This evening while I was praying for people, declaring protection and asking for healing, there was an abrupt urgency to stop, and rest in Him. I stopped with a sigh of relief when I heard God say He wanted to take care of me. And suddenly I had an idea. I said to Him, “I want to see more of my secret garden.”
This was a place of my own He’d shown me over a year ago during a prayer and a place I hadn’t visited since. I call it my secret garden because I once heard a woman say that everyone who knows Jesus has her own secret garden in which she meets with Him.
In my vision, Jesus and I were sitting side by side on a short grassy ledge. His legs were long, but mine were short so my feet couldn’t comfortably reach the ground, and I was kicking them up in the air the way a child does when she can’t hold in a secret. And there was a stream that flowed nearby that was gentle and pure–a place where I knew animals came to rest and drink from. The day was warm and sunny. We were enjoying each others’ company, talking casually and sometimes sitting in a silence that hummed satisfaction. At one point He was looking at me and when I turned to look at Him, His eyes were so gentle and full of love and delight that my heart swelled and throbbed, and I wept. I didn’t ask where we were, but I knew it was a place that was just for me, where we could spend time together away from everything else. There was no sense of time– no pressure to be somewhere or to do something. After an eternity of sitting on that grassy ledge, we got up and walked on a path along the stream. Everything was a warm yellow. The grass was tall and golden–possibly it was wheat because it resembled straw, swaying and softly rustling a song like that of a billowing skirt of layered silk organza.
When I had asked to see more of my garden, He replied with a knowing smile, “Okay, what do you want in your garden?”
“Oh,” I said.
I thought for a second and said: “Definitely a forest of redwood trees that smell of spring moss and rich moist soil that looks like chocolate cake. And a field of tulips- the color of fire. You know, like those tulips I so admire and adore on Baker Street whenever I walk home from the grocery store. It’s always sunny and warm in our garden, because I can’t stand to be cold. The sky’s a sapphire blue that’s so clear it looks like glass, and the clouds are healthy, voluminous, a thick glowing white . I want a bubbling brook that stretches as far as the eye can see, with fish– strong and glorious, leaping out of the water and glistening in the sun like rainbows. I definitely want animals . . . ”
“What kind of animals,” He asked amused.
“Mm, sheep and cats, no, kittens that spring into the air and bat at white butterflies, and a great big lion like Aslan, that is gentle and with whom I can take naps on the grass, whose mane I can bury my face into, and whose velvet ears I can kiss. I want birds–not hawks or eagles or any predators but small ones that flit and sing and fit in the palm of my hands, like sparrows and nightingales. I want flowers of all types, except for the ones that grow monstrous in jungles.” I shook my head, absolutely sure of this. “A path for us to take walks on,” I continued, “and a small area off to the side where there’s a comfortable bench sheltered by white lattice decorated with vines and flowers, so that ribbons of sunlight filter in. This is where we can rest our legs, and You can tell me stories in the meantime.”
As I was listing off the things I wanted in my garden, I saw myself walking with Him as they appeared, seeming as if they’d always been there. I thought of how God spoke the world into being and in the end was satisfied with all that He’d done. It was this feeling of satisfaction from the act of creativity and being able to enjoy it with the One I love, that He gave me during my rest in Him. As I meet with Him more and our relationship grows deeper, my garden will expand and stretch further into eternity. There will be swan dives into waterfalls, bareback racing on wild horses, rock climbing up to the highest peak of a purple mountain and then a picnic of ramen and hot chocolate, and star gazing from the wide branches of a mustard tree while whispering secrets and dreams that dance in a hidden pocket of my heart.