This beautiful post comes from a dear friend of mine Maggie Garred. She wanted to share this vision that she got from the Lord. I pray that we all have the courage to give God the key to our desires so that we can walk with him in freedom!
“The prison doors are always open, always calling to the weak and foolish. They swing wide when an interested soul looks in; but, my son, I don’t tell you to tempt you, I tell you to warn you.
I see you there looking in, don’t go further, don’t step in.
I see you now stepping in, you want to look around and see.
You catch a glimpse out the window, and you go further to see the view,
Oh my son, you don’t see what is happening,
The silent door is closing.
You’ve crossed the barrier, and I can’t come closer, but still I call to you.
You press further in, you press against those bars, and you reach for the view.
You desire the view that you’ll never obtain, the bars bear witness.
You think I am holding you back, holding the best from you, but those bars are not my doing, those bars: deception and denial.
Oh my son, you don’t see what is happening,
The silent door is closing.
You don’t notice because your back is to me where I stand at the threshold. I stand there, calling out to you, but you aren’t listening to me.
The lock so subtle, barely audible, oh that wretched door!
You’re listening to your own desires, listening to the selfish voice within.
Oh my son, you don’t see what has happened,
The silent door has closed.
There he is, still looking out a window with a view he’ll never reach, talking to himself, fixated on possibilities that will never come to pass.
If only he would peel his gaze away from the Eden he longs for. So much has changed; he is so far from me, so absent from my Presence, absent from the Eden he walked with in freedom.
Still I stand.
Still I wait.
I pull against the bars of that silent door, but there is no clanging. These are silent doors.
I call out his name, but he doesn’t hear. He’s listening to himself.
I take my seat at the door, waiting. I’ll wait as long as it takes.
Oh my son, you don’t see what has happened,
That silent door has closed.
One day.
One day he’ll turn around.
One day he’ll realize the view is empty if he can never cross the bars.
One day he’ll want freedom. One day he’ll want to leave the prison.
One day he’ll ask me to come, to take him to that distant Eden he sees out the window but can never embrace.
He’ll turn and see the prison cell and
The silent door that closed.
He will call to me and I will answer. He will run to the silent door and try to escape.
I will be there. He will be there.
Oh my son, give me the key!
Then he’ll realize the key to freedom is in his hand. The key he never gave me, the one he held onto, the key called sexuality.
For all the years he spends in his prison, he’ll realize that freedom was as close as surrendering his key to me.
I stand there, hand outstretched, asking for his key, promising freedom and more than a view; an adventure,
a relationship,
a life beyond the cold dark bars of this prison cell,
a place away from the silent door that closes.
He will hand me the key. That silent door will open again. Freedom will become his stride. Joy will become his balance. Hope will become his help. Love will be his banner. The Eden before him will be embraced, no longer an empty view,
no longer locked away from the silent door that closes.”