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.

Left alone!” What different emotions these words bring to mind for each of us! To some they mean loneliness and grief, but to others they may mean rest and quiet. To be left alone without God would be too horrible for words, while being left alone with Him is a taste of heaven! And if His followers spent more time alone with Him, we would have spiritual giants again.

Our Master set an example for us. Remember how often He went to be alone with God? And there was a powerful purpose behind His command, “When you pray, go into your room, close the door and pray” (Matthew 6:6).

The greatest miracles of Elijah and Elisha took place when they were alone with God. Jacob was alone with God when he became a prince (Genesis 32:28). In the same way, we too may become royalty and people who are “wondered at” (Zechariah 3:8 KJV). Joshua was alone when the Lord came to him (Joshua 1:1). Gideon and Jephthah were by themselves when commissioned to save Israel (Judges 6:11; 11:29). Moses was by himself at the burning bush (Exodus 3:1–5). Cornelius was praying by himself when the Angel of God came to him (Acts 10:1–4). No one was with Peter on the housetop when he was instructed to go to the Gentiles (Acts 10:9–28). John the Baptist was alone in the wilderness (Luke 1:80), and John the Beloved was alone on the island of Patmos when he was the closest to God (Revelation 1:9).

Earnestly desire to get alone with God. If we neglect to do so, we not only rob ourselves of a blessing but rob others as well, since we will have no blessing to pass on to them. It may mean that we do less outward, visible work, but the work we do will have more depth and power. Another wonderful result will be that people will see “no one except Jesus” (Matthew 17:8) in our lives.

The impact of being alone with God in prayer cannot be overemphasized.

If chosen men had never been alone, In deepest silence open-doored to God, No greatness would ever have been dreamed or done.

Can we not imagine how eagerly John would lay himself out for a life in incessant service for His Divine Master and Lord? No task would seem too great, no toil too arduous, if only His Lord might be glorified; and we can well imagine how all his plans, ambitions, desires would center round the extension of the kingdom of Jesus Christ. Then, suddenly—Patmos! What now became of all his hopes and longings, his plans and projects? Surely he buried them all as he set foot on Patmos. They died when he first heard his sentence; they were interred with no prospect of a resurrection. Patmos was, for the beloved disciple The Island of Buried Hopes!

But John soon discovered that Patmos had its compensations. True, he could no longer entertain the hope of carrying out all his plans, yet he learned in Patmos that truer and nobler service would yet be his than any he had ever contemplated. To him came the assurance that not only has the Lord loved us, and washed us from our sins in His own blood, but He hath set us apart as both kings and priests, and nothing can ever terminate that royal priesthood. John had caught sight of a far greater honor and holier service awaiting him in the land that lies beyond.

It might have been thought that John in his dreary exile was terribly isolated. Someone has said not isolated, but insulated, and there is a world of difference between the two. True, the island was small and his confines narrow, but that was only the outer circumstance of his life, his daily environment.

Nothing to see! Alone! Ah, but John found it not so! The overwhelming glory of the sight of his risen Lord robbed him of his strength until he felt the gracious gentle pressure of the pierced Hand resting upon him. Again and again he tells us that he heard a Voice speaking to him. Whilst these things were so he could never feel that there was nothing to see! He could never feel alone! And the Spirit so insulated John that God’s messages might pass through him to the entire world!

Most of us are well acquainted with this experience. We may not have had to suffer at the hands of any earthly potentate, but there must be comparatively few who have not, at some time, had to bury their fondest hopes, their most eager desires. Oh, weary troubled heart, if God has led you to the Island of Buried Hopes, it is that He may show you yet more wonderful things. He has not failed you, nor forgotten you, but has led you into the darkened room because, in His own time and way, He would reveal to you the unsuspected glory of His grace and power.

Is our life lonely? Monotonous? We need opened eyes. Standing near us all the time is the same wonderful Lord who stood by John on Patmos. Oh, the joy, even of Patmos, when it is filled with the presence of Jesus! Patmos has its compensations!

But if we would share in them, and Patmos is to be a blessing to us, we must fulfill certain conditions. Here is the secret that transforms all disappointments, suffering, monotony, loneliness—love to Christ, that impels us to learn of Him day by day, to lean upon Him in constant communion, to look upon Him as the all-sufficient Savior.

To those who fulfill these conditions there is no Patmos that is not irradiated by a glory that is not of earth.

Our Father makes no mistakes!