It was late when we returned home from a Good Friday Seder celebration with our friends. I lay on my back in our warm bed. The radio was tuned to a fifties comedy program, The Life of Riley, but I wasn’t listening. I was lost in my thoughts, thinking about what it would be like to stand in the presence of God – to see Him face-to-face.

I stood alone in an enormous foyer, waiting to be summoned into the throne room. Three of the walls were paneled with richly polished mahogany. The fourth was covered floor to ceiling with a huge mirror. The ceiling, with its crystal chandelier was at least eight feet above my head. The floor was cushioned with a lush burgundy carpet, upon which sat a massive leather sofa and large round coffee table. 

I stood before the mirror and critiqued my appearance. I wore black cowboy boots. Their deep polish reflected the room and all its furniture, like pools of still water. I was dressed in a spotless navy blue military uniform with two rows of brightly colored ribbons adorning the chest. As I gazed at my reflection in the mirror, I realized that I was twenty-one years old again. I stood tall and straight; not quite at attention, not quite at ease. Standing six feet tall, slim and well muscled; I was perfect. I was the man I had been when I was at my prime. No, not the man I had been; the man I always wished to be. I wasn’t nervous or insecure in any respect. I was ready to stand before, and pay homage to, my Master, Savior, Lord and King.

Three young servants quietly entered the foyer. One of them, apparently the greater of the three said, "It’s almost time." He took a white robe with an ermine collar from one of his companions and draped it over my shoulders. Then he motioned the other servant to step forward. The lesser servant carried a four-tier crown, which the greater servant placed upon my head, one tier at a time.

"First, your crown of righteousness," he said, and he placed upon my head, a golden crown, spangled with sparkling diamonds, that glimmered with the radiance of a star filled night. 

"Next, the crown of life, which the Lord has promised to all who love Him," he said, and he placed above and within the crown of righteousness, another crown, studded with deep blue sapphires.

"Now," he said, "The unfading crown of glory, which is awarded to all who shepherded their fellow men." This crown was covered with scores of emeralds that glittered like the sun on a dew-covered lawn.

"Finally," he said, "I present you with this crown of joy and gladness, which you shall wear for all eternity." The crown was loaded with every precious gem I could imagine and it twinkled with every color of the rainbow. As he placed it on my head, euphoria filled the innermost corners of my being and a perfect peace enveloped me.

"It’s time." He said.

The greater servant led the way into the throne room and I followed him. The two other servants entered behind me. It was a massive room, perhaps a hundred feet long and half that wide with colossal gothic ceilings that appeared to be thirty feet high. There was a balcony along each side that was crowded with spectators, perhaps a hundred or more. As I gazed around, I realized that I knew most of the people there. The first face I recognized was my mother's. She stood elegantly in the front row and smiled when my eyes met hers. It was a smile of immense pleasure and great pride, a mother looking down on her favorite son and recognizing that he had become everything she wanted him to be. I saw Danny, my fourth grade friend, who was totally unimpressed that day I told him I had become a Christian. Something however, had impressed him though, because he was obviously one of God’s children now. I glanced to the other side of the room. I was enraptured with joy when I saw Mrs. Valencia, my sixth grade Sunday School teacher, who had died of cancer after we’d prayed all night for her healing. There was Becky a high school girl friend who had constantly scolded me for being immature and not practicing my Christianity. I rejoiced to see Tom, the first person with whom I had shared my faith and led to ask Christ into his heart. In the far corner, I saw David, my four-year-old brother who had died when I was seven. I had almost no memory of him, but I recognized him the moment our eyes met. These, and scores more, (some with whom I had been best friends, and some who were little more than acquaintances) had come to witness Christ welcome me into His kingdom.

Eventually, I focused on the throne, some sixty feet in front of me, and realized for the first time that unlike the foyer, this breathtakingly beautiful room was virtually empty of furnishings or decorations. All of its magnificence radiated from the throne at the front. It was as though a beacon of opulence permeated the room and filled it with elegance beyond explanation. It was more than just beauty; it was truth and purity and total love that adorned every corner of the room.

I stepped reverently forward, knowing that I was in the holiest of holy places in all creation. I was in the presence of GOD, and the names I knew Him by, Lord of Lords, Creator, King of Kings, Master, were all woefully inadequate to describe His presence. I saw Him face-to-face. In the instant my eyes met His, I understood the meaning, of Hebrews 10:31, "It is a terrifying thing to fall into the hands of the living God." Suddenly, I realized what I really was. I was not the tall, slim, immaculately dressed military man that those around me saw. I was not a righteous, royal prince. I was not the person those surrounding me in the gallery admired and respected. In that moment, I realized that I had entered the holiest of places and had desecrated it with my very presence. I fell to my knees in shame, removed the crowns from my head, laid them on the floor at the Master’s feet and backed away. Fear overwhelmed me. I shook with delirium tremors and begged for mercy. Every sin I had committed, every failure I had rendered, my every act of willful disobedience flashed before me. The wretchedness of my existence spewed forth from within me, and I soiled my uniform and robe with my own vomit. I clutched my stomach, pleaded for forgiveness and begged to be made as though I’d never been. I was undone. At any instance, and I prayed it would be sooner rather than later, a single word from God would cast me into the black abyss of hopeless eternity. I saw it coming, and I longed for it. No degree of punishment could exceed the hysteria I was experiencing in the presence of genuine holiness. I lay in a cold sweat on the floor for minutes, or hours, or perhaps only the twinkling of an eye. My terror was so complete that time was inconsequential.

A hand reached out from the throne of God and gathered me to it. It was Jesus, the Christ. He wiped the tears from my eyes and raised me to my feet. I slowly lifted my head and looked around. Of all those who stood in the gallery, not one had seen what I saw. Not one had seen my wretchedness. In that moment when I saw Him face-to-face, I had remembered what God had long forgotten. Then, with the touch of His finger upon my forehead, He erased every shadow of my wickedness, every spot of my uncleanness and every memory of my unworthiness.

I stood before the throne of God, a transformed being. The uniform had disappeared. My crowns lay at His feet; I had no interest in them. I was clothed in raiment of light. I was one with God.



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