What if I wound up in heaven’s throne room today? Not dead mind you, but maybe there after eating pounds of chocolate and going into a coma.
Or better, getting transported there while reading my Bible or on my way to church or to give food to the hungry. You know, something good.
But however it is—if I wound up in heaven’s throne room today what could I be but speechless? Overwhelmed?
Such a place!
For a minute though, let’s not even think about God’s unimaginable grandeur. Let’s just think about the imposing wonder of heaven’s host of angels, all its Seraphim, the high-ranking arch-angels and all those too-terrible animal-like creatures doing who-knows-what around the throne of God.
Just imagine lil’ ole’ me there, right in the presence of all these holy-glowing beings. The stronger than anything-we-know creatures. Who knows? Even the angel they say wiped out 185,000 world-conquering Assyrian soldiers overnight might be there. Imagine all the powers who’ve soaked up God’s presence, light and goodness all these ages upon ages.
What? I think all that alone would reduce me to a cowering mass of—I don’t even know.
Maybe it’s more like this:
Maybe I’d tell them, “Move aside please,” and gently ease them out of the way as I edge forward looking only at the throne in the distance.
“Excuse me,” I might say. "One side, thank you. My Father asked me to come near.”
I’d tell them I’m sure they understood I wasn’t being rude, it’s just that my coming means so much to Him. It might actually be one of the most important things in the universe.
After all, we all would know and acknowledge with a nod that for a season He gave His Son, their mighty king, to death-itself so I could cozy up like this.
And I’d move closer and closer still because I’d been asked to visit. Visit with All Holiness. All Righteousness. All Perfection.
“Excuse me, Gabriel,” I’d say as I cut in front of him. “He called me because He delights in me.”
I know, I know. I should simply be dissolving by now but the sense of His acceptance is more overwhelming than my unworthiness.
I know the secret. I know I’ve been given a special invitation and a special covering. That’s the ticket! I come washed. I come sprinkled by the blood of Jesus Christ. I come in no other way and no other name but His. Certainly not in my own doings.
As I get closer the Ancient of Days recognizes Himself in me. He sees His likeness, His gift, His promise which—by His grace—I chose to believe.
The Creator of stars and galaxies and grasshoppers and pansies reaches His arms to me. He looks forward to our time together. We talk of many things.
Hard to imagine? Oh you bet. And maybe my telling it is rather fanciful but it’s essentially true. See Ephesians 2:13, James 4:8 and many, many other Bible verses and put the story together for yourself. You should put it together for yourself.
The real wonder is that it’s true right now without cosmic transport, heavenly vision or much imagining. Or pounds of chocolate. It’s true today in the muck of my life. With goosebumps or without, the invitation and the way are real. We're invited any time, by faith.
But I’ll cut this short. Someone’s waiting for me and I won’t disappoint.