I enter your tabernacle by the main gate. It towers over reminding me whose presence I am about to enter. I pass by your alter of salvation with thanksgiving in my heart. The cross your son, my brother, was crucified on, still stands there as a memorial. This is the reason I am allowed to enter. He has paid my price.

I pause by the bronze bath to once again be cleansed in the water of life. It flows over me, constantly cleansing me of my sins. I cross the outer court and timidly enter by the door. It is narrow, but it is the only way to enter your presence.

My steps through the Holy Place are lit by the light of the world. As I pass by the table of show bread I take a piece of the bread of life to sustain me. As I eat, the fragrance coming from the altar of incense wafts over me; the aroma of Christ and the prayers of the saints. I take a deep breath as it relaxes and soothes my spirit.

At last I pass through the pieces of the veil, your flesh torn for me. The very reason I may now enter your presence. The last few steps I take at a run. I jump into your lap and feel your arms encircle me. I lay my head on your shoulder and find joy, contentment, and peace.

I whisper, “Abba, Father” as my hand caresses your face. Some may think me irreverent, but you are truly my Father. Yes, sometimes I come in and bow before you on my knees worshipful and thankful for all you are doing in my life. Sometimes I crawl in on my hand and knees in sorrow begging for forgiveness for repeated sins. Sometimes I can barely drag myself in because of the hurt and pain I am carrying. Always you receive me with open arms full of forgiveness, acceptance, and love. For you are my, “Abba, Father.”