Georgetownrose

…from glory to glory

Archive for the tag “dreams”

The Kingdom of Heaven in My Dusty Existence…

July 5, 2015: A Multitude of Thoughts…

Just thinking about what it’s like to be sitting here in this little condo in a little burb that is a big-city-wanna-be…this moment on this day in this year in this land on this earth…who I am…where I’ve come from…what I am becoming…part of God’s great plan, bound for a new home in Glory, on the other side of this veil…yet I am living out this great plan in humiliation unto dust…the days not so great…cannot see the greatness of anything but God in this place of exile…I see mercies—great mercies…but the greatness of how anything in my dusty existence is part of any plan of God’s escapes my vision…I must walk by faith and not by sight on this matter…

On this particular day in the plan, I wait for healing…healing for what next, I do not know…I have plenty of ideas about how to use the mercy of relief from this upper respiratory virus in the coming days…but for now, I wait for restoration of strength…in the meantime, I think about my companions whose names I know, whose lives I once shared in times past, whose footsteps on this side of the veil in their own dusty existence part of God’s plan have taken them away from nearness to my life to work out God’s great and good pleasure elsewhere…One travels across the seas to Israel, while waiting on God’s answers to our prayers for her healing from cancer…she knows what it is to live in the humiliation to the dust, walking by faith and not by sight…Great things God does with lives walking humbly before Him, yet what He sees is hidden from us while He works it out…Another continues to wait another day upon many days, months, years for answer to God’s prayer for deliverance of her children from the dangers of life with an abusive, perverted father and grandparents…Her life in this dusty existence, a life of exile from the revealed joys of her promised Home in Glory, is heart break, sorrow, yearning for her children to be saved from corruption and perversion of this world…every day the hours pass with the same demands of keeping what God has granted in order…faithfully stewarding His mercies in exile…walking humbly before Him, yet the greatness of His plan which He sees is hidden from us while He works it out in our dusty existence…While I write this from the resting place of my recliner with the blessings of wireless keyboard synced to my computer across the room, there are mothers and children half a world away in Africa, looking for a safe place to hide from the dangers of wicked, hateful men who seek their lives…these mothers and their children are companions in Christ, too…they must walk by faith and not by sight, trusting that their lives in their dusty existence in this exile are part of God’s great plan…their moments of their days unfold in constant dependence upon the mercies of God, the eyes of the LORD, being awake and aware of their needs in the humiliation to dust that characterizes their life…

If it were not for the sure and certain Presence of the Lord in all these things, and the Joy that always resides and abides in this life in exile, I would be depressed and despaired…but no…the recognition of this great paradox does not depress or discourage…it merely helps me understand and rest more at peace in the care and wisdom and sovereignty of the God who has ordained by His pleasure to make my dusty experience part of His great plan…He sees it all; that I see any of His greatness while I walk in this exile is great joy which triumphs over all humiliations; at last that is enough for me…

