I walked past Peter into a chamber of immense size.  Although I could see no source of light, the hall was brilliantly illuminated.  There was no furniture, but directly in front of me were huge golden double doors.  They were dazzlingly ornate yet pure.  Like light, both complex and simple.

Peter directed my attention away from the doors toward a small alcove in the adjacent wall.  "Before you may enter through the golden doors to meet the Master, you must first come here,"  he said.  He led me into the small structure.  It was completely dark except for a pale glow which came from a statue in the center of the room.  I was still thinking about what lay beyond the golden gates, but Peter pointed toward the statue before me.

I saw that it was no ordinary work of art.  Superior to any sculpture I had ever seen.  Not just in line and curves, but in essence.  Perfection.  I touched it.  I had the feeling that I should know this work of art.  That I had somehow seen it before.  "Perhaps it was sculpted by some great artisan I studied long ago," I thought to myself.

Peter spoke, breaking my daze.  "This is how you would now look had you used your freedom responsibly for the Master," he said.

I looked again at the statue.  I saw it was true.  The eyes were mine.  It was me - or what should be me - if I had reached my full potential for Christ.

Suddenly the statue changed.  What was left before me was a mass of clay in the shape of a man.  Grotesque in comparison with the statue.  I stood motionless, shocked by the statue's transformation.  Compared with the magnificent work of art I had seen seconds earlier, this statue was lifeless and repulsive. 

After an eternal pause, I raised my hand to examine the features of this new statue.  I jumped back in fear as I saw the statue simultaneously raise its hand toward me.  The horrifying realization suddenly dawned.  This time I needed no explanation from Peter.  I was no longer looking at a statue.

I was looking into a mirror.  The bent creature was myself as I now appeared in reality.  No possibility of masking.  No nipping and tucking away the corners of my carnality.  I saw none of the godliness that was the essence of the statue.  All I could see was my waste and sin.  In a fit of desperate humiliation I fell to the floor and wept.