Wednesday, January 11, 2006

A heavenly ghost story

I heard his music

I heard his music, as if I was hearing music for the first time.

My hands felt heart-drawn to make music, and my soul danced with the tune. It was the perfect mingling of joy and sorrow – sorrow redeemed. The soul that made that music, oh! I entered the music and found worship there…something indescribable, indefinable and pure. I closed my eyes and bowed my head...

Then I glanced behind me and there he was, seated to one side with a slight smile on his face, glowing and healthy, full color. I had never seen a ghost before. But if this was a ghost, where was the fear? I was seeing a brother in Christ.

Surprise is not the word. Perhaps the music prepared me: seeing his soul in the music I felt no shock at his form.

I addressed him first, with the first words in my mind. “How is it in heaven?” I asked. He gave a smile and some reply of its beauty. Then I asked him, “What are the relationships like there?” He had begun to fade, but when I asked this question he became animated: “Oh, if I could tell you!” he said. “Relations there are everything relation was meant to be.”

He was caught in the rapture of the relations. Perhaps they reflected the fulfillment of his earthly music? Then he paused. “But we are at war, you know,” he said, with a touch of sadness.

I felt the rebuke in those gentle words. My breath caught, and I answered, “Yes, I know.” What else could I say?

He continued: “Every day there is silence in heaven and the angels are drawn to the ramparts, looking down on earth.” “Here we know the seriousness of battle. But there is a pause before heaven’s arrows are loosed, and in that moment of stillness the anointing of heaven is poured down to individual souls, as droplets of inner gold, pure grace.”

And here he grew thoughtful, almost sad. “But sometimes that anointing is only for a few souls, two or three out of all the earth’s need.”

And then I understood: the anointing of heaven depended on the prayers of the children. Heaven wanted to give so much more, as prelude to victorious battle!

Then the full rebuke in those words fell on me. “But we are at war, you know.”

My mind went to all the times I wanted to pretend that this life was a holiday, a place to rest and receive accolades and peace. My mind went to all the times where my prayers didn’t request the grace of heaven for others caught in the battle.

The reproach entered my soul not as condemnation, but as a gentle, chiding awareness. Such is the breath of heaven…

I awoke, and in the awakening further awareness came: true music is a weapon of heaven, a prayer, a worshipful, healing balm. Children at worship are children at war, calling down grace in the music of heaven, healing for souls in battle.

And so I write this story with a moral, for those who are called.

And I pray to live the moral!

God grant that I will request heaven’s anointing for the souls on my heart before I sleep again. And that I purpose to let heaven declare my holidays, from this time on, for the glory of the kingdom and the healing of His beautiful daughters and sons…

And may that grace be poured on those I love and those He loves before this night is through!



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