and her breath caught in her throat such that she had to stop and stare. There were no other dwellings in sight for miles and miles – this was the only plot of land that existed, so the house that sat upon it must be the house she was looking for.
To call it a “house” felt to her the greatest understatement ever uttered. Even to call it a mansion or palace didn’t do justice to this monument she found herself almost too scared to approach. The gate to the front entrance gleamed in the endless sunlight; the walkway seemed to sparkle as if constructed out of liquid gold and jewels. Lush green grass surrounded the perimeter of the building and seemed to extend for days behind it, alive and alight with flowers and trees bearing fruit that seemed to beckon her fingers to touch and her lips to taste. Beyond the house her eyes caught animals from every family roaming and dwelling among each other, grazing the grass or romping through the bushes. It struck her odd that certain animals would be lying in the same field together, sharing the same pond of water to drink. That a young wolf would be curled up protectively around a brood of growing chickadees, or that a tender and innocent looking lamb would prance and tread so closely to a lazing lion that seemed to give not a thought to the prey which danced so close to him. It all struck her as so very odd, and yet so very normal that the animals would get along. Perhaps they were trained and raised up to be familiar with one another? Perhaps the Master of the House had taken great care to teach the animals to behave peacefully on His land? She couldn’t know for sure. Just that she was astounded.
She returned her focus to the house itself – it, too, seemed to extend for miles wide, and she couldn’t fathom how deep the house protruded into the field behind it. The walls would have appeared to be painted a plain white save for the way it seemed to sparkle, so clean and so pristine, and yet not sterile or one-dimensional. Light shone from and reflected off of the windows, and for a moment she genuinely wondered if it was the light outside that lit the house, or the light that shone within. They seemed to be one and the same. The features this house possessed in all its splendor would have once struck her as fanciful and superfluous, and now demanded her reverence – what kind of being dwelled within these walls? How sophisticated, majestic, and magnificent would He be?
She spared herself but one glance down to evaluate herself – had she taken any more time, she would have found herself running fast and far in the opposite direction. She hadn’t any clean clothes and so she wore jeans with holes in the knees and filth beginning to gather at the frayed and scruffy bottoms. What was once a white shirt now was a strange yellowish brownish color with stains she couldn’t quite identify…it had been so long since she’d been able to wash her clothes she was mortified at how she must have looked – and smelled. Her hair was stiff and slick with grease and mud, for she had fallen several times on her way to this house. Her fingernails were an absolute embarrassment, as were her toenails, which were plainly visible through the tattered and worn sneakers she donned on her feet. Her skin was caked with filth – a mixture of blood and dirt and sweat. What a picture she must have been – what a way to meet the love of her life’s Father.
He’d invited her home without really giving her much of a choice. It seemed one minute she was someplace else and the next she was standing here before this towering house. She really had no recollection of how she’d gotten from one place to the other, only that she was here and she was terrified. The only thing that drew her to taking a terrified step toward the front door was the knowledge that behind it He would be there, and He would love her regardless of how His Father saw her. She prayed and prayed and prayed it would be her Lover who answered the door – perhaps He would let her use the shower before introducing her to His Father. Maybe – just maybe – he would have a change of clothes for her. She didn’t want to meet His Father looking this way.
She’d left her place looking clean and well put together, or at least that’s what she’d thought. She’d fixed her hair, done her make-up, made herself as presentable as she knew how. He’d deserved that from her, she’d thought. Seeing as how she had absolutely no memory of her journey from her house to the vast one she now stood before, she couldn’t fathom how she’d gotten so utterly and humiliatingly filthy. She couldn’t face Him this way – she couldn’t meet His Father looking like this. She couldn’t, she just couldn’t…
As she resigned to turning back the way she came, she saw a shift in the light before her, and something inside her knew that she’d been seen. She now had no choice but to proceed toward the house – maybe she never had a choice at all.
Beloved…I’m right here.
She stopped in her tracks just a few paces from the door, whipping her head around in search for Him. She’d heard His voice – it was unmistakably smooth, gentle, and beckoning, a voice that assured her she was safe and wanted and loved. But He was nowhere in sight. Where had that voice come from?
