We should remember that John wrote these words while on the island of Patmos. He was there “because of the word of God and the testimony of Jesus” (Revelation 1:9). He had been banished to this island, which was an isolated, rocky, and inhospitable prison. Yet it was here, under difficult circumstances—separated from all his loved ones in Ephesus, excluded from worshiping with the church, and condemned to only the companionship of unpleasant fellow captives—that he was granted this vision as a special privilege. It was as a prisoner that he saw “a door standing open in heaven.”

We should also remember Jacob, who laid down in the desert to sleep after leaving his father’s house. “He had a dream in which he saw a stairway resting on the earth, with its top reaching to heaven, and . . . above it stood the LORD” (Genesis 28:12–13).

The doors of heaven have been opened not only for these two men but also for many others. And in the world’s estimation, it seems as if their circumstances were utterly unlikely to receive such revelations. Yet how often we have seen “a door standing open in heaven” for those who are prisoners and captives, for those who suffer from a chronic illness and are bound with iron chains of pain to a bed of sickness, for those who wander the earth in lonely isolation, and for those who are kept from the Lord’s house by the demands of home and family.

But there are conditions to seeing the open door. We must know what it is to be “in the Spirit” (Revelation 1:10). We must be “pure in heart” (Matthew 5:8) and obedient in faith. We must be willing to “consider everything a loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus” (Philippians 3:8). Then once God is everything to us, so that “in him we live and move and have our being” (Acts 17:28), the door to heaven will stand open before us as well.

God has His mountains bleak and bare, Where He does bid us rest awhile; Cliffs where we breathe a purer air, Lone peaks that catch the day’s first smile.

God has His deserts broad and brown— A solitude—a sea of sand, Where He does let heaven’s curtain down, Unveiled by His Almighty hand.

What a contrast there is between a barren desert and the luxuriant oasis with its waving palms and its glorious verdure! Between gaunt and hungry flocks and the herds that lie down in green pastures and beside the still waters; between the viewless plain and the mountain height with its “land of far distances.”

What a difference there is between the aridity of an artificial, irrigated, stinted existence—a desert existence—and a life of abundant rains, crowding vegetation, and harvests that come almost of themselves— the abundant life!

The former is like the shallow stream where your boat every moment touches bottom or strikes some hidden rock; the latter is where your deep keel never touches ground, and you ride the ocean’ s wildest swells!

There are some Christians who always seem to be kept on scant measure. Their spiritual garment s are threadbare, their whole bearing that of people who are poverty-stricken and kept on short allowance—h ard up, and on the ragged edge of want and bankruptcy . They come through “by the skin of their teeth” and are “saved so as by fire.”

There are other souls who “have life . . . to the full.” Their love “alw ays protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres” and “never fails” (1 Corin thians 13:7, 8). Their patience has “longsuf fering with joyfulness” (Colossians 1:11 KJV). Their peace “transcends all understanding” (Philippians 4:7). Their joy is “inexpressible and glorious” (1 Peter 1:8). Their service is so free and glad that duty is a delight. In a word, this life reaches out into the infinite as well as the eternal, sailing on the shoreless and fathomless seas of God and His infinite grace.

Oh, wher e is such a life to be found? How can the desert place be made to bring forth life to the full?

“Oh, wher e is the sea?” the fishes cried, As they swam the crystal waters thr ough “We have hear d from of old of the ocean tide, And we long to look on the waters blue. The wise ones speak of the infinite sea— Oh, who can tell us if such ther e be?”

Are we who live in the sea of the infinite to imitate those silly fishes, and ask, “Wher e is the God who is ‘not far from every one of us,’ who may be in our inmost hearts by faith, and in whom ‘we live, and move, and have our being’?” (Acts 17:27–28 KJV). D EAN FARRAR

“Have you journeyed to the springs of the sea?” (Job 38:16).

The psalmist said: “With you is the fountain of life” (Psalm 36:9). “All my fountains are in you” (Psalm 87:7).

Gushing Fountains!

In all their affliction he was afflicted, and the angel of his presence saved them: in his love and in his pity he redeemed them; and he bare them, and carried them.

He whom thou lovest is sick.

My grace is sufficient for thee: for my strength is made perfect in weakness.

Most gladly therefore will I rather glory in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon me.

I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me.

We faint not; . . . though our outward man perish, yet the inward man is renewed day by day.

In him we live, and move, and have our being.

He giveth power to the faint; and to them that have no might he increaseth strength.

Even the youths shall faint and be weary, and the young men shall utterly fall: but they that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength.

The eternal God is thy refuge, and underneath are the everlasting arms.

The Lord God formed man of the dust of the ground, and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life; and man became a living soul.

I will praise thee; for I am fearfully and wonderfully made: marvellous are thy works; and that my soul knoweth right well.

My substance was not hid from thee, when I was made in secret. Thine eyes did see my substance, yet being unperfect; and in thy book all my members were written, which in continuance were fashioned, when as yet there was none of them.

Have we not all one father? Hath not one God created us?—In him we live, and move, and have our being.—Like as a father pitieth his children, so the Lord pitieth them that fear him.

He, being full of compassion, forgave their iniquity, and destroyed them not: yea, many a time turned he his anger away, and did not stir up all his wrath.

For he remembered that they were but flesh; a wind that passeth away, and cometh not again.