A TREE BY THE SEA

The scarred hands hold a cloth. It is stained and frayed. It is marked from misuse. The threads are decayed. The hands that hold it are not afraid to touch the fibers. There is no repulsion or lack of desire. The touch is tender as the cloth is brought to a face. Skin is caressed with the tattered lace. Another might look with disgust at this waste. Finery to be discarded and replaced by something clean not soiled or used. Something beautiful not worn and abused.

The bride stands by she is not ready yet. Her veil is in place and so is her dress, but she is waiting for the final piece before she can enter the wedding feast. Her wrists are wreathed in delicate lines of intricate silk weaved in designs. There are flowers and angels, butterflies and trees. There are dainty birds and vines with leaves. The lace creeps up her arms in fitted sleeves and covers her shoulders but leaves an empty portion just above her breast. She looks down at her chest.

The dressmaker is standing off to the side. He looks lovingly at the beautiful bride. She is radiant with skin that glows in the light. Her lips are red and her eyes are bright. He stands now holding the lace knowing the place just above her heart. The gown is left open, it’s been torn apart. She is to be spotless, pure and pressed. She is to enter elegantly dressed. Why was he given this tattered piece. They are all waiting for them at the feast.

The master comes to check on the bride. He looks to the dressmaker questioning why is she delayed. Why is the dress incompletely made.  The dressmaker shows him the lace he was left and the place that is empty on the brides chest. The master holds the torn lace in his hands. He looks at the bride and he understands that she must be without wrinkle or stain. Yet the lace he is holding is dirty and torn. To him it is plain, it can not be worn.

What happened to the piece just above her heart? The master’s question is hard. When first made long ago the dress was completed and carefully laid away. But just today when it was placed on the bride the fabric above her breast gaped open wide. And this battered lace? The master asks. Where did you get such a piece with a past. The dressmaker shows him a box finely wrapped. No return address. Just a note with the words for the dress.

Have you placed it in the open space? The master wonders as he turns to face the bride who still stands and waits while the two discuss the fate of the dress and the question of the lace. No I have not, replies the dressmaker. It would never fit. I believe it would make her look dingy and used not pure and clean. She would not be the bride she is supposed to be. He unfolds the old lace and places it against the pure white. The hole is covered but it doesn’t look right. An unclean patch just above the brides heart. The dressmaker sighs unsure where to start. The bride looks down and notes with surprise. She has seen this lace before. It is just difficult to recognize under the grime of the time that has passed. She thinks back to when she saw it last.

A blurry eyed girl with tears left to run. A poem unfinished. A song unsung. She closes her eyes and she sees His face. The one who called her away to this place. He told her to come but she was unsure. She knew in her heart that she was impure. He told her He loved her and He would make it right. But she knew there were dark secrets that she couldn’t hide. He knew her fully yet she was afraid that He would change His mind. He would turn away. So she had torn a piece from the bodice of her dress. She had ripped it to shreds knowing that the mess would turn Him from her and reveal her true state. A fallen woman. An unworthy mate.

Time had passed from then up until now. He waited for her and she returned knowing that somehow He would see her in her real form. A woman uncovered wearing a dress that is torn. But this gift has arrived and she doesn’t know what to do now. She is not ready to take her vows.

The sound of another entering the room. The bride looks up and sees her groom. He walks towards her with a steady pace there is acceptance in his eyes and joy in his face. He stands close to her and puts His hand against the lace. I see you received my gift he whispers in her ear. Don’t turn away you have nothing to fear. I will love you even if you are ragged and torn. I will make old things new. Refresh what is worn. He steps back and she looks down at her dress. The fabric is clean the wrinkles are pressed. In place of the soiled lace there is a scarlet crest. Like blood that is fresh the lace is replaced. It is not dirty but graced with finely woven threads covering her exposed flesh. Her groom’s nail scarred hand now rests with his blood mingled with the dress. There is a seal over her heart. The seal of her King.  He has made her ready to enter the wedding.

The guests look up to see the bride coming in to stand with her groom. They jostle together to make room for others who are still coming in. There is an expectancy that fills the air. A hope that lines the hearts of all who enter there. The bride is purely dressed in shimmering white. The scarlet seal is alive it beats with a song. As the bride walks beside the throng they hear a voice that speaks, “Come all you who are thirsty and drink!”

The groom joins the tune with “Come in and drink your fill, freely I have given, freely I spilled my life out to the death, freely I gave my own breath. With my own blood I sealed the dress.”

The guests look again at the lace covering the brides chest, though it is crimson it is made white as snow. They can see that from her healed heart a stream begins to flow. It trickles down and runs beneath her feet. It seeps between the golden stones of the street to mix with a river raging past, teaming from a vast body of water clear as glass.

The guests look down at their own clothes that were once torn and worn from the road. The same waters drip past and wash their feet. All the guests are surprised to see that they too have a seal over their own hearts. It resembles the blood from the grooms scars. The ragged ends of their threadbare clothes are dipped in the water and are changing to pure white robes.

They all stand while the bride walks to meet her groom. A hush falls over the cavernous room. Time is drawing to a close. An age of love opposed by anger, guilt and fear is nearly over as the bride steps closer to her king. Earth and heaven meet in this wedding. The groom came to her but now the bride comes to him and others accept their invitation. This is the feast that unites not just a groom and his bride but all who decide to come in.

But there are those who refuse to hear. They cover their eyes and and close their ears. They believe lies and love the falsehoods they are told. Like dogs they end up left out in the cold. When they heard of the wedding they couldn’t believe, because through their longing for sin they were decieved.

It’s writtin in a book by a man left for dead. He spoke with angels and learned secrets to be read by scholars and laymen, children and kings. It is there for anyone who wishes to read. The offer stands to anyone who cares to know. There is an upcoming wedding and you are invited to go.

The Spirit and the bride say, “Come!” And let those who hear say, “Come!” Let the one who is thirsty come; and let the one who wishes take the free gift of the water of life. Revelation 22:17