I don't really know how to classify what is a "vision" and what isn't, but if I ever had any, these would be them. At least as far as I can remember. I was inspired to write them all down because the most recent one I've had was this past Sunday at church, which is the first one you'll see here. I think what separates them from just being my imagination is that they all repeated in my head over and over at the time I had them. They also brought me joy and peace like I have never felt before and I can't explain in words. I guess I'd say that's the Spirit. :)
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Imagine a father holding his young child in his arms while walking through a war zone. He just keeps looking at the child, nose-to-nose, telling it not to look anywhere but right into its father’s eyes. “Don’t look beyond my face,” he says. “Don’t pay attention to anything but me.”
That’s what I saw… kind of. Except the child was me, and the “father” was an inexplicable light. It was like the rays of the light were the arms that were holding me up in the air, above the world. Its face was a white glow covering the center of my vision, like how you would see when you walked into the sunlight after being in a cave for a week. In my periphery, the Light would only allow for peaks of the world beyond it to sneak through its rays. I kept trying to stick my arms through the rays in order to touch the vivid world of things the Light was keeping me from. But the rays would close in to block me, and the bright glow would swivel to the center of my focus, like a smudge on your glasses that follows you regardless of where you look.
The Light kept saying, “No Hannah, just look at me! Look at me, Hannah. Keep gazing at me. Don’t take your eyes off of me. Focus on me. I am better! I am worthy of forfeiting all of these other things you desire. Stay with me, Hannah. I love you, Hannah.”
Just like a father wouldn’t want his young child’s curiosity to cause it to see the horror of a battlefield, so does the Light want to save me from my fleshly desire to cling to this fallen world.
I’m on Georgia Tech’s campus, standing in front of the student center, facing the CULC. It’s sunny outside. I can see hundreds, maybe thousands, of people walking around campus as they usually do. But now I see something attached to each of them – a golden rope. It’s like it’s meant to pull each one upward, from the top of their head, indefinitely into the sky.
Some people’s ropes are tighter than others. I can’t see mine, but I can see that some people are even walking a little bit off the ground because they’re being suspended by an upward strength. Others’ ropes are so slack that it’s not holding them up at all, but the rope is still there. Just unused.
Then I notice that the ground isn’t solid – it’s a grey, penetrable abyss that can’t be measured. Each person is walking on a wire – like a tight rope – and the wires cross like complex roadways.
The people being suspended by the golden ropes that are tight and firm with no slack walk confidently, unafraid of falling off their wire. They’re smiling and bright – glowing with warmth. But the ones who have slack in their rope don’t notice the rope pulling on them, so they don’t even know it’s there. Some of these people walk along the wires as if they could never fall – they think they’re too strong on their own for that to happen – they ignorantly carry on as though they couldn’t fail. Crooked smiles and deceit radiate from them. Others walk meekly, timidly tip-toeing along so as to stay on their tiny wire. They look weak, crippled, small, and colorless – like they’ve lost their soul.
I’m on some kind of pathway. I can’t see a lot of detail. Everything around me is bright white. Two hands are placed on my shoulder blades, pushing me forward, hard. But my feet are skidding, heels into the ground, trying to push me back out of fear. When they finally succumb to the pushing and try to walk, they’re clumsy, like a child learning to walk.
Then I feel and see a bright force in front of me – an end destination – pulling me towards it. I can’t stay away from the Light. I have to go to It, and I long to. My eyes are immediately fixated on It in dumbfounded awe, but I can’t see exactly what It is. It’s too great for me to look upon or understand. But my doubt disappears.
So now I have every reason to move forward. I’m being pushed and pulled in the same direction by two forces way stronger than myself. But these feet are still unable to go forward. Why?
Then I see a man. He’s beautiful. He looks common, but I know Who He is. He’s the Carpenter, the Shepherd. He has a broom in His hands, and He’s calmly sweeping off the pathway in front of me. As He moves along ahead of me, always staying close, I’m able to start taking steps. One at a time, never able to move past where He’s already been. He’s looking at me, talking to me along our walk. Smiling peacefully, He knows I can feel His love – He knows I know He’s worthy of having servants do this for Him, but He’s doing it for me. He’s making the way to the Light.
