Then He turned and looked at me. His face floated like a fire-licked log. In a circling motion His arm indicated I should go to Him and He actually said, “Come to Me,” with a fatherly voice, yet a fatherly voice I had never heard before, not even in the movies. His voice rang with confidence, a voice that said not only did He belong there, but so did I.
The angels dropped my arms and I looked down to see if I could walk on solid ground to those golden steps and discovered that I had the body and the clothing of a three year old child. Later I mused about this and thought it had been appropriate as spiritually speaking, I wasn’t any older than that, even though in my humanity I was 40. Ascertaining my footing I then looked up and saw that the steps had enlarged to the size a three year old child would see them, almost insurmountable. But I scrambled up them like any toddler would do, with my hands supporting me as my chubby little legs maneuvered the upward climb. On the dais God picked me up and sat me on His right knee.
His was the most cushy of bodies and I just leaned right into it. With His right arm around me, holding me close, He pointed down. I looked where He indicated and I could see the earth as if I were looking at a photo shot taken from a space ship. Then I pointed at my problems on the earth because I could plainly see them as well, but they didn’t hurt when I looked at them from God’s lap. He asked me to look into His eyes and tell me all about myself. I figured He knew all about me, so it must be me who needed to learn more about myself by talking about things.
He listened to every word. When I cried, He cried. When I laughed, He laughed. When I finished He told me how to solve my little problems. Then, having no further conversation pressing, He set me on my feet and said, “Today you have visited the throne room of God. You come back anytime you want. This is where you will find me and I am always available to talk to you.” Suddenly, I was back in my bedroom on Green Street in San Francisco.
At first I made my trips to the throne room exactly the way He taught me. I’d swim in heavy air, push the manhole cover aside, pull myself up, but the very first time I tried this on my own, the angels did not come. Instead, the manhole opened right into the throne room. Then I lost sight of the manhole and became aware of a veil between the two worlds, the veil that ripped in two at the death of Jesus. On one side laid the world and on the other the Holy of Holies. After a while I realized that when I decided to go to the throne room I didn’t need to swim in heavy water, I simply went. I desired to go there and I was there.
My “Daddy,” my Father God, is always available. He never asks me to wait a minute while he finishes up with someone else. There is never someone in front of me. He really is omnipresent, meaning He can be with each one of us, exclusively, at the same time.
I was probably about five years old, spiritually, when I decided to explore heaven. . . .