When I Stand Before God
When I stand before God, I would begin my journey from a pier of clouds, which overlook a sea of white water that would have no end. I would have no memory of the life I’d just lived, or my death. All I would be aware of was the pier and the rowboat tied to it.
Then the rowboat whispered to me, telling me to get in so that I could go home. I got in.
When I stand before God, I would’ve traveled to him by sea. The rowboat I was in was old and rickety, built with room for only one. I stepped off the pier into the boat, where it began its route without the slightest movement from me. The oars rowed without anyone to man them, and the lantern lit without the aid of a match. The sky was made of nothing but white haze as I traveled further out to sea, the pier disappearing from sight. The water moved in waves as we passed, ripples of it running away from me without a sound coming from anywhere, not even from the oars passing through the water. I believed I’d gone deaf from silence.
When I stand before God, I would’ve left the boat at the base of a white platform to see a white staircase ahead of me. At the top of the staircase would be a throne, made of ivory, where He would be seated not in the form of a man, but as an essence that hovered around the throne. He wouldn’t wear a crown around His head, nor purple robes denoting royalty, but all would know He was king.
When I stand before God, I will not be nervous or afraid. I won’t be anxious to see His face, nor will I feel inclined to be awed. I will make my demands as I see fit, knowing what I will and will not be granted, arrogant and sure of my requests. This has been my desire through life and now death. I will be a thorn in His side and a balm for His pain.
When I stand before God, I will be colored black in his white plane, moving gracefully against the wall, being nothing but a shadow that just escapes your peripheral. My movements would be flawless and quick as I move between the seen and unseen, being dead in one’s sight to become alive in one’s dream. He would not be able to see me, but know where I am.
When I stand before God, my pants will be of the tightest leather, my shirt the finest silk, and my large boots as quiet as a graveyard. I would have silver ribbons laced through my hair, and my eyelids would sparkle gold. I would not walk but dance, constantly celebrating day and night, death and rebirth. I would be perfection.
When I stand before God, I did not want to be an angel, or a soul, or the God of Death. I wanted to be something that was undefined, free from any boundaries that having a name possessed, able to be anything He wanted me to be. I would move at the speed of thought, smell like the breath of babes, sound like the wind and be both the savior and destructor. My voice would cause thunder as my eyes would shoot lightening. I will have no limits.
After all, the Lord knew my affinity for being different.
When I stand before God, I will drop to my hands and knees to press my forehead against the floor, bowing in respect and humbleness in front of my king, my master, my friend, my father.
When I stand before God, I want to be welcomed with open arms.