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Narda Goodson Ministries

On my journey toward purpose . . .

Chapter 21

"Mirror, Mirror On The Wall"

It took approximately two weeks before I could enter the room with mirrors.  But I knew that if I were to carry on with my life, I would eventually need to confront what awaited me on the other side of the door.  I made many attempts but I was overcome by fear each time.  I needed the strength of the Most High to re-enter this room. 

Finally, with much trepidation and a fear stricken heart, I made my way toward the door, reached for the doorknob and at a snail's pace turned it.  To my surprise beautiful lights immediately penetrated through.  You could see the imperial rays that peered all the way through the corridor.  I was awestruck by its beauty and each glare spellbound me.


As I stepped into the room, I could hear the echoes of their songs.  I felt like a little girl that had been mesmerized by magic in a Disney movie.  The mirrors possessed a riveting ambiance.  Why was I so drawn to these mirrors?  What hold did it have on me?

When I reached a few feet away from the mirrors, I observed that they were creatively and uniquely well thought-out.  Each had the most intricate details and I wondered who the creator of these original and priceless masterpieces could be.  I was filled with much wonder as I looked intently at the spectacular production.

All the mirrors were individually stunning and collectively they reflected a beauty that exuded a spectrum of perfection.  It was a remarkable sight.  But I noticed that each mirror depended on another mirror’s element in order to project its glory.  But the mirrors made me happy; they brought a sense of joy into my life.  Oh, how I loved looking at the mirrors.

Compelled to take a closer look, I found that now its beauty no longer intrigued me.  I hesitated because now instead of fascination, I felt uncomfortable and edgy.  The mirrors now worried me and I did not know why.  What would I see?  What was I afraid of?  I paused in fear but its entrancing magnetism wheedled me forward.  With angst-ridden steps and a throbbing heart, I paced closer and closer.  What would I find when I got close enough to see?
 

I reach toward the magnificent and dazzling displayed and anxiously removed one from its place. As I carefully held as my hands it's numerous blemishes and defects were instantly revealed. I then examine other pieces only to find that many contained severe damages. They have been masked in the opulent simulations of beauty that they collectively projected and had gone undetected.

 

Propelled to take a long and deep stare into the mirror that I now held in my hands, I saw horrifying visions of the things I had tried so desperately to forget. The deformity of my composure was equivocal to that of the hunchback of Notre Dame and I appeared mutilated and defaced. I had been disfigured and scarred; it did not even look like me. But the Holy Spirit whispered, "This is what you look like on the inside". I shook in fear because the mirrors had depicted and accurate condition of my spiritual health.

 

Surely, that could not be me. I represented strength, beauty, and confidence. But when I looked into the mirror, when I saw was a broken, feeble and wounded girl whose identity have been swathed in bandages. No longer able to withstand the heartache I felt, I hung the mirror back on the wall and walked out of the room in tears. I told myself that I would never return to this room. I shut the door and left with my heart full of sorrow.