Dream, 6-22-08

I have had prophetic dreams in the past, by which I mean I’ve dreamed about future events that have taken place. In one case, I dreamed a teenaged girl I was working with had an accident on the road and flipped her car. The next day I told her I’d dreamed about her and we both laughed. When she left work I said, joking, “Be careful on them roads, wild girl.” She called about a half hour later to tell me my dream had come true.

Earlier in my life, when I was about 15, I dreamed about two women who attended my parents’ church. In the dream they murdered my parents, put their flesh in a stew, and began eating it. They stood over the big boiling pot like witches over a cauldron, stirring constantly. (No doubt the recipe for boiled preacher calls for constant stirring...ha ha ha.) I told my father about the dream and he said, “That is from the Lord.” At the time these two women were gossiping and stirring up a lot of trouble in the church, brazenly declaring their superior spirituality. They caused a tremendous rift and many in the church left as a result.

Another time I dreamed that my family suddenly had to move away from our favorite home in Southern Maryland. I told my parents about the dream. A week later, my mother told me my dream was coming true, as we were going to have to move. (To Delaware, as it turned out.)

I don’t talk much about things like this because the church--and I mean especially Pentecostal and Charismatic churches, here--is so far off track as far as God’s Word is concerned that they mistake things like this for spirituality, or place visions, dreams, angelic visitations, gold fillings and mystical experiences in higher regard than they should be placed. People erroneously (and sometimes subconsciously) think we need two or three dramatic confirmations about things God has already declared. And they forget that God will allow a “false word” or a lying prophet to show up to prove His people: that’s why a story found in 1 Kings 13 has always fascinated me.

Anyway, last night I slept with the kids in a tent we’d purchased to go camping in. (We set it up this weekend for a kind of dry run, just to be sure we know how to set up a tent and sleep in it before we get somewhere else and realize we’re idiots.) Before I went to sleep I was thinking about Jacob at Bethel, on the lam, sleeping in the open air with a rock for a pillow when he saw the vision of the angels ascending and descending the ladder.

The Dream

In the early morning hours, I had this dream:

Our church’s former assistant pastor was officiating a service at our church. I was sitting in the back, not really participating in any of the events taking place (like normal). Presently I became aware of a serious disturbance outside the sanctuary and rushed into the hallway. When I got to the hallway, all was dark and quiet. The doors in the hallway were closed. I opened the door of the nursery (the first door on the left), and there were several dead men on the floor, face-down. I could see the blueness of their necks and hands, and blood blossoming out from wounds underneath their fallen frames.

I closed the door and went back to the sanctuary. When the assistant pastor stepped off the podium and began to take a seat, I went over to him and put my hand on his shoulder. I told him softly, “I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but all your brothers are dead.”

He was visibly moved and at the point of tears as we walked to the nursery together and I opened the door. But the dead men had changed to several children I recognized from the church. They were lying in the same way, face-down, and they were dead, but also hogtied and gagged.

When I awoke, the picture of bondage and death in the dream left me feeling a little freaked out, but the meaning seemed obvious. I’m not sure what, if anything, God’s trying to tell me with it, considering it’s old news.

The Meaning

This would be clear to anyone who knows the history and current situation at our church, but I figured I'd offer a few lines about the symbolism of this dream.

The assistant pastor of our church was appointed and dismissed from service under dubious circumstances, without the blessing or input of the congregation or any communication whatsoever before the events occurred. He was not even a member of the church before being placed in his "pastorhood," which caused offense from the very start. This put him in a difficult position, and he often felt isolated and unsupported. He left as quickly as he came, causing many hearts (including mine) to grieve and question how his situation was handled from start to finish. He was a central figure in my dream.

Over a year ago, a men's group was started at our church with the understanding that the men were disconnected and inactive as members of our church. We felt that something needed to be done to rectify this problem: men needed to be unified to do the work of the Kingdom together, to lead and direct the spiritual pursuits of their families and the church. Consequently, questions were raised about how the former assistant pastor came to be placed in his position, how he came to leave it so quickly, and how our church chooses leaders to begin with. Questions were also raised about the role of women in church (though it was obvious that the role of MEN in church was the first thing to be worked out). As these two issues were confronted, a disintegration occurred, and the Word of God proved to be the dividing line.

The men were face-down in the nursery, bleeding; these were the "brothers" who were dead. The nursery symbolizes a place where new life learns to function, where little kids play, build things, fall down, laugh and cry. In this formative place, at the cusp of a world of new discovery, the men were wounded and silenced.

On the second visit to the nursery, the men had turned into children from the church. This speaks of the effect the silence, wounding, and demonic resistance toward men as leaders has on the next generation.

Cautions I've been thinking about.

If there arise among you a prophet, or a dreamer of dreams, and giveth thee a sign or a wonder, and the sign or the wonder come to pass, whereof he spake unto thee, saying, Let us go after other gods, which thou hast not known, and let us serve them; thou shalt not hearken unto the words of that prophet, or that dreamer of dreams: for the LORD your God proveth you, to know whether ye love the LORD your God with all your heart and with all your soul. ~ Deuteronomy 13:1-3

And he said, Hear thou therefore the word of the LORD: I saw the LORD sitting on his throne, and all the host of heaven standing by him on his right hand and on his left. And the LORD said, Who shall persuade Ahab, that he may go up and fall at Ramothgilead? And one said on this manner, and another said on that manner. And there came forth a spirit, and stood before the LORD, and said, I will persuade him. And the LORD said unto him, Wherewith? And he said, I will go forth, and I will be a lying spirit in the mouth of all his prophets. And he said, Thou shalt persuade him, and prevail also: go forth, and do so. Now therefore, behold, the LORD hath put a lying spirit in the mouth of all these thy prophets, and the LORD hath spoken evil concerning thee. ~ 1 Kings 22:19-23

Conformity

I have no plans of trying to become the waffling, sissypated, sniffle-snaffle milktoast man they’re really hoping to see. Does that mean I'm unteachable, that I lack wisdom, that I'm proud? I hope not. I just want to be conformed to the right image.

