The Summons
By: Maquisrebels
Summary: When you are called by The King, your only choice is to come just as you are.
Authors Note: This short story has taken me over a year to write. It was inspired by a church that I was attending in Southern California, where the motto was: "Come just as you are." Please do not copy or repoduce without the author's permission. Thank you and I hope you enjoy this story!
As I approach the front gates to the Palace, Royal Guards stand on each side. Upon seeing them in their white and clean garments, only serves as a reminder that the messenger who informed me that the King wished to see me was clearly mistaken. But he insisted that there was no mistake and that I was to come at once, as the King awaited my presence.
Quickly, I tried to wash my face, arms, and hands, but all I managed to do was to make the dirt smear all over, making me look even worse. The clothes that I am wearing are torn and dirty from working in the fields all day.
'Why couldn't the King call for me when I was clean, and my clothes new?' I thought, as a feeling of dread came over me. But there wasn't time for me to wash up and change my clothes; for when the King called for you, nothing else mattered.
Putting my hands behind my back and keeping my head down, trying to hide all the dirt and smudges, I quietly approach the guards saying, "I was told from the Royal Messenger that the King has called for me. I'm sure he was mistaken, but I was told that I was to come at once." My face turns red with embarrassment as I feel their eyes looking me over. I can almost hear their laughter as if they, too, were involved in some private joke.
"Yes. Welcome. We were told that you would be arriving here today. We are most honored to finally meet you," one of the guards reply. "Please, follow me. I will escort you to the King's Throne Room."
With my knees shaking, I follow the guard through the Royal Gardens. I have heard many stories of the beauty of this place, but the wonders I find are far beyond even my greatest imagination. With colors that my eyes have never seen before, appear all around me.
Suddenly, two large doors open wide as I'm ushered into the King's Palace. The guard turns towards me and explains, "The King's Throne Room is at the end of the hall. He is expecting you, so please, go directly inside." With this, the guard turns and walks back the way he came.
Swallowing hard, I begin to walk slowly and quietly towards the large closed double doors. As I come closer, I stop and look around, as if I'm expecting to be told not to go any further or to disturb the King. Reaching out for the door, I suddenly stop, afraid that my dirty hands will leave a mark on the clean and polished surface. Instead, I look between the door seams to see if I could simply catch a glimpse of the King; feeling that this would be enough. But the Throne Room is very crowded, and I could not see the King.
"Hello, little one. What are you waiting for? The King is waiting for you." Turning around quickly, I see the Royal Messenger who had summoned me.
With tears in my eyes, I reply, "Please, Sir, I'm not ready to see the King. Don't you see? I'm dirty. My clothes are old and worn. Please, Sir, can I come back another time? Let me have a chance to clean up and change into my best clothes. Not the dirty and torn ones that I am wearing now. I'm not worthy to even be standing here right now, let alone to go and stand before the King, not looking as I do now," I plea.
The messenger smiles and softly shakes his head at me. "You clearly do not understand. The King already knows that you are here. He does not want you 'cleaned up and your clothes new', but to simply come just as you are; dirt covered, worn clothes, and all."
"But why? I don't understand," I reply, as my tears start to fall.
Placing his hand on my shoulder, he explains, "Because that is what the King desires; to have you come just as you are. Without any false self or ideas. Just the 'real' you." Nodding my head in understanding, I turn and face the doors once more. Taking a deep breath, I slowly push open one of the doors and quietly slip inside.
The Throne Room is larger and far more grand than I could ever have imagined. The room is brilliantly and blindingly white, with pearl flooring so clear that I could see my own reflection. Along the side walls are the most beautiful and marvelous stained glass windows ever created. The ceiling above is dome shaped and so beautiful that nothing I have ever seen could compare to its brilliance.
Then my eyes fall upon the Throne itself. A red carpet flows down the stairs and across the floor to the main doors. There is only one large chair with several smaller chairs placed behind the King's Throne. It is larger than I had imagined, but then again, nothing about what I have seen here today has even come close to my beliefs of what I would have hoped to see when I finally arrived here.
Even though the Throne Room is large, it is very crowded. I'm actually relieved that there is a lot of people here, thinking that maybe I could simply blend in with the crowd so that King would not even know that I'm here. So, I try my best to remain in the back of the room, trying not to draw any attention to myself.
Clearly, everyone is very excited to be there and anxious for the King's arrival. Dressed in their very best clothes, I begin to feel very self-conscious about my appearance. Deciding that the King has not arrived yet, I try to make my way back towards the doors in an attempt to simply wait out in the hall until the King is ready to see me alone.
Just as I finally make my way back to the doors and open it slightly, the crowd suddenly becomes very quite…the King has arrived. My heart sinks because now I have no way of leaving without being noticed. So I softly close the door again and make my way back to my spot along the wall. The crowd is very still and silent, as if a pin drop would sound like a loud thunder clash and ruin this perfect moment of being in the presence of the King.
I'm unable to see through the crowd, but I know that I am in the presence of greatness and love. As if the crowd suddenly becomes one, we all fall down to our knees and bow our heads before our Supreme Ruler. But I feel that I must bow down even farther, so that I'm laying flat with my face touching the floor, too afraid to even breathe.
