Not Of This World

He stood on the porch staring into the night. Emotionless, drained, deplete of all things in human form, he in the quietness of his soul, asked, “God...where are you?” The silentness within was peaceful, void of all feeling. He stepped off the porch onto the first step of the stoop. Looking down, watching his next step in the silvery moonlight, he carefully placed his feet to stand solidly on the walk. Even this simple step took all of his focus and effort.

As he looked up from the ground, the hazy, white curvature of a ring of light came into his visual awareness, once hidden by the overhang of the roof. He continued to tilt his head back, stiff and sore from the heaviness that weighed on his mind. To complete his view heavenward to see the fullness of the ring, he craned his head until the spotlight of the moon fully illuminated his face. The halo, hovering in the heavens, encircled him completely, the moon centered, a brilliant light, an eye gazing upon him, like that of a helicopter spotlight that has found the one lost at sea, surviving the waves of the storm that capsized his boat.

“You are my angel,” the voice in his heart responded to him. Numb from the force of the waves that had pounded him for days, his senses dulled by the crushing weight of the water that had crashed upon him, he began to sob. He had not drowned, nor had he been deserted. Though the waters had towered around him, great and black walls that swelled then collapsed, submerging him in the gallows of the sea, he arose from the depths, a mighty hand lifting him from peril.

The storm was over. The waters, now quiet, as still as his heart that beat within, reflected the light of the heavens, their surface silver, he like a jewel, seen from above. His eyes traced the feathery ring stretching for miles around its bright center, on the wings of angels his rescue came. He smiled at his Heavenly Father, unseen, yet present all around him.

A shudder waved through his body as he stood on the walk, mesmerized by what he had seen. He turned and walked up the steps to the house that awaited him. “This is your home,” the voice of the heart spoke as he opened the door. The coolness of the air inside reminded him of efforts to conserve all resources, his financial life bankrupt, his career as he had known it all his life, in a shambles.

“Keep warm in your home,” the fatherly voice offered. Removing his coat, he shivered. “Place my robe on your shoulders.” The robe, full-length and white, a coat of honor given by his Father to His faithful and loving son. “You are not of this world.” Hearing this he knew he belonged to his Father, real to Him.

“Take the grains of the field, milk, and honey, and eat, your fast complete.” He went to the cupboard finding a cup of mixed grains, hearing, “This is all you need.”

The honey flowed from the spout. “Take all you want,” the voice responded. He then covered the grains with the golden, blossom honey. He watched the white milk pour, covering the base of the mound, leaving its peak crested with glistening, liquid gold running down its sides.

“Eat at my table,” his Father offered to him. He sat at the head, that reserved for a Prince, and closed his eyes to prayer, yet instead, he heard the still small voice in his heart whisper, “Thank you for loving me.”

While his eyes were closed, he saw himself crest the mountaintop and for the first time to see the other side. He had only known the arid and barren land from which he had climbed. For all of his needs were provided, daily provisions, the water of life, protection from the roaming beasts of the wilderness, yet there was something lacking of which he was in pursuit.

Throughout his journey to the mountain, he crossed paths, came alongside, and invested in the lives of others. It may have been a simple prayer for a stranger limping along his way. It may have been the money he slipped in the coat pocket of the single mom of three. It may have been the suffering with whom he stood, strong in faith for their healing. It may have been the family to whom he gave so freely that he lost along the way. Regardless, the fruits of his labor did not blossom in this land.

What he saw on the other side made his mouth gape in awe, for spread as far as his eyes could see was a land lush with growth, blossoms and fruits, fields of grain, meadows with sheep and cattle, streams crisply flowing into lakes abundant with life. In the sprawling valley, perched atop a hill to provide a panoramic view of this beauty stood a grand, white house. In the rolling meadow children played, scampering to and fro. His eyes scanned searching for what was missing.

The movement along the meadow’s brook caught his gaze, and there, strolling barefoot along the water’s edge, dressed in white, fluttering in the breeze was the love missing in his life. “All this is yours, as far as your eyes can behold,” the voice of the Father said in his heart. “Your prayers for others, of all you so freely gave, have been laid as treasure on the other side.

A single tear rolled down his cheek as the dam in his heart broke free. He heard a tremendous rumble as the ground shook around him, the neighboring mountain falling down. Water flowed freely to the barren land from which he traveled, its fingers moving across the plain, soaking the dormant soil, healing the paths of sorrow that wound through his wandering days.

Plants sprang forth covering the barren brown. A cloud of birds crested over the mountain descending upon the growth, their song of life chirping as the green foliage became full grown. The sound of music filled the air, a symphony of triumph and victory, as love swept over the land. “All of this is yours, too, the land in which you trod, the deposits of your life made fertile with the love you kept hidden on the other side.”

The milk and honey softened the grains as he tasted that which he had forgone. The milk, sweetened by the succulent honey, and the grains swelling with life filled the void that the fast had made. “What does this all mean?” He thought as he contemplated all that he had seen.

Laying atop the table was the message, sitting there unnoticed until then not revealed. He opened the book to find understanding and this he found as he read:

Open your heart to everyone, don’t you hold back.

Share the glory of the Son, the shining light of your heart.

What you cannot see is only hidden, a treasure deposited away.

Have faith that what you’re doing, is known as Jesus’ Way.


I am with you always, in the depths of sorrow, to the heights of glory I soar.

My wings will protect you, on these we ride afar.

For I am the mighty tower with whom you stand so strong,

To prevail the tempest winds, swelling seas of the dark force.


Your life was swept from you, the sea it raged so long,

Yet as the waters receded, standing on solid rock I saw,

A man with boldness and courage, a faith driven deep by trials,

Scarred and torn and weary, yet in his faith standing strong.


Originally published February 16, 2011
Copyright © 2011 Jeff Cambridge