Sweet dreams are made of these.

I should be getting ready for church. Sitting on my heating pad writing this is keeping me from it though. Being stressless is surprisingly easy.

I wrote this for our church group the other day:

I’ve always wanted God to come to me in a dream. When I was little, I remember reading my King James Bible (you know, the blue one with the picture of Jesus reading to the kids on the front) praying for an angel of the Lord to “cometh” to me in a dream and “sayeth” something important. I always run to my Bible after I have a weird dream, hoping that I missed a passage about Him coming to plain people. The other night, I dreamed I was a particular young blond country singer with a talent for relating to every teenage girl. I was signing autographs when I saw the most beautiful person in the back. I lost him in the crowd of heart-broken girls who only wished to be fearlessly dragged head-first somewhere. The rest of my dream was spent desperately trying to find this person. (It was one of those journey dreams with all the crazy twists and turns) When I did, he turned out to be a servant for a rich man. The last thing I remember was the look on the rich man’s face as I fell at the feet of his servant boy.

Now, I don’t really think this was God coming to me, however, I do believe there’s a lesson. The servant I was seeking has to be Jesus. It just has to be. Nobody else could ever be that beautiful. I constantly think of him as a savior, friend, or prince, but forget that he knelt down and washed the disciples’ feet. My dream was a reminder that we are called to be imitators of Christ and that’s going to include getting down, getting dirty and washing some feet. He never promised us a fairy tale on earth. We weren’t promised riches and Prince Charmings. We are, however, promised an eternity with him and that’s going to be better than any of my dreams.

Grace and Peace,

jg