After that I will pour out my spirit upon everyone;
your sons and your daughters will prophesy,
your old men will dream dreams,
and your young men will see visions.
--Joel 2:28
I believe that God speaks to us in many ways. Sometimes it's through spiritual disciplines like prayer, Bible study, worship, fasting, giving, silence, sharing our faith or service to others. Sometimes God uses another person in order to share a word or offer strength, comfort and peace at just the right time. There are times that God breaks into our subconscious and speaks to us in dreams.
It happened with Nebuchadnezzar. He had a mighty vision where God showed him the future of his empire. Pharaoh had a dream. God was warning him that a time of famine would follow a time of plenty so that he might plan and prepare for the future.
Just to be clear -- many times our dreams are a manifestation of all that we have been going through and just have not had the time to process. I understand that. But occasionally, perhaps more often than we realize, God can use the quiet of our sleep to bring a message that might be worth sharing with others.
And the other night, I had a dream...
It was vivid and startling -- clear and convincing in every detail. I was gathered with some of my family at my grandmother's house. My mom, aunt and uncle, brothers, and cousins were there (as well as my wife). I cannot remember what we were doing in the den, but I remembered what happened next...
I felt something shake. It was like sitting in a house near railroad tracks except extraordinary in intensity. Everyone felt the vibrations as wide, questioning eyes stared at each other. What was happening? Was it a train? Not out here in the country...Was it an earthquake? Surely not.
But then it happened again. Hands grasped for furniture; arms wrapped around heavy chairs and propped open door-frames. Twenty seconds, then thirty passed. Instead of subsiding, the whole house began to tremble. I have never felt an earthquake like this. Surely the house would shake apart.
And then the unthinkable began to happen. The house began to spin -- not like a carousel, but like a hamster wheel. As the roof plummeted toward the ground, we braced our hands on the ceiling while standing on what furniture we could. Incessantly changing from hand stands to sideways to upright was absolutely exhausting. We must have rolled for 5 full minutes until everything....just....stopped.
There was both finality and fatality in the stillness. Something had happened. Something was far different than just a few minutes before. We stumbled out the door to assess the damage only to be greeted by an alien landscape. No, I don't mean from another planet. It was far removed from the wood-bordered fields that surround my grandmother's house. We were in a place that we did not recognize. We were at an intersection far from other people. In the midst of the chaos was a simple street sign -- the green kind with white letters indicating the names of roads. One road name was so battered that I could not make it out. The other name, the path that seemed to go forward from where we were, was clearly labeled with one word. The road was named "FREEDOM."
So what does any of this mean and how is it relevant?
My grandmother recently passed away after battling Alzheimer's for many years. Before her disease took a grip of her mind, her house was the center of Sunday afternoon. The whole family and any guests we invited would pull around the table (or tables), and we would spend the afternoon together. The early rumblings of Alzheimer's began to shake those traditions when she forgot how to cook first one thing and then another. As the disease gradually progressed, the rumbling sent our family spinning and tumbling through year after year. We watched her fade away until (last November) everything...just ...stopped. My grandmother died.
But there is a truth behind my dream that fuels my desire to share it: when my grandmother's life ended, she began her journey on a new road, the road of freedom. For those of us who have faith in Christ, death is not the end, it is only the beginning. We are transformed back into the fullness of who God intended us to be. We join with the saints drinking from the River of Life and enjoying the Tree of Life that brings us healing (Revelation 22:1-2).
I believe that my dream was a gift of grace for me, and I wanted to share it with others. These last few months have been difficult as I grieve the loss of "Granny." April 24, 2013 would have been her 94th birthday. I was reminded that even though the grief can have me upside down, sideways, and exhausted, God has given Granny freedom that she will never lose again. I may find myself in a strange and new environment, but I know that God continues to leave me signs that point me toward hope.
May we find courage in our grief, hope in our despair, and life in our death.
For in Christ, freedom is more than a dream,
it is the life that welcomes all faithful disciples
in this life and in the life to come.
