He speaks in hurricanes

I have a new recurring dream.

I'm still being chased, but now it's a monstrous hurricane with 12 spiraling tornados stretching across entire cities that is after me. Destruction is clearly imminent, and yet I am still running. Running because I am hopeful that I can escape, yet torn sometimes because I am confronted with leaving my children briefly to secure a safe future for them.

I should back up and mention that I have had recurring dreams (mostly nightmares) since I was 4 years old. I have never known what to make of them. I am deeply skeptical, and dream interpretations fall squarely into my idea of wacky.

Every once in a while my frustration with these dreams oozes out, and last week a dear friend encouraged me to look up the significance of being chased in dreams. I read with uncomfortable clarity that they are a common theme pointing to anxiety and avoidance. I admit it.

I have been avoiding dealing with people.

People who push and crush my boundaries with a capricousness born out of self-importance. I don't mean that I avoid them. I avoid "dealing" with them. I have excused immaturity, padded myself with neglect, and borne increasingly heavier measures of false guilt. I have been a toxic waste dump for some, and still a worn out pack-horse for others.

Is it any wonder I wake up covered in sweat with tensed muscles and feel that I get no rest? Perhaps it isn't far-fetched to think God is trying to speak to me in a dream when I have refused to listen in consciousness. Sigh.

So the new dream. No longer I am hounded by a person, but nature itself has set out to destroy me. This time I was listening. I'm avoiding Churg-Strauss Syndrome.

More pointedly - death.

I have had days of late when faith is a challenge. When I feel that I can't take one more disappointing lab result. When the pressing weight of opening one more hospital bill anchors me below the surface and I can't breathe in God's peace and love. I can't breathe period.

My mind grapples with questions of faith and stumbles around an apologetic mine-field.

Then there are moments when I shake my fist at death and the grave. The stubborness that travels the corridors of my soul bursts out and declares that


even when I can't catch my breath. I trust God when I have promised to pay for bills that I fear will outlive me. I trust God even when His plan for me is painful, and the road He sends me down is dark and lonely.

I trust God knows better than I, even though I am humiliated by my own frailty of mind and body. It feels foolish, but I believe in Heaven. This life has been a great disappointment to me full of pain and many sorrows, but I trust that points to another place my soul was meant to be.

I don't want to ignore the questions that come because I have to face the idea of dying. I want to hear God's voice before He speaks in hurricanes.

Do I believe God can be good and let me suffer? Yes. Though I wish I were somehow too important or perhaps too beneath satan's notice, I was bought at a price. He deserves my devotion and praise regardless of my temporary earthly circumstances.

Is He concerned with me? Does He see my suffering? Isaiah 53, NLT

"He was despised and rejected—
a man of sorrows, acquainted with deepest grief.
We turned our backs on him and looked the other way.
He was despised, and we did not care.

4 Yet it was our weaknesses he carried;
it was our sorrows that weighed him down."

It breaks my heart to think of Good so broken because of me, and yet His taking on my burdens and sin touches the very core of my hurt, it mends the cracks in fibre of my being.

Is it fair that I must fight for my breath through a thick sludge, and take drugs that wreak havoc on my emotions and body? The best I can answer this is that God and I are not equals. My thoughts are too beneath His to judge Him, but I have tried Him. His mercy has been a cool Spring rain, refreshing me. He is more tender than a mother holding her newborn for the first time. Surely His sacrificing His only son (for me) shows His utter commitment to justice far beyind my comprehension.

What of my children? What will happen to them if I die? I feel so surely that NO ONE could love them as deeply, so purely, without any encumberances as I do. Though it pains me, I will trust Him with them. I will acknowledge with my mouth what my heart just doesn't feel, and pray for strength to keep trusting.

The hurricane is coming, but I still have Hope. He may yet heal me, but even if He doesn't I count Him worthy of my trust.

No comments