I followed Him down the dark, winding, stone stairs. The footing was uneven, the walls more so, grey and dry, with traces of the tools which carved out this subterranean shaft. He paused at a door on the left and grasped the heavy iron handle. The worn, wooden door creaked open. I followed Him up the step to the dark room, lit only by a shaft of light entering somehow through a high opening in the cave-like wall to my left. He lit a lamp and held it high.

With trepidation I stepped through.

The long rough-hewn room was piled with boxes. Big boxes. Small boxes. Neatly piled boxes. Disordered piles of boxes of mismatched sizes. Some boxes were sealed shut, others half open, and a few had their flaps folded back. A shelf ran along the opposite wall. A few smaller boxes sat on it next to what could be trophies, pictures, wooden boxes.

My heart sunk. This dusty room must hold years of  junk, all of which He must want gone through, sorted, remembered or relived. I had discarded it all, it seemed. Tossed it here in hopes it would be forgotten. Overlooked. Deemed as if it was not.

“Oh, no,” I murmured, wondering what He had brought me here to see in these boxes. I sighed, expecting a painful session ahead. What would I find in these musty, dusty containers? Old failures? Painful reminders? Heartache or disaster? Defeats. Old yet ever present shame?

He stood surveying the room with a half smile. He set the lamp down and reached into a nearby box, lifting out a cube. He gazed at it then held it toward me.

“Remember this?” 

He asked, smiling. “This was when you made the vow to yourself, ‘No Bible – no breakfast.’ I was so proud of you! You followed that mantra for years.” He polished the cube until I could clearly see the 3-D image embedded in it: a young me sat in a tent on a rumpled sleeping bag, reading a Bible in early morning light.

To read more about how He sees, check out https://godcolouredwords.com/in-a-world-where-colour-is-forbidden-there-are-still-dreams-of-colour-search/(opens in a new tab)Puzzled I looked from the cube to Him and around the room. “I don’t understand.”

He grinned. “I carefully packed away each of these. The boxes are filled with memories from your life that are precious to Me – moments when your choice, thought, prayer, or action warmed My heart. Every item here is precious to Me.” 

“But … but all these boxes…?”

“You have followed Me for a long time.”

“But … I’ve failed so many times!”

“Have you?” He looked around the crowded room. “I don’t see any of those times here.” He pointed to a trap door in the far corner. “Anything that didn’t belong I tossed out. I only keep the positive, the moments of obedience, the outworking of your love for Me. All others have been covered and thrown away.” He looked back at me. “Shall we open these?”

His smile was fond and proud and lit that stone room with joy and love that outshone the lamp. Together we moved to look into the nearest box.

For more on how He sees, check out https://godcolouredwords.com/in-a-world-where-colour-is-forbidden-there-are-still-dreams-of-colour-search/(opens in a new tab)