Next month I will celebrate 22 years as a Christian. Each Good Friday has always carried with it a heaviness. It’s as if a melancholic air covers the Body of Christ (His church) as we remember and honor Jesus specifically for the crucifixion.
As believers, we can and should celebrate His resurrection every day. That said, many times Christians are uncomfortable with spending time thinking about the crucifixion; the specifics of the events and specifically how it applies personally. I honestly don’t blame them. It’s incredibly difficult to consider the depth of horror our Beloved, our Savior, experienced. Yet, that is what Good Friday invites us to do; remember, take it personally, and allow His love to speak to us through His sacrifice.
First I am going to share the dream by itself. Then after that I will share what it means to me. The reason I am separating them is that sometimes dreams are like artwork, people can extract a wide variety, and all kinds of personal meaning from them. I think that is totally cool. So, please read the dream, ponder it if you want and gather your own thoughts on it. Then read my thoughts after the second section divider.
In my dream I am sitting on my Great Granny’s porch. The porch was built by her father, my Great Great Grandfather, by hand. However, in the dream it had been carefully preserved, modified, expanded and updated. However, I knew that it had always been lovingly maintained/remodeled by The Owner. The house was simply beautiful, warm, welcoming. It actually looked like it had been decorated by one of my best friends. It was again, beautiful.
This kid is cute. I mean … just cute as a button. His name is Jude. He has sandy blond hair and he loves worship time.
Jude and his parents always sat up front at church because Jude loves to dance around or jump in place. Of course, as little boys are want to do, he likes to run around a bit too. Jude has also been seen with his toy guitar in tow to play along with the band on a few occasions.
I told you … the kid is cute!
The cool thing about Jude is he likes to mix it up … he’s a squirmer. Tina is very good at giving Jude some freedom but is quite the Jude wrangler sometimes. She loves her son. You can tell.
Back in the day I used to sneak out of the house and/or call in sick to work to go hang out at the gay bars. I started going to them when I was seventeen. Initially the euphoria and my naiveté mixed very powerfully. I thought I had finally found a refuge for my aching heart.
As any traumatized slightly neurotic seventeen year old looking for any semblance of escape would be prone to do.
It wasn’t legal for me to be in the bars, even way back then. They had raised the drinking age a couple of years before I turned 18. Yes, it used to be lower than 21. Back then I think people had to have strong drink in order to put up with all the dinosaurs and lack of electricity. ::: grin :::
Yesterday I started on a trail of reading through internet articles and blog posts from the religious activist community. One thing I repeatedly noticed is that there is a new talking point echoing throughout their chamber. The claim is that it is heretical to preach the false gospel of “nice”. I ran into more than a few articles about how Jesus wasn’t a “nice” savior. While many words were dispensed, common arguments were used to prove their theological point. They reminded us that He ran the money changers out of the temple (with a whip no less!), was an absolutist (He is the only way to the Father), and belief in Him turned family members against each other.