Trust, again, is essential.
It is also your final lesson
in the field of time.
March 15, 1989
“How are you doing?” Kendra asks.
I cradle the telephone handset between my left ear shoulder, and try to continue washing the dishes.
“I’m washing the dishes. Again.”
“Yes, again. Too much nervous energy, I guess.”
I stop and walk away from the sink.
“This is crazy, Kendra. In a few hours you and a small handful of friends will be here, and I don’t have a clue what’s going to happen!”
“What’s the worse that can happen? It’s just among friends, you know.”
I lean against the wall. “But will they still be friends after this?”
Kendra laughs, but I don’t.
“Look, I’ll see you at seven. I gotta go downstairs to my office, close the door, and figure out how to deal with this, this, oh, hell, it’s good ol’ fashion fear, Kendra! And, by the way, thanks, for coming tonight.”
“Didn’t think I would miss it, did you? Just remember to come out.”
“Of your office! See you later!”
With that, the phone call ends, and I descend the stairs to my office.
Closing the door gently, I take a deep breath. Usually I love coming to this small room in the home I found so quickly after returning from Maui. It’s as quiet as a vault. But tonight it feels oppressive, as though the walls are closing in.
I step to the edge of my yoga mat, and launch into a series of standing postures, noticing how difficult it is to stay present, and trying to get my breath deeper than my chest is like pulling teeth. It tells me from there down, I am contracted in fear; fear like thick concrete upon which my asanas are faint chisel blows.
Coming down to the mat face down, I begin to work harder. But it’s no use. Finally, I just stretch out, still face down, and give up.
That is when I hear Him. No, first, I feel Him. Strongly.
More strongly than ever.
Hello, My brother.
And so we begin to take the next step
in an ancient Work shared before.
You have again given Me your trust.
I shall not leave you until all is done.
I ask that you open your Bible.
Please begin reading in Jeremiah.
Did I hear Him right? The Bible? I don’t even know where the damn thing is. Jeremiah? For some bizarre reason, all I can think of is that old pop tune, ‘Jeremiah was a bull frog’.
Rising from my mat, my eyes survey my bookcases. Hundreds and hundreds of books on philosophy, religions, physics, and what-have-you. I almost feel a disdain for them. For not one of them has helped me prepare for this strange journey with my unseen Visitor.
Scrounging about, I finally find it, buried beneath a stack of papers on a bottom shelf. For a moment, I recall how I deftly skirted anything to do with it during my university days.
I have to look in the index to find the page for the Book of Jeremiah. As I flip to it, the butterflies in my stomach kick it up a notch. Several, actually. Immediately, He speaks to me. God, His voice is so clear, that I can turn away and look out the window with no loss of connection, not unlike a friend talking to you while you attend to other things. Only I am unsuccessful at tuning this friend out!
Begin reading now.
I do so. As I reach the fifth verse, He stops me.
Please read out loud, slowly,
That you may truly hear,
For these are my words to you now.
Out loud. Slowly. Okay. I guess this is one of those moments that was sure to come when I said I would trust Him, after all.
‘Before I formed you in the womb I knew you;
before you were born I sanctified you;
I have made you a prophet to the nations.’
As I gasp, and feel that familiar nemesis strike hard and quick in my belly, He speaks again:
Now, read Verse Nine.
‘And the Lord said to me: I shall put My words in thy mouth.’
My mind, my breath, my body’s movement are all slammed into stillness.
I have chosen you because you first chose Me,
I shall direct you to those whom I serve,
those who have called out to Me.
for do you truly believe
you can possibly prevent Me
from speaking to those I send to you,
or distort what I would share
as I continue My Father’s will in service
of the Atonement of creation?
Again, I say unto you,
trust – together with your unceasing willingness –
is all that you need bring to our Work together.
It shall come to pass that, one day,
all will realize this is all that is ever needed
as miracles come to heal all suffering.
Heed not the voices of others,
but turn to Me,
and I am with you.
Trust, again, is essential.
It is also
Your final learning lesson
in the field of time.
The time is upon us.
Let us go,
and abide with those
who are now gathering.
Fear not, beloved brother.
His energy fades. I become aware of muffled sounds above. Voices, laughter.
I hurry to scribe what just happened, and the words He spoke. I have a feeling they are going to remain etched in my brain as long as the thing keeps working.
Upstairs now, I am barely aware of the greetings as I move to sit in a chair in front of the half dozen or so friends, all staring at me, wondering what is about to happen.
