Jesus of my Dreams

I’ve only had one reoccurring dream in my lifetime. To this day, it gives me chills. 

The dream occurred during a time when Jesus walked the Earth, and, apparently, He chose to be at my Church one day. His seat of honor was hanging from the vaulted ceiling, with a ladder set up for the “Prepared and Privileged” to climb in order to sit with Him. At 6 years old, disabled and unsteady, I decided to climb the ladder that must have been at least 20 feet tall. 

Maybe four rungs away from reaching my Jesus, I slipped and, screaming, began to tumble to what should have been my death. Just before I hit the ground, Jesus’ arms came around me and He whispered, “I’ll never let you go, Baby Girl. Never.” 

I’ve had that dream 2 other times in my life time. Each time, I’d slip right before reaching Jesus. Each time, Jesus would catch me at seemingly the last minute. Every time I’d wake up from the dream, I had one thought: “I have no idea why I had that dream.”

The last time I had that dream was probably 10 years ago. Today, people would call me a Doubting Thomas. I’m the one struggles to speak rather than stay pensively silent when an atheist tells me s/he doesn’t believe Christ is real. I know Christ is real. I also know what it’s like to waste away a night of angry tears wondering if I’m wasting my time on a Person that doesn’t exist. When confronted with a view that raises more questions than answers (and has fluid “facts” otherwise known as opinions), my heart is filled with one brokenly desperate plea: “Dear, Dear Jesus! Help me work out my faith, but please… protect my heart.”

Being cynical is about the most dangerous characteristic to carry over when you are a Believer in Jesus Christ.

Faith is often times described as, “Believing in what you cannot see.” Christianity is equally faith and fact; but often times I forget that. When a question regarding my faith is met with the answer, “You don’t need the answer to believe God is real”… I struggle to remember it’s an acceptable answer. 

My lack of faith does not constitute God’s lack of existence.

Recently, I was given several unanswered questions that made my heart ache and quake as my lifelong faith was put under scrutiny. I had to ask a question I was almost certain I wouldn’t hear an answer to: Dear Jesus. How can you stay silent? Are you even there? Are you… Are you real?

In the blink of an eye, the dream of my childhood came back. So did the nights I remember being completely alone working through another mind-breaking seizure and feeling Someone’s hand on my back and the words, “I’m here, Baby Girl. I know your name. You’re safe with Me.” All completely unexplainable moments when Jesus showed up. All of them incredibly real.

All the sudden, the dream of my Childhood meant more. All the sudden, my suffering through a lonely childhood because of my epilepsy made sense. All the sudden, the reoccurring dream of Jesus saving me at the last moment wasn’t a dream. It was a tangible reality.

Faith doesn’t make sense. But the One I have faith in always shows up- even when it may not seem necessary. 

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