Clothed in gold apparel
The scent of frankincense in our dress
As we walk gently up the stairs— into a large room furnished by angels
We are led into the banquet of the marriage supper of the Lamb
We are the bride of Christ
Then we realize that we are the church
Not the big buildings, not the cathedrals that tear into the skies
But we that enter the buildings, are the church— the bride of Christ.
Then there is the voice of singing
A choir of arch-angels doing different versions of the word “hallelujah”
Then there’s clapping and bowing and falling-to-the-feet of God— as He enters the banquet room for the marriage supper.
Then He speaks in the voice of thunder and a boisterous wind— holding up our fingers
A gold ring is placed— we are joined to the Lamb of God.
Jesus Christ.
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