11 months.

Tears stream down my face. All I see is ocean...

Lynn, do you have a sec?
Sure, what's up, Babe?
Well, I had this vision as I was praying and I wanted to tell you about it. 
Sure, he said, and listened as he rocked...

Well, you know how people sometimes use the salvation analogy of Jesus entering a house...? I've heard many preachers talk about Jesus knocking on the door, then we invite him in, we invite him into the living room, then he asks to see the house... We start taking him throughout the house (our heart) and he becomes gently invasive, asking us to open up closets we've kept hidden for years, etc...  

Well, in my vision, Jesus was walking with me through this house (representing my heart)... It was pretty well cleaned out, organized, tidy. We passed by closets that had been opened and sorted and cleansed... But then he led me to a mysterious door I hadn't noticed before... He stood by it and asked me to look.  Together, we opened the door. Before me lay a vast sea of dark blue water, tossing and churning. Waves were crashing up around the edges of this never ending expanse... It reminded me of a scene from the movie, the Truman Show, when Truman pushed through the storm and came upon a door... I wasn't in the storm, just looking out over it, knowing it was somehow inside "my house." What is it? I asked Jesus, as we looked on. But he didn't answer. What are you showing me?

I remember telling Lynn about this vision sometime last summer, maybe a month or two before his death. I can picture us talking about it in our old living room, but cannot see his face, or remember anything he said.  I think he just listened and let me process it out loud a bit.

I wondered what was behind that door. But I didn't labor over it. I wondered what it could mean. I knew no childhood baggage, even something severe that might have happened and been repressed all these years, could not account for the vast, tumultuous sea that had stretched out beyond that door...  But now I know. Now, I can recognize the sea. I can recognize the pain and grief and stormy weather, the crashing waves and forceful currents... It was a vision of this season, my season of grief, of sorrow upon sorrow, stretching further than my eye can see or my heart can seemingly bear...

The Lord showed me this before it happened. I am comforted in the memory of his presence, so sure and unshakable as we stood in the door frame, as we looked out across the dark waters. He is a good and gracious God. He stands unscathed by Lynn's death. He reigns over my heart, governing it with perfect peace.

The vision has changed, has altered a little... Now the Lord is outside... He has moved beyond the doorframe, outside the neat and tidy structure, to stand upon the waves. His feet are risen just above the storm.  His arms are open. Now come. He says. Come?!?!?! I say, my insides shrieking. No way!! I cannot. But my God is insistent. Come to me and walk upon the waves. 

Here I am, 11 months into this year from hell. My neat and tidy house is useless against the storm. I hear words echoing in my spirit... Come to me. Come to me upon the waters...

Do I dare? Do I trust Him that much?? Is He really that good? Is He really secure? Can faith withstand the wind and waves of grief and death and loss?? The horrible truth is, He knows I will follow Him.  Is it faith? stupidity? or plain curiosity? I need to know what will happen if I dare to take Him at His word...!  I need to see a faith that is real. I need to see His kingdom come and will be done on earth as it is in heaven...

So, I'm looking out, beyond the door frame of all that is familiar, into a mighty unknown... And the sea billows roll... I see the Lord standing out upon the waves, and know that I will follow Him there.