Of Course!

In my dream, I was a drop of water. I was part of a raging river, and a million other drops of water and I were jostling against each other, rushing downstream. I wondered out loud why we were in such a hurry, but none of the other drops of water seemed to have any idea where we were going. "We're just doing what drops of water do," one told me. "You can't change anything." "Well, I'm doing exactly what I want to," said another. "I'm the master of my fate, the captain of my soul!" It was funny to hear a drop of water talk about his soul that way. It was also funny to hear that he thought he could control where he was going. He was going exactly where we all were, wherever that was.

Then suddenly, as people sometimes inexplicably know things in dreams, I knew what awaited us drops of water at the end of the river's course. The river was taking us hurtling toward a waterfall, but just as we were no ordinary drops of water (ordinary drops of water do not think and talk), this was no ordinary waterfall. I discovered that I knew that this waterfall dropped into a hole, and I also knew that the hole had no bottom. Water that entered the hole would fall, fall, fall and never get anywhere, and it would never come back.

I desperately wanted to avoid the waterfall! I squeezed my way between the other drops until I reached the edge of the river, but I discovered that drops of water cannot climb out of rivers. I did find that when we crashed against the bank in a curve or against a rock midstream, I could actually jump out of the river temporarily, but I would always fall back in among the others. Some lucky drops had managed to jump at just the right time and land in little pools by the side, but I noticed that even those pools were flowing back into the river, a temporary postponing of the inevitable. There was no way we drops of water could save ourselves! We were doomed to go over the waterfall!

In despair I looked up into the sky, hopelessly trying to think of a way out before I got to the edge. If only I could fly like a bird and escape into the sky! If only I could go up into those clouds! If only the sun could somehow draw me out of the river up to where it was! Impulsively, irrationally, I cried out to the sun. Help me, sun! Please!

All of a sudden I began to feel warm. The sun was warming me! It filled me with its own heat, and I began to feel... different. I was still water, but I had absorbed something of the sun into myself. I had been transformed into something I wasn't before. I had ceased to be just a drop of water, rushing helplessly to my doom, and I had turned into vapor. I rose up from the river, and floated up into the clouds. The sun had saved me from the bottomless pit!

And you were dead in the trespasses and sins in which you once walked, following the course of this world... -from Ephesians 2:1-2

I waited patiently for the Lord;
      he inclined to me and heard my cry.
He drew me up from the pit of destruction... -from Psalm 40:1-2 ESV

And we all, with unveiled face, beholding the glory of the Lord, are being transformed... -from 2 Corinthians 3:18 ESV

So if the Son sets you free, you will be free indeed. -John 8:36 ESV

Lenses

by Michael Jones

And there in my dream, I saw a table.
On the table was a swirling cloud,
Moving and changing,
Pulsing with energy,
And I knew it was my life.
Looking straight at it I could make out nothing.
It was constantly evolving,
Reorganizing,
Developing and dissolving,
With the details always just out of reach.

But next to my life were five viewers,
Hand-held like a detective's magnifier,
With lenses five different colors.
I knew in my dream that if I used them to view my life,
They would help me see the truth.

I picked up the rose-colored glass.

Through it, I saw my family and how much they love me.
I saw that I have been blessed with food to feed them and
Money to buy things for them.
I saw my good friends, my favorite movies,
My talents and my joys,
My happinesses and my comforts.
And I also saw my blissful, willful ignorance of poverty
Illness
Hunger
Violence
Need
And I put down the rose-colored glass.

Then I picked up the sepia-colored glass.

Through it I saw my childhood, with all its happy times.
Summers playing outside
Shooting water pistols
Playing games, bought and invented
But I couldn't see the sad and hard times I remembered.
No confusing homework
Snubs by girls
Loneliness
Fear of the monsters under the bed
It was comfortable but it was a lie, so I put down the sepia-colored glass.

Then I picked up the glass with the blue lens.

I could see the day my dog died
The day my grandmother died
The days my hope died
I saw report cards with bad grades
Myself crying at night and not knowing why
Favorite toys broken
Not getting the job
That miscarriage
The friend who cheated me
The associate who used me
The year without a job
The deep, dark vortex of depression
I couldn't live without happiness — I put down the blue glass.

I hoped for better luck with the glass with the crystal-clear lens.
The handle was white, and it cast a light of its own.
And when I looked at my life in that harsh light,
I saw it with a brutal
Crystal
Clarity.
I saw that I sometimes hate, even to the point of fury.
I saw that I desire, even to the point of covetousness and sometimes lust.
I saw that I am prideful and sometimes look at others with disdain.
I saw that my selfishness often overrides my generosity.
I dropped the lens like it had just come out of a fire.
It was then that I noticed that it was nicked and scratched
Like it had been used as a weapon
And the lens, though crystal-clear, was distorted
And the whole thing smelled of sulfur.

The last glass scared me a little bit.
The lens was transparent, but it was blood red.
The handle was wooden, with a cross-beam, almost like a sword hilt.
For some reason, it seemed to me
In my dream
That this lens would show me the WHOLE truth
Not the par
tial
tru
th
...like the others.
The pieces of the truth were terrible enough;
How awful would the WHOLE truth be?

But I picked up the blood-red lens.
The lens of The Whole Truth.
And what I saw astounded me.

I saw the things that bring joy to my life: the people who love me,
My talents and my joys,
My happinesses and my comforts.
I saw the happy times of my childhood and my adulthood,
And I also saw the sad and lonely times.
I saw deaths, physical and emotional.
I saw my gaping flaws of character
That cause me to fail time and again.
And I saw the deep, dark depression that sometimes seeks to consume me.

I saw all of those things.
But it was as though they were covered with blood,
Overpowered by blood,
Eradicated by blood.
Made irrelevant.
Ancient history that never happened.
The handle was not just the hilt of a sword;
It was also something else.
And as the blood dripped down from the crossbeams
And covered my pathetic attempt at leading a good life
I knew that I was being cleansed,
Forgiven,
Regenerated,
Revitalized,
Given another chance.

And I knew I would fail again.
And again.
And probably many more agains.
But I knew that the blood-red lens would not only show me the truth,
But it would change that truth
And make me whole.

And then I woke up
And closed my Bible
And how about that?
It was all true


Copyright ©2009 by Michael Jones