He reaches the altar and those of us who follow part to each side in front of the crowds of saints. He lifts the lamb, cradling it in his arms, then rests His head on His head, and breathes.
The bloody spots on the white wool disappear, and the lamb begins to move, shifting his legs, and eventually lifting His head. He gazes into the eyes of Jesus, peacefully. Then Jesus sets Him down, and He runs to His mother, capering and leaping on the way.
As He watches, Jesus slowly lifts His arms, raising them to the even higher heavens, and glory fills the place, surrounding and centering on Him. He is once again transfigured, and a bright circle of glowing light appears where the crow of thorns had lain. As I watch, it begins to move slowly upward, shifting into position above His head; no longer a crown of pain, but one of glory and honor and power.
And then He casts His eyes upon us.
He finds my eyes out of all the crowd. He comes toward me, arms stretching to take my hands. And then He is before me, gazing at me, face to face, His eyes so full of love that I think my heart will break from the joy of it.
He leans toward me and presses His lips against mine, filling me with His breath.
He lifts His hands to my head, which has begun to burn with a circle of fierce and terrible heat. As His hands move higher, the circle lifts and the pain is suddenly gone. I am so filled with love and awe and life and wonder that I can do nothing but stand quivering before Him.
He moves on to the next person who had walked behind Him, and I watched quivering, steeped in joy.
On and on He went, crowning each one to join the band of the Holy ones, the crowd of which we had passed through.
And I realized that in His crowing, His coronation, He crowns us. Moment by moment everlasting throughout and without time.
I still stand in that place of glory now...
(I wonder if there is a merging of time and timelessness at the moment of death, the coronation moment, when eternity somehow halts to let you in?)