I’ve debated for a few days about whether or not to write this post.
Dreams can be tricky things, and I’m not sure where I land theologically on how/when/where God uses them. There are many clear examples in Scripture of dreams being spiritually significant, but I hesitate to lend any significance to my own. Still, whether this dream I had was “from God” or a composite of odd neural activity, it has been significant in my heart and life this week, so I want to share it.
It’s edgy. It’s weird. But I think you can handle that. Bear with me, okay?
I dreamed on Sunday night that I was giving my son a bath and my husband was in the room with me. I sensed a dark presence and warned Chris that something was about to get me. I then felt – I know how crazy this sounds – six demons grab a hold of me. The experience was grotesque and I won’t get into it much here, but it was outwardly apparent that I was being spiritually gripped by demonic individuals. In the dream, Chris began calling out the name of Jesus, and I felt one of the demons immediately flee. The other five hung on but in agony as my husband kept praying. I realized that though I wasn’t in control of my body, I was aware of what was happening and could therefore join in his prayers just with my heart and mind. Inside me I began calling out to Jesus for rescue. Within just a few seconds, they all fled.
Super crazy, right? I know. Here’s the thing that makes me share it with you instead of chalk it up to a bad taco before bed: I woke up as soon as the demons in the dream fled, and the sense of relief was huge. I was sweaty and my heart was racing, but there was light and life all through me. In those first few moments of wakefulness, an idea came to light quite strongly. The idea was that the dream was somewhat real–that a spiritual cover had actually been lifted from me, just for a moment, so that I would call out to Jesus and find rescue and refuge in Him; and that there really had been an attack allowed on my spirit, with the clear intent and purpose of being re-covered and sheltered in Him.
Last week I told Karen (the editor here) that I’ve been in a lull lately, hence the lack of writing. We all have spells of dryness spiritually – or at least I think we all do. But I hadn’t been fighting hard this time. I’ve been lazy. I’ve ignored the little calls on my heart to come away with Jesus. Deliberately. And the dream was sort of the fruition of that, I think. The natural end to walking apart from my Jesus. But the attack in the dream didn’t feel like punishment in any way; it felt like an opportunity to wake up to how desperately I need Him as well as how firmly in His grip I am, even when I’m not acting like it. To think of the covering God has on my heart and what I’d go through apart from it is pretty significant.
It’s been easy, the last few days, to slip into conversation with Jesus at any time. There’s a tenderness that I’ve been missing lately. I think the lull is over, or perhaps ending. Whether God sent me that dream or not I don’t know, but at least I can say He has used it. I need Him oh so much. His name is oh so powerful. He is so mighty, so quick to save, and so mine.