My Dream
I was sound asleep, rocking gently at the bottom of my ocean, the waves soundlessly buffeting far above me. My world was dark, at peace.
I did not feel the turmoil until I was picked up gently and carried abruptly into my dream.
I found myself standing on the edge of a deep ravine. The air was hot and still, heavy with the despair of the great crowd of humanity standing behind me. The red earth glinted around me. Deep, dry cracks as void of moisture as if a hundred years without rain. My feet were bare and I was covered in dirty, ragged cloth.
I stood there, my knees buckling as I heard hopeless screaming crack through the still air. Still, nobody moved. There was nowhere to go. I glanced down over the ravine to see only the tops of many, many heads floundering deep in the hot, dark mire. I looked up to where I knew the son of God was standing, looking at me. It was my turn. I was alone.
I could not move. My bowels turned to water and I felt naked. Here I am. I have no time left, I cannot redeem anything. No words are sufficient nor do they matter. I am naked before the knowing. I am hopelessly aware of how insufficient anything I have ever done, is. The knowing is too deep and all-seeing. I cannot even groan. I just wait.
I know I have nothing to give, nothing to offer, nothing to help. I am alone, behind me the great hoards of those waiting, in front of me, the deep ravine filled with hopeless, screaming souls.
But I know him, that one that stands just out of view, only his brightness visible to the eyes on this side of the ravine. But I know him, and in that moment of terror and death, I wait, knowing I am his.
His words come across the ravine, cutting through the shrieking groans like a knife. Like a cool bucket of refreshing water, they run over me, filling me with strength and pure white-hot joy.
“You are mine, come to me now, come across the ravine”.
I don’t hesitate.
I don’t look down.
I don’t look back.
I run.
Fearlessly, I run across the screaming, groaning masses, desperately reaching towards me as if my victory could somehow be contagious. But I do not take my eyes off the brightness ahead, sprinting, my heart singing. I reach the other side and clamor effortlessly out of the deep ravine, my body infused with lightness and joy.
I am his and he is mine.
When I woke up once again, in my ocean, I found myself speechless, my soul filled with such inexplicable joy, I struggled not to cry out and wake my entire house. My dream is so precious, that I cannot speak of it for weeks, until finally I attempt to put the feelings into words as I recounted my dream to my husband. I am awkward as I speak because when I speak, the words do not flow as they do when I write. I struggled to put into words the absolute nakedness of my soul. The feeling of my bowels turning to water at the terribleness of my God who is seeing me, all-knowing me. The feeling of joy as I sprint across that final ravine and up to my Jesus who is waiting there for me, with his hand out.
For the rest of my life, I will be more honest, because he knows all.
I will give more mercy because he gave me all mercy.
And for the rest of my short life, I will remember that my citizenship is not here, and someday my rags will be exchanged for pure, white clothes. I will eat peaches and chat with Sarah, Deborah, David, and Elijah while my earthly body is in the ground.
Perspective gives me the courage to put my hand to my plow and not look back.