For those whom He foreknew, He also predestined to become conformed to the image of His Son, so that He would be the firstborn among many brethren. Romans 8:29

Forgiveness

I was pretty lazy on Saturday, and at one point I found myself watching some kind of weird show on one of the major networks about forgiveness. It wasn’t a Christian show at all, but I’d been thinking about all the chaos in church and people I respect acting...well...not the way I’d expect grown men to act. I’ve been going around in a funky stew for weeks because of cover-ups, lies of omission, denials, fraud--all the stuff I hate about myself and my history that I’ve seen in our church environment lately. Besides not knowing what to do or say in the wake of it all, I’ve been feeling downright pissed off.

So anyways, I’m watching this show called Choosing to Forgive, and it’s testimonies of these people from different faiths and walks of life who’ve suffered some horrific trauma and have chosen to forgive the person(s) responsible for their loss and anguish.

The Lord commanded us to forgive because forgiveness is about our freedom. Forgiveness is for the wounded first, and for the perpetrator second. Forgiveness sets me free even if people don’t realize they’ve offended me, even if relationship is impossible.

Anyway I realized while watching that show that I needed to forgive the people who didn’t listen, or judged me, or said they needed my input but really didn’t want it, or hid themselves behind a spiritual mask, clutching their fig leaves, or are just plain obtuse, or said they care but never bothered to ask how I’m doing. I don’t have to understand these things. A thorough analysis would bring no real peace.

The only thing to do is to choose to forgive, and ask the Lord to keep my heart soft toward others. He loves them despite their shortcomings, same as He loves me.

Don’t Know About You, But I Am Un Chien Andalousia

The men’s meetings at church have been abolished by the leadership. Only God knows why. It probably has something to do with me and my trenchant, odious mouth. There was a lot of talk, that’s all. High talk. Nothing of substance. Flatulence. Finest vanity I’ve seen in my whole short life.

Now: silence, wondering, and more dreaming.

Something going on in Florida proved to be a sad distraction away from what God was saying to the group, to the important issues being brought to bear in the hearts of men on the local level. There is so much I would like to write about the Florida thing, but I won’t. Suffice it to say that a temporary miracle (they are all temporary) is not as important as the message of the cross: sinful man, blood atonement, wonderful Redeemer, and Him crucified. Any great “move of God” that isn’t ensconced in a message of repentance, godly sorrow and the Cross is questionable, miracles or not. That’s what defined the movements of the Wesleys, Jonathan Edwards, George Whitefield, Charles Finney, and D.L. Moody, as well as (obviously) the message of the apostles and prophets. I haven’t heard much of that coming out of Florida. It surprises me how long Todd Bentley can talk without ever getting into the Word. I like what Gamaliel said: “If this counsel or this work be of men, it will come to nought: But if it be of God, ye cannot overthrow it; lest haply ye be found even to fight against God.” On the other hand, I won’t favor Gamaliel’s counsel over Jesus or Paul or John. False prophets are out there, and they prophesy--they don’t churn butter. False teachers teach. Things have to be questioned, proved, tested. Jesus said people would stand before Him proclaiming miracles they did in His name, and He would say “Depart from Me, I never knew you.” There has to be more than emotions and miraculous signs.

And anything God says or does in the church-at-large should not detract from what He is stirring at the local level. This is where I feel we crashed and burned.

More than ever I wonder what I’m doing, what my purpose is, why I go to church. The church is in as much of a dark age as those precipitating the appearance of John the Baptist and Martin Luther, but as in Laodicea there is no acknowledgment or recognition. Sometimes I feel like the only one awaiting not a great end-time revival, but a great falling away. I am weary of this world: I want to see Jesus.

And I also wonder why God doesn’t always give an answer or bring clarity. There was no divine intervention or obvious “present word” when Paul and Barnabas argued over John Mark, or when the early church debated whether Gentiles should be circumcised. They just had to hash the thing out and sometimes division resulted.

There was extreme drama in the family for the past few weekends. My mother has sold her house in North Carolina and is moving to upstate New York, where she was born. My siblings are not on speaking terms.

The guy I’ve been training for the past four months quit last week after being disciplined by our supervisor. He was a mere eight days from taking his driving test, and he was definitely ready to pass it. Nice kid. I miss him, especially since I don’t have his help anymore and my days last week were all 12+ hours. I felt bad that he quit, since he’d worked so hard for so long and was on the verge of getting his Class A license.

I am waiting, holding myself before the Lord in every sphere: job, vocation, finances, church, living situations, relationships. I was thinking this morning that no matter where I have been in life He has always been present, has always given me hope. The early church sang this song:

If we died with him,
we will also live with him;
if we endure,
we will also reign with him.
If we disown him,
he will also disown us;
if we are faithless,
he will remain faithful,
for he cannot disown himself.