Monday, December 15, 2014

Joy Comes in the Morning

December 14, 2014

Nightmares are scary business. Even when they are so bizarre as to be obviously unreal, they have the ability to put us into a cold sweat. I don't have them often, and fortunately, when I do, unless I write them down immediately upon awakening, I don't remember them. In my entire life, I can only recall a few dreams, and most of those were ones I am sure were messages from God. There were two that when I awoke from them, I immediately knew exactly what was going on; what God was telling me. The Scriptures tell us that in the latter days, "young men will see visions, and old men dream dreams." I guess we know where God thinks I belong on the scale of life. Problem is, even my benign dreams are weird. I've said many times that if our dreams are reflections of the inner workings of our subconscious minds, the people I pastored for many years would have petitioned many times over to have me removed on grounds of mental disturbance.

I've talked with veterans who fifty years after their wartime service still find themselves tossing and turning in the throes of a war-related nightmare. PTSD is a constant vigilante, pursuing them relentlessly day and night, conjuring images and emotions too terrible to remember. I am grateful to have been spared the experiences that spawn such dreams. Nonetheless, nightmares are no fun, no matter who has them or how they originate.

Last night, I had one of those dreams. It wasn't quite a nightmare; I didn't wake thrashing from it, but I did awake with a foreboding sense of dread. It was as if the old melancholy that plagued me for years had come back with a vengeance to wreak its emotional and spiritual havoc upon me. There is however, good news in all this. It was only a dream. Some people live their nightmares every day, facing abuse, neglect, disease, pain, and suffering. Some drag themselves from day to day in the throes of grief so acute they can literally feel it gnawing away inside. I awoke from a dream that remained only a dream. Instead of allowing it to poison my day, as we worshipped this morning, I laid it before God in prayer, thanking him for the blessing of a life where dreams are worse than reality, knowing that for many, it is the other way around. The day has been busy with worship, a community dinner, two home visits, a benefit for a little boy battling leukemia, and soon, the children's Christmas program. For countless people, that is a dream world they would gladly exchange for the one they live. For me, I only have to embrace it, and I do, with deep gratitude even when the melancholy holds on for dear life. Life is exactly what I refuse to give it, knowing that in the morning, it will have weakened as the Scripture says, "Weeping endures for the night; joy comes in the morning." (Psalm 30:5)

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