Cheesy eighties song references are a good way to introduce a supernatural experience of the cross, right? That doesn’t cheapen it at all, right?
My wife and I went to the organic church conference in Orlando, led by Frank Viola, Alan Hirsch, Gary Welter and Milt Roderiguez. For the first time in my life, the cross made sense. Christ made his Way through death. That doesn’t mean we don’t have to die. On the contrary, it means we must die, we must be crucified along with our Lord.
So on the drive back my wife fell asleep, and I was meditating on a brief vision I’d had of Christ’s cross. I was on a golden road, and ahead of me was a golden gate set in a white stone wall. On the road, through the gate, on a short hill was the cross.
I was also considering the vastness of the sky, and how it surrounded us on all sides. It struck me as a fine reminder of its Creator. While I was thinking about this, the vision of the cross re-appeared in my mind. This time, just as I considered how the sky encompassed me, I considered my surroundings in the vision.
Behind me now was Christ, urging me forward. He walked me to his cross, which became an altar like the one Abraham almost sacrificed Isaac on. He laid me down, and before I really knew what to expect he drove a knife into my heart.
In my own body – while driving no less – I felt my spirit recede from my extremities, up through my ribs, past my heart, until it left my head and closed around the back of my eyes. My physical body continued, and I had control of it, but at a distance. My body was quite empty.
I thanked God for such a blessed experience, glad and scared all at once. But I knew I was safe. Slowly, like water seeping through a sponge, my spirit returned. Except now it wore my body like clothing, rather than being truly attached. I felt that way throughout the night. The sensation faded after sleep, but the memory remained.
Being separated from my body – my flesh, mind you – was overwhelmingly refreshing. For that brief time, my spirit was cleansed through death. After my spirit had returned, I saw the vision again, except now the cross was behind me and Jesus was ahead of me. We continued on the road together.
I was going to write something completely different, some nagging detail about the veracity of organic and institutional church, but realized how ultimately petty it was. Christ has shown himself to me that I might always remember him and be faithful. What more should I worry about?