Had I gone to the Royal Wedding I would’ve been among the thousands who camped on the streets hoping for even a tiny glimpse of the procession. No matter how much I wanted to don an outrageous hat, a designer dress, and sit in Westminster Abbey, I wasn’t invited.
If I were planning to attend Oprah’s last celebratory show, I’d have to pay a lot of money, and be satisfied to sit somewhere far, far from the center of the action. Even if I were an ardent, faithful fan of Oprah’s, access to her dressing room or the pleasure of sitting in that chair on her stage would be unheard of – without an invitation.
Say I really wanted to visit the president. Unless I were a foreign dignitary, a Navy Seal, the Prime Minister of England, a distinguished hero, or Michelle’s best friend, I’d have to stand outside the highly secure fence that surrounds the White House, and hope to catch a glimpse of Barak.
Every second of every day we have an invitation to converse and cry with, unload and lean on, question and seek assistance from the King of the Universe. He invites us to confidently draw near, curl up, stand tall, humbly kneel in the Almighty’s presence.
It’s in this sacred place, in His awesome presence we receive mercy, grace, help, comfort, direction, so oh so much more. It wasn’t always this way. In fact, a thick heavy veil separated the Holy One from the sinful…until Jesus cried, “It is finished.” The great veil was torn and fell in a big purple pile to the ground.
The way into His arms was cleared. Forever.