When I close my eyes to meet with Jesus, I end up somewhere like this:
I stand on the mountaintop and wait for Him, and He comes in the wind blowing through my hair and over my bare toes. And I close my eyes to listen to what He says to me.
I’ve been wrestling with a picture of myself, and the things I believe about myself in the ugly parts of my heart. He could choose to turn my eyes inward, when I close my eyes to meet with Him, but instead He puts me on that mountaintop to look outward. He could point out the truth in the ugly things I believe about myself. He could agree with me, after all, when I repeat to myself the accusations my enemy brings against me. Aren’t there crumbs of truth in every lie? When I believe I am selfish, well… aren’t I selfish?
He could choose to turn my eyes inward, to deal with my sin by slicing me open. To allow condemnation grow on my heart like cancer – grow even on the good part of my heart that wants to make Him happy with me.
But when I close my eyes to meet with Jesus, He takes me to the mountaintop. And to Him I am always the same there – in the same dress, with bare feet, hugging myself against the chill of the wind that means He is there with me. I do not have cancer. I am not falling apart. I am not worried about falling apart. I am on the mountaintop, inviting the wind to move through me and bring His voice. When I look outward, I see the world that He made, the world where He is. I see who I am, and I know who He makes me in His presence. And that is all there is.
When you close your eyes to meet with Jesus, where does He take you?