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Before I know what’s going on, I am rushed into a room. They are telling me to hurry, that there’s not much time. I realize I am holding a bag, and someone takes it from me and looks inside. She stares at the contents for awhile, then looks at me and smiles with tears welling in her eyes as if to say Thank you. They push me into a chair and begin to prod at my hair, clip at my nails, and polish my face. I catch a glimpse of them taking all of their tools out of the bag I brought in. In a whirlwind, I was lipsticked, curled, and in a dress.

Then, as if a storm had passed, they all stopped and stepped back. They stared at me in awe. I heard gasps and whispers. Some were crying, others just stared. I stared back at them, wondering. The same woman that met me at the door led me to a large mirror on the other side of the room.

I looked into it and my jaw dropped. My dress was whiter than any other white I had seen. My hair perfectly curled, not a piece out of place. It was shining and lustrous. My green eyes sparkled greener than I had ever seen them. Every blemish, every abnormality was gone. How did they do this to me? I turned around to see my workers putting their tools back in my brown little bag. The woman brought it over to me.

“I believe this is yours,” she said with a sparkle in her eyes. I took the bag silently, staring at the woman. She turned and walked away, and I looked into the bag.

The bag sucked me in. Suddenly I was back in my living room, praying with my parents. Then I was in my bedroom, crying to Him, begging Him to tell me why. Then I was standing back in that room where no one would talk to me. I was staring at the phone waiting for him to call. I was sitting on my bed, heart and eyes pouring out onto the journal page. I was standing on the edge of the dance floor, watching everyone else. My heart was going to burst at reliving those memories, I knew it. And then a calm settled in my heart.

Now, I was sitting with that girl at lunch. I was apologizing to my brother. Forgiving my mom. I was sitting on my bed, surrendering to Him again. I was waiting patiently. I was worshipping Jesus through seemingly hopeless circumstances. I was choosing holiness over pleasure. I was worried about how that girl was doing more than how I was.

The vision ended and I found myself holding that bag in a now empty room. This is what they used to turn me into this?

The woman came back in, and took me to two doors. I heard music swelling behind them. They opened, and I gasped.

The room was packed. Trumpets, horns, bells, violins, crashing symbols played loudly and my heart burst. I walked down and caught a glimpse of Him. I stopped. The confusion of the bag had left. The pain in my heart from its contents had ceased. I stared at Him. Beautiful, powerful, unexplainable. Yet, He was staring at me. Tears were running down my cheeks as I realized I had stopped walking. Trembling, I tried to walk again but my legs wouldn’t move. I was paralyzed from the sight of Him.

He began to run to me.

My heart leaped. He was running, no, sprinting towards me. I stared, trembling, waiting. He reached me and wrapped His arms around me. My heart was going to burst, it couldn’t take this. I collapsed in His arms. He whispered in my ear, “Isn’t this worth it?”

“Isn’t this worth what?”

He began to laugh and led me up to the front. I was crying uncontrollably from the joy. Then I understood what He had asked. Those memories. The bag. Full of pain and discipline. I didn’t even remember why I had been crying so hard. What was it my mom had done to me? What was that boy’s name again? He was asking if this was worth those little hindrances?

I looked at Him, once again overtaken by His majesty. The answer drove itself out of my heart, it resonated in my chest, screaming its importance. My mouth finally formed the awful, almost embarrassing understatement:

YES.