The Constant

There is no one in sight. I walk through a fragile field. The firmament stretches infinitely high above me, dotted with white points of light. To my right the wailing moon peeks his head over the hilly horizon, while far off to my left the sun sends its last cheerful fingers of light over the distant mountain range. I am in the center of this dreamlike world, drawn north by an impalpable force.

Tall, yellow grass tickles my lower legs. I watch it die, fall over, and decompose. A baby aspen tree springs up to my right, and it grows into a mighty being. It is followed by a pine forest, spreading out before and behind me. A spark descends upon the dry summer forest. The fire rages, charring all the green off of the trees. They fall over and decompose. Now I walk through a newly fertilized field of flowers; their soft petals give way under my feet. A hailstorm begins and tears each petal and leaf to shreds.

“The world is variable,” I whisper to myself. “There are no constants.”

I look ahead and behind and all around. The field is enormous. Its wideness, its infinitude, makes me dizzy, and I pause momentarily, closing my eyes with my head in my hands.

All this time, I had felt utterly alone, like there was not a single soul within a thousand lightyears of me. But as I stand there, closing my eyes, I suddenly sense a huge, overbearing presence. The feeling that someone is there weighs me down and presses in on me from every direction.

I open my eyes and search for whoever it may be. But I am suddenly aware that it is not a who by any normal sense of the word.

I am surrounded by the presence. The field, the mountains, the stars, the blades of grass and grains of sand—that is it. I am inside of the being; I am inside of Him.

An echoing, soft voice responds to my statement.

“I AM the constant.” The voice is gentle like a loving father’s, powerful like a king’s, and even sweet like a lover’s.

My eyes search for the source of the voice, but I see none. My trembling is calmed by a soft breeze that comes from the east.

The wind weaves through the fingers of my right hand. It is so calming, almost tangible. Then it becomes tangible.

I gasp in surprise and turn to look. A strong hand is grasping mine, while another hand slowly lifts up my chin to look into His face.

The features are fuzzy and undefined, and I know I will not be able to recall what the face looks like. But I know that I will always remember, never forget, the look in His eyes. It is joy, delight, and love. It is empowerment and perfection. He smiles at me with favor.

Love has swept over me.

“I AM the eternal constant,” I hear, but not see, Him say. “You as well, my child, my servant, my beloved, are an eternal being. You will dwell with me forever.”

He leads me by the hand, and we walk, side by side, due north.

“My ears had heard of you but now my eyes have seen you.”
Job 42:5

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