Read My Dream

Another lazy Sunday afternoon. And I decided to take a nap, after all, I was cold, tired and had little to do.
I lay face down on the bed, sunlight peering through the window, but not really helping with the winter chills.

And I was asleep. I knew it. I had been here before. I could feel the pillow beneath me, I could feel my hands clenching the soft duvet under me. I never bothered to get under, I was too tired, and couldn’t do much about it now that I was out.
But now I wished I could wake up.
There is a sense of evil around me. Its closing in, it wants to devour me. I know it. I have been here before.
I struggle and struggle to open my eyes. But my body refuses to respond. I try to shake myself awake, but there’s no movement. I can still feel the bed beneath me, but I am powerless; at the mercy of this horrid dream.
I must focus, keep fighting, I know it, I have been here before. Push through, fight, don’t give up!
I’m awake!
Everything around me is so familiar, but I have not been here before. I’m in my apartment, its quite high up, and next to me is a person. I know him. I don’t know his name. I thought I knew him, but slowly he reveals himself. He has a wicked scheme. He’s about to do something bad. I must catch him before he goes through with it.
But he’s gone, out the building and into the park beneath in a flash. I chase him, the elevator isn’t working so I slide down something which resembles a fire escape into the park below.
My friends are all there.
Now this man I’m chasing reveals himself. His wicked plan. Its horrible. He must be stopped.
But he mockingly turns around. Picks up a handful of swords and tosses them at us while laughing and shouts, “Come and challenge me!”

By now I have realised that he is far too powerful for me or my friends. We are weak, powerless, and will be crushed. I look at my sword, the one he threw at me, and realise that it is useless against this evil.
Then I remember a sword. The only sword which could slay this man. To my shame it is not in my hand.
“Hurry! Who has the sword of the spirit!” I shout. My friends look confused, “Its the only weapon that will work!”. Then I hear a voice, a friend shouts back, “I have it!”. So I run over and take a look.
At first I am relieved, I see an inscription on the sword. It looks like that verse. “Now we can fight”, I think, “but let me check one more time”. I look down at the inscription more carefully this time. Oh, it looks like that verse, but its not. It was a trick, just a jumble of useless words.
Downcast and frustrated, I sigh. “This is not it”.
Then I woke up.
For real.
(Ephesians 6:17; Hebrews 4:12-13)

The Naked Church

As I was sitting in Church, just one of those days, those regular church days, I began to drift off into wander. As if led by some mysterious guide. As you know, in some dreams you can see everyone but no one can see you. That’s how it was. I was aware of their presence, but not them of mine. Being a spectator I could not partake, but I could experience. And this is what I saw:

A church, not so different from yours or mine. But with a difference. Oh not louder music, not bigger smiles, not even more, how do they say…”spirit filled”. No, the difference was, the church was naked. Now if you know what I mean by “Church'” you know I’m not talking about the four brick walls and tiled roof. Every man woman and child stood there bare, praising their God.

I thought, “have these people no shame!”, “look at them revealed! They call themselves God’s own, how can they be if they’re exposed to the bone!”

But then my guide, he touched my eyes, and I began to see, see some of what they could see. I saw a brother with a scar here, a sister with a wound there, a child with bruise, an injured parent. I saw the pain of their suffering, the cries of their hearts. I saw the joy in their steps, the freedom in their laughter.

Then as if all at once, they turned to one another. Their leader had instructed them to do something, I never heard what, I must have been too shocked by the sight. But without uttering a word, each one turned to his neighbour with eyes that loved: they surrendered their inconvenience, forgot themselves, dressed each wound, mended the injured, soothed the bruised, poured oil on their scars. Tears in my eyes, I tried to partake. But as I stepped forward, my guide caught my hand.

I woke up.

Now I am in reality. We are all clothed to the collar. Ashamed, hidden, unwilling to expose.
(John 3:19-21, Ephesians 5:13, 1 John 1:7)

Fuel you can’t go without

There once was a man who who owned the most luxurious car in the world, he paid a lot of money for it, he had it cleaned and serviced regularly…it was quite the masterpiece. People from all over admired him for it, some may say that he was worshiped for the stunning piece of machinery. He was liked, a role model, all who knew him longed to achieve what he had, to be able to sit in heaven on wheels. But, with all the glitz and glamour, there was a problem that everyone had overlooked: The car had no fuel and it never went anywhere.

Just across the road their lived a poor delivery boy, all he had was a rotten old scooter, the noise it made irritated the neighbours, others laughed and made jokes about it, it looked like it hadn’t been cleaned or serviced in years. But, the boy never missed a delivery, he went to and fro as was needed of him. With all of the filth, noise and unassuming boy driving the beat up scooter, no one realised: The scooter had fuel and it went places.
With all of our skills, talents, looks and charm, we may be praised, we may be the centre of attention and we may be considered a success. But in God’s Kingdom, if we are not fueled and empowered by the Holy Spirit. We’re never going to get anywhere.

Fishing, farming, catching, reaping

Once there was a man, a farmer, who set out to sow some grain. A bountiful harvest was what he was after. Try as he may his efforts were of no use. Until one day he found some good, ripe ground in which to plant his seeds. With the right sonlight and loving care his crop grew to a bountiful harvest.
There was another man who liked to fish. Through sweat and tears, from dry days to stormy nights he toiled in the same spot: trusting, hoping, praying to catch a prize. To no avail. Little did he know that around the bend were schools of fish waiting to be hoisted in. “It’s another mans pond”, he thought, and dared not venture there.
How many times must one emphasise the size of the harvest before it is reaped? How many times must one point out the multitude of fish before they are caught?
Someone will sow. Someone will reap. Someone will catch.
Someone will wear a splendid crown. 
One Bible in one language can directly reach millions. Give a man a sermon and you’ll feed him for a day. Give him a Bible that he can understand and you’ll feed him for a lifetime.