Touching my index finger to my forehead, and gently stroking downward to the bridge of my nose, over and over, repeating a prayer He instructed me to do whenever we join in this way, I feel the world recede away in the distance. The body itself becomes soft, and softer still, until it, too, seems to disappear in a mist of light and color, as waves of bliss and peace engulf me.
It all gives way and I am aware only of Him, perceiving us together in an infinite field of purplish light.
All things are prepared,
And now we will begin.
This is when I notice we are not alone. There seems to be a host, a large circle, of beings, all shimmering in light. All within this field of purplish light. I can vaguely make out my living room, and the friends sitting, staring at me.
No! They are staring at my body, and so am I! Only, I am looking down on it. Jeshua moves to a place just behind it. He seems, then, to move into it. It is the last thing I am aware of, until it is all over.
Thank you, My brother.
His voice startles me. Rapidly, I become aware of my body again. It’s a rather rude experience. I open my eyes, but it takes several moments before everything settles into things; people, flowerpots, chairs, walls. But it’s the people. Faces staring at me, eyes wide. Some with mouths open, all unmoving. They look stunned.
My body is vibrating, pulsating. Finally, I am able to speak, or should I say, stammer.
“Wh-what happened? There was this light and then…”
Silence. A long silence. No one has moved. Then, one by one, each rises. A few come to me and touch my leg, or my hand. But say nothing. In due time, everyone has left. I am still sitting in the chair, vibrating, pulsating in energy, with Kendra looking at me. That is when I notice the shining remains of tears on her cheeks. She speaks softly.
“He, He spoke. To each of us. One by one. Everything. Our lives. Lessons. Next steps, if we are willing. Things no one could know. His own life. I – I mean, no one said anything. We just listened. And it was palpable. You could cut it with a knife.”
“What?” I manage to say.
“The, well, the presence, the, the love.”
She finally rises from her chair.
“I think I’ll go now.”
I don’t seem able yet to get up and walk about. My legs feel like jello. Strangers made of jello. Kendra hands me a letter.
“I almost forgot. I grabbed your mail on the way in. Habit.”
I take the letter, and watch her leave. Whatever occurred, it has clearly struck her.
Everything is still vibrating. If I didn’t know better, I would think I just ate several hits of LSD, only its been years since I tried that, shortly after my return from Vietnam.
I open the letter.
You don’t know me. A friend of yours handed me a manuscript some weeks ago, at a lecture in Seattle. I must tell you, first, that I have been praying to discover and know the real Jesus. I know it wasn’t an accident she gave your manuscript to me.
I cannot tell you what this means to me. There is no doubt my prayer has been answered.
And I am writing to ask you if you would be willing to let me pay to have this precious book published. It would be an honor to do so.
Now, my own tears begin to fall softly. I am alone, but have never felt less so. Suddenly, it hits me full force. The sign! I suddenly remember His words to me:
Soon, there comes a clear sign unto you of the Work in which you participate, the Work of the Son’s atonement. When you clearly choose the active participation in this Work, there will be nothing which will not be provided.
I guess He wasn’t kidding. For the first time, I look at my watch. It’s after midnight. Over five hours have passed! I finally rise, gingerly, but the vibration isn’t abating.
Walking out through the kitchen, I open the door to the night. It is quiet. Stepping out onto the grass, I feel it. I mean, I really feel it. The apple tree seems more like liquid light than a solid thing. Even the bricks of the garage feel intimately charged with this liquid, vibrating light.
I walk down the steps to the street, and look up at the stars. Somehow, they feel more like they are inside me, than above me. I don’t even notice the cold. Clearly, something has begun. I have entered my own version of Brave New World, to borrow the title of that book. I hope the ‘brave’ part stays with me to the end of it. That is, if there is an end to it.
Turning back toward home, His presence is welcomed with a new ease, as if I have somehow figured out how to answer this cosmic phone line.
It will be dawn before, finally, this body sleeps. And, strangely enough, what comes with it, or the possible dawns to come, matters no more.
All things have been made new.
it is finished.
the choice is made.
coming as a thief in the night,
stealing the cobwebs
revealing the illusion
of a long-standing Dream
to the Son
The end of a lonely journey,
and the celebration
of one begun anew.
It is not a journey to,
Thus is My promise fulfilled,
for the Dream is burnt forever
in the glory of the Father’s presence.
does life begin anew.
does life fulfill itself.