Ch.2 - Underneath

How could I have missed it? I was always so close to the entrance but yet so very far. The very door I needed I somehow failed to see or maybe I subconsciously avoided it.

I don't know sometimes why I do the things I do or why I don't the things I don't. The things I want to do, maybe I shouldn't. And the things I need to do, I often won't. Call it human tendencies, maybe. Whatever the case, Jesus led me there, right there, in the midst of that familiar closet space.

And imagine how I felt when I realized what I had missed. I mean, right under the very same carpet I traversed time after time, right in that same closet of mine, the one that now lay empty; that's where it was. All along, it was there, directly under His chair.

I came to consider that maybe he led me there quite purposefully, last year, to position there His very throne, His chair. I thought mostly about the fact that as I made a place for Him to sit, to reside in that familiar closet, that Jesus Himself was positioned as guard, a watchman, my One and Only protected the room.

And this closet space? It is so much different now than it was those several months ago, let ago way back before even then. It's a room in the recesses of my heart that once held so many things; secrets, 30 years of junk I let stack up; so much I worked so desperately always trying to hide.

But just last year, at Jesus bidding, I emptied the place. Swept it clean; this room in my heart, my house, for Him it became His dwelling place. My house, His home, or so I purposed, and I thought.

It's in this moment though that I'm reminded of a very important thing I've learned in life and through the years of ministry; that is, when captives are set free, the room where the piles stood has been made clean, renewed, we have to make sure God, by His Spirit, comes and fills the room. Don't just leave it empty, unoccupied. We must keep our eyes open, our attention focused. God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Spirit must take residence. And not just residence, they must become the rightful owners.

Thing is, I kept my broom handy. I kept the place swept clean, but I seemed to keep battling the same things that would find their way in to kill, steal and destroy me. Daily, the battle would rage.

And did I talk about it? No, never. Why is it that I could air all the things that once sat on the shelves of this place in my heart, but yet battle quietly the thing I need uprooted and gone so desperately?

And so as is our experience in the natural, when we leave a room uninhabited; yep, those dust bunnies gather. They accrue and accrue without any investing in an empty space. And with the battles we fight, we fight even harder to constantly seem to give them a chase.

Those rascally rabbits.

Sorry. Not sorry? I couldn't help myself. Changing the subject of the things I still battle to write about, chasing puff balls of dirt. Who does that?

So I'm sure you can understand just why I was surprised when God nudged me, smiled, and even chided me that day in the way in which He did. He knew something, like He always does. He knows everything. And this day I conceded there was something He knew for which I was absolutely clueless.

And after the nudge, His simple grin, and the chide, He motioned me to come closer inside. And so I did. I stepped over that familiar door threshold right into that room.

One step, two step, three step, four. Four steps only from the hallway through the door. I glanced then from side to side, down low, and so up high, as high. I stood on my tip toes to see whatever I could see. Yet I didn't see anything, or so I believed, that needed my immediate attention, despite the battle that never ceased.

All still appeared so very clean. It's amazing how good one gets at concealing the battle. Not even a swipe of a white glove upon the shelf would reveal what I knew about myself. And maybe that's just it. I had learned to conceal things all too well. The deeper things that had come to dwell, it wasn't in that place, that closet I would allow them to dwell.

Allow them to dwell. Now there's a phrase to ponder a bit. Why do we allow things to dwell that we battle? Why don't we kick them on out, uproot their existence as soon as they start?

Questions. Questions that start with the what and the why, they get me every time.

It was then in that pondering the what and the why, remembering my battles, my adeptness at concealing that I felt something start to shift. I noticed out of the corner of my eye, in my peripheral vision, Jesus' posture shifted a bit.

He moved. And instead of standing, he knelt in front of me. He knelt in the center of that familiar closet floor.

My peripheral view couldn't quite take it all in, just what was He doing in the middle of the room? I turned then to bring everything I could into view.

Why in the world is my God kneeling here in front of me? Is He going to reenact a Scripture; draw something there in the floor; maybe write my sins like He once did in the sand?

This floor isn't sand, I thought, breathing a sigh of relief. Yet, I could feel my eye sockets widening, waiting for Him to speak.

And I waited. I waited some more. Quietly was testing me to see if I really learned before. And if I were to be honest, I stood there, quietly, too. It was patiently I couldn't seem to grasp. Quietly comes easier as it so often occurs from the outside in.

Patiently? Well, patience challenges, as it begins, and it travels from the inside out. I venture I lose patience much like I lose my keys, constantly. I wonder if there's a way to attach to patience a tracking device.

If you know me, you know I do nothing, and I mean absolutely nothing slow. That includes waiting.