"Arise," comes a soft command from the Throne. Getting to my feet once again, I try without success to catch a glimpse of the King.
"As you all know, I have called you here today personally," the King begins to address us all. "But there is one whom I have summoned for a very special reason."
Feeling my heart beat harder in my chest, hoping that my name is not called. I don't feel worthy to even be in this room, let alone be called out from amongst the crowd. As I look around once more, I realize that there is no way that I could be the one that the King would call out for personally. There are so many others that are more worthy to be here, let alone be summoned for a special reason.
Then, as if time stood still, the King calls out my name. 'No. I must have heard wrong. The King called out someone else, not my name. Please, not my name!'
"Come forward," the King commands.
The crowd turns towards me as they all take several steps back to create a path. Finally, I'm able to see the King for the first time. Yes, Jesus was waiting for me to come to Him. I had always believed that I would run into His Arms if I was ever in His Presence, but I cannot even breathe and my legs don't seem to want to obey His simple command to come to Him. Somehow, on shaking legs, I begin to move and slowly walk towards Him. I no longer take notice of the others around me, as my only focus is on Jesus' Face.
Finally, I stop in front of the Throne. I am in awe to be standing in the Presence of the Almighty, the Maker of all, my Savior and Lord. Suddenly, as I become aware of exactly where I am, I realize that I'm not worthy to still be standing in such greatness and power. I fall drop to my knees and bow my head, as tears of shame pour down my face.
"Rise, My child," Jesus calls softly to me.
Slowly, I get to my feet, but my head remains down with my eyes on the floor, too afraid to look up into His Face.
"Why do you hide your face from Me?" Jesus asks me gently.
Doesn't He already know the answer? Does He not see the dirt and smudges I'm covered with? Does He not know all the things I've done? Does He not know how unworthy I really am? I don't even deserve to be a servant in the Palace, let alone a welcomed guest. I know that the moment He hears the truth about me, that I will be forced to leave and never to be welcomed back ever again.
Knowing that He is waiting for me to answer, I take a deep breath and reply, "Lord, I'm so ashamed. I'm not worthy to be here in Your Presence. I'm dirty and my clothes are worn and old. I wanted to come when I clean and my clothes new, but Your messenger told me to come just as I am. I am so very ashamed to be here with my dirty feet and leaving footprints on Your clean and polished floor."
Expecting to be proven correct and told to leave at once, I feel His Hand reach down and gently touch my face. Slowly, I open my eyes and see the nail scarred Hand softly tilting my head up. Finally my eyes come to rest on His smiling Face.
"I did call for you to come to Me just as you are. I do not see the dirt and smudges. No, all I see is My precious child, My precious one, standing before Me."
How can He not see the dirt that covers me so completely? Or does He simply not care that I feel unworthy to be standing before Him as I am? Why did He do this to me? Why did He humiliate me in front of all these people? Does He simply not care how I feel right now?
"I don't understand," I say, while tears begin to fall from my eyes once again. "Everyone here in Your Throne Room is so clean, all are wearing fancy clothes, everyone but me. Why did you call me here today? I'm not ready… Please, let me come back when I am clean and ready to be in here once again in Your Presence. Please, I am so ashamed to be here looking as I do." I hold my breath as I await His reply. But when it comes, it is not the answer I had been hoping for.
"No, you may not come back later. You will never be able to come clean on your own."
"Yes, yes, I will. I promise," I plea. "I will go home right now and wash in the clearest of water, and I will mend and put on my very best clothes. Please, let me do this and I will return later."
"No. You still do not understand. This still will not be enough," Jesus replies.
"Then, please, tell me what You require of me and I will do it," I beg.
"There is nothing that you can do. For I Am the only One that can make you clean and whole once again. Only My Healing Water can wash everything away. That is why I have summoned you here; to come just as you are. I want to wash you clean once again; to be the One to put new the clothes on you. Clothes that cannot be bought at any price, for the clothes are priceless, as they are clothes of righteousness. To wash you with Healing Water that cannot be found from any well, or river, or ocean. As it flows only from the Throne of God. These are the gifts I want to give to you freely."
"Why are You doing this for me? What have I done that You would be giving me such wonderful gifts?" Shaking my head, as if in disbelief.
Jesus gives me a smile that is so full of love, and answers me softly, "Because I love you, and I take great care in your well-being. For you are My beloved child."
"But why me? Of all Your creation, why have You chosen me? I just don't understand why You would even notice me."
"My precious one, I have watched over you from the moment you were conceived in your mother's womb. I have been with you every moment of your life. Through every heart ache and every joyful moment. I have been with you every time you turned your back on Me, and I have been with you every time you returned. I have never left you, nor forsaken you. My love for you has never lessened or wavered, in spite of all that you have done. I do, and always will, love you. For you are My Child. My Beloved."
With tears streaming down my face, I suddenly understand the meaning of God's unending and undeniable love that He has for me.
"I love You, Father," I whisper so softly, as if it was a secret that I only wanted Him to hear. With His outstretched Hands welcoming me, I fall into Jesus' embrace. The love I feel is far greater than I could ever have imagined.
Kissing the top of my head, Jesus softly says to me, "Welcome home, My precious and wonderful child."
As I tighten my hold on Jesus' robes, I wonder how I could have ever ignored…
'The Summons'