BAD CHRISTIAN ALERT: By age 23, I had only read one verse out of the book of Revelation. To be honest, it scared me. I heard in Sunday school about dragons and animals with too many eyes and wings and fighting and fire and earthquakes and locusts and plagues and scary stuff. So I stuck to the happy parts of the Bible, and the parts about Jesus on earth. After the summer of 2010, I decided to pull out my Bible and flip to the pristine pages holding the book of Revelation. I was going to read Revelation no matter how scary it was. I needed to see if my dreams were true.
Dreams have always been my favorite part of sleeping. Certain dreams are embedded in my memory. In the summer of 2010, I had two dreams one week apart, both unlike any others I can remember. Both dreams depicted Jesus returning to earth from a different point of view. One dream was from my point of view, the other was me watching from behind as a woman stood on a balcony overlooking the ocean. I could feel her emotions and knew her thoughts.
For a couple of months after I had the dreams they would replay in my head like a movie, but I refused to tell anyone about them. Eventually I told my hubs and one other person — a hippie friend who eagerly believes in out-of-the-norm-crazy-things. Each time I told the story, I would preface by explaining how badly I wished I could paint, because an artist could more accurately portray the beauty of the scenes from my dreams than I ever could. I still believe this to be true.
I didn’t muster up the willpower to read Revelation until November 2010, months after having the dreams. I decided it was time to find out what the heck was up with my dreams of the second coming. I recommend everyone read the book of Revelation. (And then go read the book Heaven is for Real, because that little kid straight up tells details from Revelation that no one could know at age 4.)
While reading Revelation, I found some similarities between my dreams and the scriptures. I have shared my dreams with very few people, but feel as if I should share them more. Sharing would be easier if I could paint.
A couple nights ago I was lying in bed praying, tucked in my covers comfy and ready to sleep. I prayed I would do God’s will with my talents — andthentheycame. Words flooded my brain mid-prayer. I hadn’t even said In Jesus’ name, Amen yet and words were rushing through my brain begging to be written down. I bolted out of bed, ran to the other room, grabbed my laptop, and released the words onto the screen.
After I finished writing, I had written down one of my dreams in a really weird voice. It isn’t my normal writing voice. It’s just…odd. It was also odd that one of my dreams from over a year ago was staring me in the face. I can’t paint. God knows He did not give me painting as a talent. But God also knows I love to write. He redirected my expression of the dream from wishing I could paint, to allowing me to write it down. Even though I had been given a clear way to share my dream…I still didn’t want to share it. There was still a big fat barrier stopping me from putting the dream out there.
- Who knows if this is how the second coming will really happen? No one except for God, which means my dream may be all kinds of wrong.
- Who cares about my dream of the second coming if it’s wrong? I am sharing my dream for 2 reasons:
- It was the most powerful, visually stimulating dream I have ever had and I believe God gave me the words to finally write it down.
- It is a beautiful, moving scene that will hopefully help me refocus and refresh my view on life. I need to recenter around what is really important during this holiday season.
So, with the BIGFATBARRIER now notquiteasfat, I will share my dream of the second coming in word form.
A Dream of the Sun
Sun peeks over a quiet ocean.
I relax on a sandstone balcony overlooking endless Persian blue. My post high above the water places me at a vantage point familiar only to seagulls. A man I love stands beside me. My hands rest on the sandstone railing gritty beneath my fingers. Peace falls down from the heavens in rays of light casting orange and purple over a hand-painted sky. Ocean waves crash against a sandy shore rhythmically soothing my soul. A white bird drifts above the ocean water. Wind brings hair to tickle my nose. Beauty of nature pulls the breath from my lungs.
Blissful moments precede transformation.
A presence encases the earth.
We are no longer alone.
Nature is hushed.
Wind is no more.
The world stops, paralyzed by sudden silence.
Lights brighten in the sky.
The sun intensifies, loses its shape into surrounding orange, becomes gold.
Gold opens unto something brighter, more vibrant, more lovely.
I grip the railing tighter. Sandstone scrapes my fingers.
In the silence of nothingness — no wind, no waves, no seagulls — I am entranced.
Moving out of the sun comes a warmth, a life force, a man.
Silence is broken by an invisible net of harmonizing voices encasing the earth.
The sun opens in perfect harmony with the voices, escorting the man as he grows larger in the sky.
He is above the water, in the sun and gliding toward me all at once.
Smooth, mellifluous voices float through my spirit.
His arms are held low, scarred palms open, inviting me to join him.
I am overwhelmed by comfort.
I taste a tear on my tongue.
Kneeling, I rise to join Him who calls me unto Him.
We will exit through the sun, the son and I.
Together we will rise as one.
One in sin that is no more.
One in sorrow that lasts no longer.
One in life to live forever.
One in death He suffered for me.
One in forgiveness I do not deserve.
One in redemption I could not obtain.
One in resurrection.
We return home.