It was then, in my not really waiting, that Jesus glanced my way. He stopped for a moment there, and He shifted His eyes, looking upward.

I followed His gaze. It seemed he was looking into the ceiling in the center of the room. There's no way though that center ceiling was where He would fix his gaze. His attention, it was most definitely elsewhere.

Elsewhere, above, beyond, up, beyond up, and beyond up some more; way past the sky. I was sure His eyes made their way to see out into the universe past the stars, the infinite galaxies.

And in the midst of his gaze, it was as if I could see deep into His heart. His heart was then suddenly raptured to that same outer space. Quietly then took to the sidelines as Jesus then began to speak.

I couldn't hear what He was saying, my ears were not trained nor tuned to this frequency, but somehow, I knew it was for me in that moment He was praying.

He was pleading my case. My Counsel presented my case that day before God. He stood in my place in the highest of courts; a courtroom that no early man or woman could physically stand.

It was from that point, following that prayer, that He and I locked eyes once more. He smiled again His simple grin, and I settled myself in right beside Him, on that familiar closet floor.

And just as I settled in, it happened all over again. The room in time and space shifted as His nod directed my attention to the middle of the floor.

And with quietly still sidelined, His voice rose a little more.

He said, "It's time we got down to business."

Business?

I hung on that last word. Business became a one-word question. Just what did he mean when he said it?

And just as He spoke the last word, "business", He kept my mind from wondering just what He meant, pulling back the carpet He revealed a hidden trap door.

In the floor of that familiar closet, lay a single entrance in and out. Crazy that it always lay right there beneath me, where I so often mindlessly moved about. I missed it under that carpet time and time again throughout the years. It was easy to miss, obviously, as like a chameleon it took on the pattern of the floor, blending right into the carpeting of my heart's closet floor.

It was then in that instant that I felt something change in my standing, my feet seemed to reposition themselves into a parking spot marked defensiveness. My heals did a little twist as my toes dug in the floor a bit, all the while words seemed to travel then in reverse. Toes to mouth instead of brain first.

It's never a good thing when ones toes rise up to speak.

I then blurted out questions, as if to Jesus I now had to plead my case.

Did I somehow in mere seconds forget that He is my Counsel? Just because I can speak, doesn't mean I should, especially when it comes to the highest courts.

And not only is He my Counsel, He's my closest friend. Why is it I would even consider He was there to levy blame or condemnation.

Where do we ever come up with this crazy idea that Jesus wants to beat us over the head with our things? And why is it that we think we can fix anything. I mean, yes, we should speak words of life and declare His truths, but beyond that, Jesus' way is higher and oh, so much better.

If I could just learn to not only be quiet, but patient also. If those two could come to my place to dwell? Oh, what a difference for me they would bring.

Nonetheless, I heard the words that I spoke, the ones that came rushing up from my feet. The words were quite loud. They were nearly deafening.

I heard myself say, "How could I know it was there?"

Defensive posture stance. Heals twist, toes digging in again and again.

"You know how much stuff I piled on top of there, for years and years?

Honestly…"

(Now there's an indication of what I wasn't being…I wasn't being honest.)

Yet, I continued to say, "…I had my suspicions that there was something under the carpet there. I mean, honestly…"

(Yep, I said it again, but this time honestly was quite honestly true.)

"…there were many times I battled with things that seemed to come up and out of somewhere. They didn't come from without, they were already there in the room."

As I stood trying to figure it out, just how I missed that door for so long, I saw His same smile, the sweetest of grins. His eyes calmed my defensive spirit, and I settled back in. I released my toes from the holes that they dug. I then knelt and I listened by Jesus there on that rug.

In the peace and the silence, He reached for the floor. He moved His hand about and there within the carpet, there was revealed a hidden latch. On that latch there was a lock that I could now clearly see. And then holding now that lock, Jesus held it all the while looking at me.

With the lock in one hand, He reached for the chain that hung round His neck. On that chain hung a key, a perfect fit to the lock in that all but forgotten trap door.

I wondered for a moment just how long He had worn that chain for me.

I watched Him closely as in one fluid motion He lifted the chain from His neck as He then held it suspended mid-air for me to retrieve from His grasp.

It was then He once more quite deliberately spoke.

"Lisa, here's the latch and the lock. You now hold the key. It's up to you to unlock the lock and open the door. That's if you're ready to completely release what's under the floor."

And just as I began to reach for that lock and engage my release, rather suddenly He interrupted and with loving words of caution he stopped me.

He said, "The choice is yours, as it's always been, to unlock this place and enter in. It's up to you if you want to do the work that this opening will bring. It will be worth it all, in the end, but for a little while there will be some battles you still have to fight."

I swallowed big just then as He continued.

"I promise to be by your side just as I've always been as you've unwavered through all of life's things."