Keep walking, Beloved.
She took a deep breath as she stood before the giant door, and knocked upon its wood as gingerly as she could manage – the sound seemed to resonate farther than her eyes could see. She heard a shift from within, and the door opened slowly. Once more, she held her breath.
Vast. That was the only word she could think of when she saw Him standing at the door. There was a vastness about Him she couldn’t describe. He neither towered nor loomed, but neither was He level with her. His eyes - if they were even eyes at all – shone brilliantly as He looked down at her, and her insides felt as if His eyes melted straight through to the heart of her. She knew not whether to crumble in fear or stand as tall as she could so that her own eyes could take in as much of Him as possible. Instead, she merely froze as they stared each other down.
“Hello.” He greeted, His eyes neither welcoming nor hostile. Unreadable. It petrified her.
His voice was like the roaring of a giant river. It wasn’t an unpleasant sound; it was the kind of sound that didn’t just fall upon her ears, but rather filled her as if she were an empty well suddenly being flooded with water. She took a deep shaky breath and opened her mouth slightly to speak, though no sound came out.
“What can I do for you, Little One?” He ventured further, sensing her inability to make any sort of intelligent words. He seemed to bend toward her, as a parent might bend to address a small child. She swallowed hard and tried again, willing any words to make the leap from her throat to the tip of her tongue.
“May I please come in?” She all but squeaked, her throat suddenly as dry as desert sand.
“Why should I let you in?”
His words stung her, though there was no cruelty in His tone. He didn’t speak condemningly, his tone was more inquisitive than interrogative. It wasn’t His tone that coaxed the tears to her eyes. It was the knowledge that she had no answer to give Him. What was she if not a beggar, with nothing to offer Him in exchange for His hospitality? She was filthy, she had brought no gift for her potential host, she had no wit, and the journey had sapped her of her spark. She wasn’t pleasing to look upon, nor could she seem to conjure any sort of intelligent conversation. She had nothing. She was shameful. Oh, why had she ever knocked upon His door?
He stood waiting patiently and watched her search the depths of her mind for the right answer. The password. The code. Within Himself He chuckled. What she didn’t know was that His Son was standing beyond Him out of her line of sight, smiling and waiting to see His girl once she’d been received by His Father. They’d spoken at great length about her, everything from her hopes, her fears, her heart, and her arrival. When He looked upon her, He saw what His Son saw – a lovely young lady without any real clue as to how valuable she was to Him. He saw joy and compassion, a gift for music and for connecting with the hearts of people. He saw curiosity and creativity. He saw a tenderness to her that was unique from anyone else whom He’d invited into His home. What she didn’t know – what she had yet to realize and understand – was that He already saw her as a daughter. He merely waited for the boldness in her to show itself, and allow her to own that claim.
Oh, sweetheart…come on…He beckoned silently, knowing He couldn’t reach out to her through His Father. She needed this moment to belong to her. He knew she’d get there, He knew she’d say the words eventually. It was, for Him, that moment of standing at the head of the altar, watching His bride walk slowly and steadily toward Him. He knew she’d get there – He just couldn’t wait.
Tears rolled steadily down her cheeks as she deflated within herself, knowing she had no good answer for this vast figure looming before her. All she had was her filth, her shame, and the only hope of a ticket through that door was the fact that He loved her just like this. Tear-streaked muddy face, weary feet, smelly clothing and all. He loved her, and that was all she had – it was all she knew anymore.
“My Lord,” She began, attempting to appear dignified over the sound of her own thundering heart, “I have no reason why you should let me in, especially not looking the way that I do. I know that I’m filthy, and I wish it wasn’t so. But I’m in love with your Son, and He invited me here. May I come in to see Him?”
He paused for a moment, feigning consideration. “You’re here because of my Son?”
She nodded, her eyes glistening with tears aglow from the light that reflected off of Him.
