One of my favorite parts of the Bible—particularly the Old Testament, but also parts of the New—is all the dreaming. Over and over again, we read where God, or an angel, or a heavenly vision appeared to someone. Usually, the Divine Visitor explained what was going on: Why the visitation happened. What it means for the dreamer/receiver of the vision. What will happen next. And, sometimes, what to name the place where the dream/vision took place.
Now, I've got to admit it. Many times, I've longed for a dream of biblical proportions. This particularly was true when I was a young adult, trying to discern all the steps of family, career, and the general path through life. Joanna and I would talk late into the night about what we believed God wanted us to do next: Grad school or seminary? Take the new job or stay put? Buy a house or rent an apartment? Start a family? All our questions seemed weighty and ponderous. And all we really wanted to do was God's will.
So, I longed for God to speak to me. Clearly. Unambiguously. I figured a graphic, detailed dream featuring God or an angel would do the trick. Never mind that I probably would've questioned the sanity of anyone else who claimed to have seen such a vision. I wanted certainty.
Graphic frailty
But what I usually got was doubt and uncertainty. A graphic reminder of my own frailty and inability.
My most persistent vision is a particular version of an amazingly common dream. I've heard about and talked to many people who have dreamed they discover they enrolled in a class but forgot about it until time to take the final exam. Then, they have to pass a test for which they never prepared. Practically everyone—or at least every conscientious student—who ever went to college has dreamed something like this.
My VOPD—very own personal dream—dates to my junior year in high school. After living blissfully for 10 years in a small farming/ranching community, my family moved to a city that was easily 15 to 20 times larger than my hometown. The "new" school I attended was huge. And the distance between my first period and second period classes was as far apart as physically possible—from the first-floor band hall down by the gym to English class on the third floor at the far end of the main building.
Big test, bigger building
So, more than 30 years ago, I started dreaming about taking an exam in a class that, for some reason or other, I never bothered to attend. Later, throughout most of my adult life, the class morphed into a college course, but the physical trappings of the dream remained that colossal old building that scared the bejabbers out of the 17-year-old kid who felt at home in a Texas Panhandle village.
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Some dreams are esoteric, and some are allegorical. Mine—this one, at least—always has been metaphorical. The character in the dream represents me. It was me when I was 17, and it's still me now that I'm 53. The course I never attended is the current big challenge in my life. And the monster of a school building stands for the complicated context in which that challenge takes place.
Actually, I thought my long-term dream—maybe some would call it a nightmare—had become obsolete. I hadn't dreamed it, and rarely thought about it, for ages.
It's baaaaaack!
But it recently reappeared. This time, with a vengeance. I'm still scheduled to take a final exam in a course in which I somehow enrolled but never attended. But the humongous old school building has been connected to a much-larger new building with maze-like hallways and escalators and elevators that require passcodes and intricate knowledge to operate. Also—and this is new to the sequence of my dream—many people are around. They're all familiar with the buildings and the course schedules, but none will help me. In fact, they're rude and mean.
So, I wake up more frustrated than ever.
A dream interpreted
Thankfully, I don't need a prophet or an oracle to interpret my dream: I'm overwhelmed. The Baptist Standard is planning to launch a new web-based ministry to thousands, possibly millions, of young adult Christians. We intend to link them in a vibrant online community that will expand their personal faith, provide them with quality ministry resources and deepen their collaboration through up-to-date social networking tools.
We're thrilled and excited about this ministry. We believe it's a vision—not merely a dream, but a vision—God has given us for strengthening Christian lives, building up the church and expanding God's kingdom.
But, as you might guess, it's going to require money. Lots of money. And I've got to raise it. So, even though I might deny it in the daylight, I get stressed. That's why my old lifelong dream appears. To remind me.
What's so funny?
Ironically, I often wake up laughing when I've had this dream. Sure, I'm still nervous, or else I wouldn't be dreaming this dream. But I can't help but chuckle at the transparency of it all. I've dreamed it so often for so long that I know the hidden underside of it as well as I know the contours of the parts that have played over and over in my sleep through countless nights of my lifetime.
And now, I also laugh at the preposterousness of it all. Through the years, all kinds of anxieties and insecurities prompted me to dream this dream. And through the years, God was bigger than my fears. Sure, some of them were real and consequential. But God never failed to guide me through them. So, the same God who guided me before will guide me again.
Does that mean we'll raise all the money we need to build this new website and launch this new ministry? I pray so and hope so, for I believe God has given us the vision. But I don't know that for certain.
God is present
What I do know is God is here with us as we seek God's will and work our way forward. God is faithful and will not forsake us. God's dreams for us are bigger than our own. God's dreams for me are beyond my imagination.
And I can sleep on that.
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