The Storehouse

Please tell me you can relate. Wounded. Hurt. Offended. Slighted. Betrayed. Any one of those experiences will put you in my camp that morning in December 2013 when my journal entry began with the cry, “Satiate me with Your L

OVE. So much so that when someone steals love from me I don’t even notice…” My heart’s desire that morning, in the words of others who have penned similar pleas: I want to love like I’ve never been hurt.

Writing is both cathartic and revelationary for me. As my heart is given voice through an inken vessel, my cry often turns into a conversation with God, dispensing the TRUTH my heart longs for, so desperately needs.

As the purging continues, TRUTH makes its entrance into my prayer and begins to lend its voice to the conversation. I invite you – who have ever been wounded, hurt, offended, slighted, betrayed – to listen with me, “Satiate me with Your LOVE. So much so that when someone steals love from me I don’t even notice, because I can just walk into Your storehouse and replenish love with ten times the amount lost…every time. Your love is an insurance policy that always replaces what is stolen, and not at the value of the stolen love, but brand new…flawless and lavish. And this replenishment of love happens no matter what kind of love was given or how it was stolen…”

In the fluidity of the cursive dancing across the page, God picks up the conversation with His revelationary Word. “Come to the storehouse. The doors have been flung open wide. Take, as much as you can carry. More than you will need. The door is never locked; I never take a holiday. Anything made (fashioned by man) has flaws, will wear out, has to be kept up, but My love never does…So, LOVE, My child. Freely, lavishly, without hesitation, without keeping some inventory or list. And come into My storehouse and take.”

Suddenly, a vision of THE STOREHOUSE of love appeared before me. The outside looked like a stable, not a dilapidated structure on a poor farmer’s land, but a solid, well-kept, structure on the property of a nobleman. From the outside, the storehouse had boundaries, a measurable perimeter. Then, the doors flung open, and I walked in. Brilliant light emanated from every direction. Inside the storehouse, the perimeter disappeared…it went on and on and on…walls of shelves lined with exquisite and unique containers, all vessels of love, all for the free taking. The only thing that seemed to have an end was a sort of clear-bluish colored floor, a foundation.

As that December morning’s cathartic, revelationary session came to a close, I knew the vision needed to get out of my head and onto paper. Despite a wonderfully artistic mom, I possess nil artistic skills. So, I turned to my artist friend, Ardith, my dear friend of twenty-fours years. We have walked through life together, and it has come full circle…from the opening of our wombs with first-born sons to empty nests. Ardith's unique, God-given artistic gift and the way she journeys through the artistic process, combined with our friendship and our mutual love for God, made her the perfect person to paint THE STOREHOUSE. For both of us, the journey would take courage and vulnerability and trust – trusting God and one another. Over lunch, I shared my journal entry and made my request. Ardith accepted the mission.

Yesterday, Ardith presented me with the painting. I stood, stunned. Gaping. Awestruck. Does it look like the vision? Yes! No. Yes! No. I mean, it captures the vision, but the vision in my head still remains locked up. But I am neither disappointed nor surprised. After all, have you ever read the glorious visions of the great prophets Isaiah, Ezekiel, and Daniel? The recounting of their visions are littered with stuttering likes and as, similes and metaphors, because there are simply no earthly words or images to appropriately and accurately capture heavenly words and visions. Like Ardith says, “It’s like God uses His own pallet of paints.”

So, there hangs my I-have-no-good-enough-words-to-describe painting above my mantle. It is like my vision. A constant reminder of THE STOREHOUSE OF LOVE…the doors open wide for me. For you. Come. Take. More than you need. And then freely give it away.

Addendum: It must be written so that all who see THE STOREHOUSE and read its story will bear witness. THANK YOU, dear friend, for the painting, but even more importantly, for the years of friendship and for taking this journey with me and for using your God-given talents to bring glory and honor to His name and not your own. I love you and am deeply grateful for you. Now, please share your own journey with THE STOREHOUSE.