Breathing in deep.

He continued once more, "Rest assured that if it's my direction You really want to go...

(Pause)

"…if You truly want to go where I am taking you, it's time we embrace what's in this place underneath."

(Pause)

"The people I have brought to you, I will continue, no matter if you decide to enter this space. They desperately need your story, for how you testify of me, that is the Spirit of Prophecy."

"What I've done for you, for them I'll do it, too. But here and now, we pause. We must sure up what lies beneath you."

And so my response was quite evident and determined; the normal Lisa style. I had already made my decision long before Jesus brought me here to always follow wherever He leads and to tidy whatever He says clean.

As so as we already know, patience, she still evades me. Without hesitation, I reached for the lock, stuck in the key as if a sword in the very heart of what has haunted me. I gave it a twist, and we both heard it "click".

The door, it's ready for opening.

I stood up, quite still for just a moment before pacing the floor, with words again I continued.

"This trap door, Jesus, I know why we need to address what lies there below. Therein lie the foundational things, the root cellar, if you will."

(Yes, I said root and not fruit.)

"I suspect there's so many things we'll find down there so entangled and intertwined. My roots? They're down there, Jesus. And if I'm going to be honest, I do have some fears."

I'm afraid that if we open that door and descend into that space, we'll disrupt all my roots; all the things I've worked so hard through the years to put into place."

And without nary a hesitation, He responded.

"We must go there, Lisa, into that deep and darkest space. For from the depths of my own heart, I know the gifts We have waiting for you. They're earmarked, your name in bold bright letters identify you're already their owner. They've been wrapped in protective paper that I've crafted just for you.

There's so much more that I have for you than this. It is more than high time to dive right into the deep. Like with everything else you set your mind, your heart to do, go ahead. Leap."

(Breathe in, breathe out.)

I was about to speak when He said, "Now let me continue."

"You've already taken a leap, haven't you? All you knew in the natural world, your friendships, family, you lept from Texas to Tennessee in your desire to simply obey me. So as you just literally uprooted yourself in the natural, it's time you uproot some things in the spirit as well. I don't want to just sit forever on a throne or a chair in the middle of your closet floor for eternity. I want to be your very sure foundation, the rock on which you stand, your Chief Cornerstone.

(Breathe in, breathe out, again.

"Again, let me continue."

"So let go of that fear, come near, grasp hold my hand. Let's open this door wide. And just as you have always done, keep your eyes forever fixed upon me. I'll place your feet, just as I always have, where each step is met with safety."

"Don't worry. I promise they won't slip."

(Breathe in, breathe out, again.)

"Ready now? Let's go. One, two, three, four…"

And so right there, with Jesus at my side, I offered up a prayer, no longer will I hide. As I spoke loudly…well, let's be real, I shouted more than loudly. In fact, I'm sure you heard the words from right -- well, from wherever it is you sit. Nothing; not time nor distance could prevent those sound bytes from taking flight from my lips.

"Fear, go. Holy Spirit, come. Burn like a fire. Blow like the wind. Fear, go. Holy Spirit, breathe on me again."

(Pause.)

"Okay, Jesus, here we go. Let's just tear up this carpet! I've unlocked the lock. Help me. We've got to pry this trap door wide open.

(Pause.)

"Oh, before I forget, let's grab a shovel, a pick, some pruning shears. I bet we'll need all of those tools, and quite so many more."

(Pause.)

"Oh, and one more thing. Can we remove the hinges before we go any further? Take those things right off this door? I need just an extra bit of assuredness.

Yes, I know you're here, that you'll take care of me…I just need the whole door to be gone. I want to be sure it stays wide open, so that truly everything can and will be released.

And when the time comes, when all has been addressed, nothing more down there intertwined, we'll seal it up together, then, just you and me. It's for You that I do this.

This is the very reason You died, why you came for me. And not only for me spiritually, for my whole health, mentally, even physically. And then for those around me, too.

You came for my plus one, for my family, and for all the others you keep bringing me.

It's time You and I descend to the underneath."

(Pause.)

"And so here we go, let's do this thing! Hurrah! Where'd that phrase come from? I'm not a Marine. Ha, ha. You know we have got to laugh at this thing."

(Pause. Laugh some more.)

"Now, pull back the carpet. Open up that thing. It's so very heavy, it seems. Who created these things? Why is it called a trap door?"

Creeeak. Snap, pop, the hinges go.

Peering down, He and I, we look below.

"Wow, it sure is dark down there, Jesus. I can't see much of anything from here."

(Peering some more.)

A ladder instead of stairs? I should have guessed it. I think it was I who put that thing there.

Hello, to all that lies here below, this place I now call, "underneath."