In love and light

There have been a handful of times in my life where clarity has come to me in a blur, somewhere between rest and restlessness. Beyond the tension of mind and muscle is a space of awareness that is sacred and serene. I know this space is held for me like a curtain softly blown aside by a visiting wind, so I surrender to receiving whatever is meant for me despite my limitations. Such a time came to me this week.

My mind was a battleground. I had a vague awareness of moving both beyond myself and deeper within myself. Most would label this state dreamlike; however, I am uncertain as my senses were engaged in a reality beyond the veil. I could smell smoke coming from newly formed ash. My shoes and the lower half of my jeans were covered in grey powder, and a small cloud of dust kicked behind my heels with each step I took.

I could see nothing before me but felt compelled to walk forward. As I walked, I heard moans behind me. If I listened long enough, the moans sounded like a siren call — tempting, begging, and admonishing me to look back. I knew what was behind me, and as much as I recognized it was not good for me, I longed for familiarity more than the unknown before me. I started to turn, but I never made the one-eighty. Something stopped me. Two somethings.

Rather than seeing the wasteland behind me, my view and movement were blocked by two giant warriors — angels equipped and created for battle. I could see their breath escape from their helmets and their chests heave underneath their armor. "Go," I heard one say. "Run!"

I ran into the dark, and as I ran, the siren calls became louder, screeching and screaming for me to return. The ground shook as the warriors lit the ground ablaze with each step I traversed. I turned my head briefly only to be blinded by the light and the reflection of the fire upon the angels' armor. What existed before me was no longer a mystery as the fire became light for my path, closing the past and revealing my next step.

Soon, I found myself in an opening of light — a buttery yellow that held a sweet fragrance and a calming weight. I heard myself giggle before I even knew I was making a sound. I was elated and filled with child-like joy. My clothes were no longer soiled, and I wore a flowing white dress. I was smiling as Jesus looked at me: His presence made my skin glow. On the circle's border were at least a hundred warrior angels standing shoulder to shoulder, fire raging behind them. Yet not one lick of a flame got past them. I was sheltered. I was safe. And I was being held in perfect peace by the light of the world. I wanted to stay there forever. Jesus knew my thoughts and said, "It is time for you to return, my child."

I grasped Jesus' hem and cried, "Please, do not send me back. Please!" But I could tell in the love spoken through His eyes that His decision was made. "Please, Lord. Please,” I said. “It is too sad there."

"I know," Jesus replied.

"It is too painful," I cried.

"I know," Jesus said.

As I continued to plead, with each retort of mine and every reply of His, I noticed that Jesus’ scars from the cross were becoming fresh wounds.

"It is too unfair," I said.

"I know," Jesus said. His skin was now tender and swollen. His gashes were thick and deep, and His eyes were filling with tears.

I hesitated to say more, but I spoke anyway. "But they hate me!" I yelled.

With these words, tears fell upon Jesus' cheeks. "No, my child," Christ said. "They do not hate you. They hate me.” Jesus was wiping my tears as I watched His fall.

“Be who I created you to be — a light that points to me,” Jesus said. “Stop looking back. You do not belong there. I have you. Stop forgetting who and whose you are. Stop living in fear. Live in faith. I am with you. Go."

And with Jesus' final words, I awoke with a flash of light that burned my eyes. Even my nostrils and lungs burned from the ash. The last sense to leave this experience was my hearing. I heard the warrior angels turn to leave me. Their commanding presence was unimaginable, yet familiar. Even after I fully returned to the present moment, the feeling of their company did not entirely leave… nor has it since.

There have been a handful of times in my life where clarity has come to me, and this experience counts as one of those times. As much as I yearn to lessen my suffering and the hardships of others, I remember the wounds Christ chose to take in my place so that I may live for Him in this world and for eternity. In this knowing, there comes responsibility and accountability. Thank You, Jesus. Please keep us moving forward in grace and mercy. Please keep us moving in love and light.

— Tiffany Kaye Chartier