by Joe Derkacht
Episode Two
Past the welcoming gaze of the thousand-eyed sentry with his fiery sword, past the sculptured pearl gate and the twelve foundations, past myriads of angels and redeemed humanity, we entered upon a river of light. As at any of New Jerusalem’s twelve gates, we saw into the measureless distance of the city’s heart and spied the One Who Cannot Be Ignored enthroned in blazing glory. Even while my heart welled up with praises, at once joining in the songs that are sung ceaselessly, we each went our own way, angels and men splitting off like sparks from a Roman candle. Before speeding toward the throne, Samuel Draper briefly clasped my hand, and in that instant I glimpsed how he had won to his lofty position as a member of the Holy Names Branch: a flash of imagery appeared in my mind of a young boy, bound by useless legs and arms, growing into manhood in a dark, cramped room in a Philadelphia slum of the 1800’s—crying out to God on behalf of those who treated him with disdain and persecution and abandonment. Plucked from earth by an early death, murder through neglect, really, he was at last elevated to a place of favor among Jesus’ brothers.
Such glimpses given by the Spirit into another’s life often overwhelmed me with glory and adoration for God. In the same instant, joy struck his face, and I knew that something of my own story had been revealed to him. As he disappeared from view, I was sure we would meet again; as a member of the Holy Names branch, he actually might be the one who would escort me to the throne in answer to Yahweh’s summons.
All around me the seamless tapestry of music, the songs of earth and heaven, continued undiminished. Sights that would have been killingly beautiful to fleshly eyes, because of their bright glories, welcomed me home: the golden streets and golden buildings; the rivers that shone like light; the trees on the banks of those same rivers, bearing fruit more dazzling than earthly gems along with equally impressive flowers; bright angels in astonishing variety; the people, men and women and children, who shone like the starry hosts—and each, overflowing with joy and music and delight. Taken singly or in sum, they filled me up and told me I was home. This place and these people had been made for me, and I for them, and all of us together had been made for His pleasure.
Passing in among the throngs, greeting individuals with smiles and waves, I picked a “Red Delicious” from a tree, and made my way to a portal that would take me to my own home in this city. As much as I desired to linger in fellowship, I had my summons to consider.