“I know it isn’t much, my Lord. But it’s the only connection I have.” Her face was full of apology, too full to notice the joy that glowed in His.
“Daughter, it’s enough.” He circled her with His arms, sweeping her up off of the floor in a sudden motion that jolted her stomach. The smell of Him was so inviting, she buried her face in His shoulder as He held her gently, rubbing His hand up and down her back. “Welcome home, sweetheart. We’ve been waiting for you.”
“Poppa.” She rolled His name around her tongue, savoring the familiarity in it. It suddenly dawned on her that this was no stranger who held her. Though her memories were foggy of the time before, she suddenly knew that this was the Father she’d leaned upon all along. How hadn’t she recognized Him now? Perhaps it was experiencing Him face to face that had stunned her beyond recognizing Him. But she knew this embrace, she knew this heartbeat. She remembered the warmth of His breath on her cheek. So many nights had she felt this feeling as she slept, so many mornings had she woken to the lingering sensation of closeness before the day chased away the cobwebs of those pleasant dreams of this, her Father holding her so close.
She opened her eyes and saw over His shoulder, the One she’d come to see. The One she’d been waiting for – or rather, the One who had been waiting for her. As if He knew, her Father set her down and gave her a loving nudge toward His Son who stood at the footsteps of a great staircase. Fighting the urge to run full speed into His arms, she took slow deliberate steps toward Him.
Oh, He was so beautiful. More beautiful than her memory could have ever done justice to. So beautiful her heart ached inside her chest – swelling inside her near to bursting. It was as if the core of her were being drawn in magnetically to Him, a pull so fierce she couldn’t have fought it if she’d wanted to – and she had no desire to fight it.
Before she knew where she was or what she was doing, she was on her knees before him, her hands wrapped around her ankles and her tears sprinkling His feet. Some strange mixture of elation and mortification overcame her, and she attempted to wipe the tears she’d spilled on His skin away. She felt His hand upon her head, and He knelt and took her hands, guiding her back to a standing position.
“Beloved, haven’t you heard? There’s no place for tears here.” He stroked her cheek with His thumb, drying her eyes. “Only joy.” A smile spread over His face.
After a few moments pause, she broke the silence true to the form she’d been created in.
“I need a shower.”
He chuckled, tossing His head back in delight of her. “No, Beloved. You’ll never need one again. Look.”
She looked down – her filthy clothes were gone and in their place was a gown spun out of the finest, cleanest fabric she'd ever worn. The tattered shoes she’d worn were nowhere to be found; her feet were gloriously bare. Her skin seemed to glisten much like His did, and when she shook her head, her hair ruffled and flowed, cleaner and longer and healthier than it had ever been. Somehow – and she could never fully grasp how – she had been washed clean, whiter than snow.
“Come with me, Beloved.” He took her by the hand and led her to His seat, a great throne lined with velvet in a shade she couldn’t quite name. The room was full of people, clamoring and laughing and dancing and celebrating. Everywhere she looked she saw the smiling faces of those who had arrived before her, some she knew from before, some she knew only through some faint thread that connected each of their hearts to the One who was now escorting her to sit beside Him at the banquet table. Never had she heard a chorus of such sweet melodies and harmonies, a sound so full it seemed to rise and burst through the ceiling to touch the sun-soaked sky. They were praising Him. Calling out His name with joy in their voices. She joined in the chorus at times, though mostly she sat there, basking in the glow of Him. He reached over to her, and instead of taking her hand, he framed her face with His strong but gentle hands.
He was touching her – Oh, God, at last He could touch her! – their hearts thought together, in perfect synchronization. Finally. She lifted her fingertips to brush the inside of His wrist, and before the crowded throne room in the midst of their songs of praises and celebration, He bent His face to hers.
When their lips fused, it wasn’t with the passion she’d known on earth. It wasn’t soaked with lust or longing. It was unlike anything her lips had ever known, a sweetness and a power her mind and her heart couldn’t have conjured in the depths of her imagination.
When He pulled away, every trace of her tears was gone, and in their place rested a joy she knew would last for the rest of eternity.
