I knew I couldn’t get to the Beautiful Gate on my own.
The Highway of Holiness stretched out ahead. This road would lead me there, but when I approached, a toll booth barred the way. Bold words on the sign above drained all hope from my heart. The astronomical price of admission held me back. I stood frozen at the entrance, wondering what to do.
I desperately wanted to travel this path to the Beautiful Gate. But how? Not even Elon Musk, Bill Gates and Jeff Bezos combined had the fortune to pay the fee.
“Please, tell me,” I asked the one guarding the entrance, “how can this be paid? I want to walk this road, but I cannot afford the cost.” People walked on the path, all wearing white clothing. “I see others ahead. How were they able to pay?”
“They didn’t pay,” he said. His voice echoed through my confusion.
“Then how? Did they sneak under the bars when you were asleep?”
He bristled. “Impossible.”
“I must reach the Beautiful Gate to enter the great city of Zion. This is the only way there. I tried other paths, but they led me in circles. Please, can you help me?”
His countenance darkened. “No. I cannot.” His features softened as he continued. “But I know the one who can. Look over there.” He pointed. “Ask the One.”
A radiant being smiled in my direction. He seemed to be waiting for me. The scent of sweet spices drifted on the breeze.
I trembled toward him, fearful he would turn me away, but determined to find an answer. “Hello. I’m—”
“I know who you are, my child.” His voice reminded me of a river cascading over rocks in spring, commanding attention, yet as soothing to me as a trickling fountain.
“Oh. Um ... he ...” I gestured to the one who had directed me, but before I could explain why I had come, my hand was covered in light. Warmth shimmered into my muscles and spread into my joints and marrow. My knees bent with a will of their own, easing me to the dirt, and an ancient song erupted from my throat, “I will enter your gates with thanksgiving and your courts with praise.”
I lifted my head to this personification of love, but instead of his face, I saw a cross. Tears formed. I blinked and searched for his eyes. They shone through the cross and the splendor that enveloped him — kind, loving eyes.
He reached through the cross, took my hand, and raised me from the ground. “What do you seek?”
“Don’t you know?” I blurted. “It’s as if you can see me, my past, my future ... everything.”
“Yes. I know.” He released my hand. “Still … will you ask me? That is an act of worship, even greater than the song you sang to me.”
“Please. I must reach the Beautiful Gate.” My heart beat faster. Would he grant my request?
“The Highway of Holiness will lead me there, but the price is too high.”
“I already paid the price for you. I am the Way, the Truth and the Life.”
I fell to my knees. “Why would you do that for me? I’m nobody.”
“You are precious to me, and I love you.” He held out a small red vial. “My blood, for you.”
As I reached out to accept the gift, blood washed over me and instantly transformed my stained clothing to pure white.
Jesus held out his scarred hand, and I took hold of it. We passed under the raised barrier arm onto the Highway of Holiness together.
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