Jennifer Quan Art

  • 24in x30in
  • Original piece is Acrylic on Gallery wrapped Canvas

The story

Zephaniah 3:17

[One morning as I began my time with God, I found the place in the Spirit his presence was.] With a hat on in the bright sunlight, the Father was busy working in one of the planters in a garden space. [Green space both wild and cultivated are all over the various places I’ve been in heaven and he gardens in all of them really.] I squat down beside him to ask what he’s working on. I watch quietly for a few minutes.

 “Baba, how come I don’t get to watch  you dance?” I ask.

He looks up, sweats beads glisten slightly at his temples and a smile already big, gets even wider. “Do you want to see?” I nod. Interestingly, I look more like a child today less like a woman. He puts the spade down, wipes the dirt off his hands and takes me by the hand and off we walk. I find myself just staring at his face. His smile makes the world fade away. It gets louder, I can hear singing and into a golden place we walk. I can feel myself shrink back but he keeps walking and holds my hand firmly. 

Within the space is almost this golden mist, I’ve seen it before, I think it’s atmosphere and has a color not unlike early morning spring sunlight. We stop and watch as colors flare here and there in misty magenta’s, orchids, blues, even reds and greens. all misty and swirling shimmer like glitter falling. I start seeing angels carrying pitchers of various colored liquids pouring them out. The floor rolling with mist like black ice clouds.  It was loud and deafening, not disharmonious, but still loud. We stood at a golden rail that surrounded the edge of the room when he stepped out into the central space. One barefoot pace after another, slowly. As he did the place where his foot fell lit up and it got quiet and louder all at once.  Almost as if all of Heaven stopped to watch Jesus bask in the sound of worship. Watching it was almost like he breathed it in and sung/breathed it back out, only its as if what came out as breathe was love as a beautiful song and it breathed out of him and poured out and down onto the people below. Some of the angels paused almost as if in awe while others became more wild in their movements it was loud and bright and glorious.  He began to sway slowly at first, glimpses of Jesus twirling and jumping, laughing. The Holy Spirit  swirling and clapping and laughing and playing. The Father dancing fully absorbed in the moment, all as the God in all three persons basked in the adoration of his people’s love and sang it back, his adoration, over them. It was so personal, although so corporate all at once. The colors and intensity deepened for awhile then as the Father stepped back and stood next to me breathing as the extravagant display continued. Angels pouring or throwing or sprinkling colored liquid all over. Then, as if at some unknown cue, the intensity slowed down. Baba watched me a smile on his face. I looked up and a smile automatically lit up my face too.

I was in awe, wide-eyed and could honestly only respond with “Wow.”

With that the Father laughed and hugged me. I could feel the “I love this” deeply resonate off of him. I realized that He really is a God who loves his people. 

Our worship really is a chance to give love back to him.

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