Initially came out of a picture for a person having prayer ministry in late November 2023. But as I sat with the picture with Holy Spirit, it just kept expanding. Written up in early December 2023.
Part 1)
Sitting before me on a large dining table, I see a what appears to be a small, round display case. It is quite simple looking but yet at the same time distinguished and refined in its appearance. The base is a round piece of walnut timber about an inch thick, treated beautifully to shine in rich, smoky darkness of the beautiful grains that seem to flow and float through the timber.
Perched on the top is a smooth dome of frosted glass, almost clear but so exquisitely refined that it appears to be made up of fresh snowflakes, so light and pure in touch that the Holy Spirit seems to float through them up and over the table.
The glass seems to shift in appearance depending on the angle one looks so that unless you are looking straight down and through the elements of live frosting you can only see what appears to be fun filled growing life behind E curtain otherwise the frosting shifts in pattern and all the viewers
Part 2)
With all this treasure just in this display case, I feel compelled to look a little closer and see what is inside the glass.
I find myself taking a seat at the table in front of the case, where I’m awestruck by the craftsmanship that has gone into the making and shaping of the case, the timbers richness capturing the fullness of the life that once flow through the tree that it was formed from.
I peer into the glass, determined to see what prized possession must be contained within, to have had so much energy directed into the chamber that is purely used to hold a reminder of what was before.
Sitting on display inside the glass dome is an exquisite crimson rose, nearly at it’s peak stage of blooming but not quite fully unfurled. Each of the petals is nearly perfectly shaped, full and round and glistening with the little droplets of morning dew that must have descended upon the rose in the few weeks since it was captured from its peak of spring, just a few days earlier.
As I look more closely at the rose I can see the richness of life that was in the petals, the fibers of the capillaries that flowed the life from the stem out into the tips of each petal.
The colouring is the rose is just exquisite in its richness, a deep crimson as if it was formed from the blood of one who has paid the price for all for all time with His love and blood.
A fine layer of dew covers each of the petals, like a a dusting of sugar as each droplet appears to be frozen, as if the rose was picked in the middle of a freezing winter cold snap, with even the air inside the chamber looking smokey and heavy relative to the warm, light spring evening I currently find myself walking though and being drawn to the mists surrounding the beautiful rose, yet now finding myself drawn to the actual rose itself, it’s story and it’s promises…
Part 3)
As I look at this pristine crimson rose, plucked in the prime of its life and frozen in this ornamental viewing case, I hear a whisper faint as breath from the Lord:
The rose was so beautiful and full of life. I had planted it in deep, rich soil, allowing it to thrive and grow. But it’s beauty became the object of desire rather than the life force that created it. It became an idol, something to be craved and lusted after, an object rather than a living testimony. It was taken when it should have blossomed. Coveted when it should have been nurtured. But I have good plans for it. I have redeemed it, I have called it by name and when my glory shines through it, it will be even more beautiful than could possibly have been imagined.
When many thought it could never have lived, dreamed or thrived again, my hand, my touch will reign and restore.
Part 4)
As I look transfixed on the rose, I see a single drop of blood falling in front of my eyes from above. It seems to fall in slow motion so I am able to watch it fall and hit directly into the centre of the glass dome of the display case. As it hits the glass it shatters into a million pieces, tiny fragments of glass blowing out from the impact of the drop of blood. But I can see that the drop keeps going and lands in the middle of the crimson rose.
Something supernatural and fantastic seems to happen as when the blood touches the rose it bursts into an explosive and extremely bright light. As the light passes through the shattering glass the pieces act like a million prisms, refracting the intense white light into a million rainbows, scattering a multitude of colours in every direction.
Every surface as far as I can see is now covered with a bright rainbow of colour. The light bounces with all the prisms so that it seems there are no shadows anywhere nearby.
Momentarily distracted by all the rainbows of light, I turn my eyes back to the rose to see the light dimming slightly but not the rose has transformed and it is no longer crimson but an intense and pure bright white. It has been cleaned by the blood. Purified. Transformed. Redeemed…