July 24, 2015: Meditating on Acts 18.23-21.14…

I am better now; the healing for which I have waited has come and is continuing. I dreamed this morning. What a wondrous dream I dreamed this morning as I lay still meditating on the journeys of my brother in Christ, the Apostle Paul. In all His journeys, humbly in the dust and grime and sorrows and dangers and brutalities of this fallen world, in his earthen vessel, he carried the Treasures of the Kingdom of God—treasures both new and old. Like me, he wrestled with his own reflexes to see anything particularly great about being weak, threatened by dangers, and being called to preach the Lord Jesus Christ. With all the sensory attacks waging war on his mind, he stood as a conqueror in his dusty, sea-soaked, battered existence by focusing on the greatness of the God Who showed Him the grace and mercy and majesty of the Lord Jesus Christ. Just like me, Paul fought the fight against vanity, pride, delusion and despair this side of the veil by walking by faith and not by sight. And in all that is recorded of Paul’s tireless labors, he kept telling the Truth of what is real treasure, real greatness, real glory. In his own dusty existence, Paul boldly declared the only Kingdom that is real to many who languished in poverty, sickness and oppression at the hands of rulers who were blinded by self-worship and greed and acts of violence. In his experiences in chains and dangers, as well as in comforts and hospitalities, Paul persevered to explain the Treasures of the Kingdom of God to many who thought treasure could be found in what they could taste, touch, see and feel—in base and unholy passions and pleasures taken to extremes in foul measures in their dusty existences. Paul declared and explained and argued and contended and lived and died because he knew Whom he believed. He knew the great wonder of being chosen by God to behold the Lord Jesus Christ. In all his dusty existence and educated experience, Paul was born once again as the Holy Spirit quickened his understanding to see Jesus in all the Word of God—treasures both new and old. And because Paul was faithful, I see Him, too. And I know Whom I have believed. I know Him in my dusty existence and understand anew how to use the mercy of the healing I enjoy: to declare repentance toward God and the forgiveness of sins through faith in the Lord Jesus Christ—to perpetuate His Spirit instead of my flesh—to increase His Name and His Kingdom in my dusty existence: because the Kingdom of Heaven is at hand…

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One Man’s Dream, Another Man’s Nightmare…

Medusa WomanAfter a vividly disturbing morning dream, I awoke in a puzzled and troubled state. At first I wrestled with my initial reactions to it. Some people say it’s better to talk about nightmares, to try to understand what might be the stimulating factor in the hope that understanding will help ease any ill effects, and possibly alleviate any future occurrences. But my weaponry was at the ready, and I reached for it…


After a moment or two of prayer, calling on the Lord Jesus, the pervasive imagery faded and my thoughts began to be clear and steady. It occurred to me that many “creative” minds deal in dark and dread-dream-casting. There is a lucrative industry in peddling one’s nightmares, even projecting them on gigantic screens with all the techno magic available to induce over-stimulation of the adrenal responses of countless numbers of morbidly curious horror movie voyeurs… (Why do I need to pay precious pesos for two hours of someone else’s nightmare when I have my own vivid horror “movie” plots in my head? I could be making big bucks…)

I suppose that is one way to make something profitable out of a bad night’s sleep…

Throwing off the covers and swinging my feet over the side of the bed, I picked up my copy of “The Lord of the Rings” complete trilogy in one volume and my reading glasses, slid my mobile into my robe pocket, and shuffled off to the kitchen to heat the morning kettle. As I waited for the whistle, I opened the copy where my bookmark was set, and realized that I was embarking upon another literary nightmare for two dear hobbits trapped in the grisly grip of the Uruk-hai. Did I really need to read this after my own grisly dream…

Re-living Pippin and Merry’s nightmarish predicament and how it all unfolded and resolved, I was rewarded with these words:

As they walked they compared notes, talking lightly in hobbit-fashion of the things that had happened since their capture. No listener would have guessed from their words that they had suffered cruelly, and been in dire peril, going without hope towards torment and death; or that even now, as they knew well, they had little chance of ever finding friend or safety again. –The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers, “The Uruk-Hai,” p. 458, 50th Anniversary One-Volume Edition, J.R.R. Tolkien, ©2004, Harper Collins, reprinted by Houghton Mifflin Harcourt Publishing, New York, NY, USA

There I stopped and remembered the nightmarish predicament of two other dear “halflings”–blessed “halflings,” sanctified by the grace of God in the service the Gospel of the Messiah Jesus:

And they brought them [Paul and Silas] to the magistrates, and said, “These men, being Jews, exceedingly trouble our city; and they teach customs which are not lawful for us, being Romans, to receive or observe.” Then the multitude rose up together against them; and the magistrates tore off their clothes and commanded them to be beaten with rods. And when they had laid many stripes on them, they threw them into prison, commanding the jailer to keep them securely. Having received such a charge, he put them into the inner prison and fastened their feet in the stock. But at midnight Paul and Silas were praying and singing hymns to God, and the prisoners were listening to them. –Acts 16.20-25

Chained to a filthy, stinking, dark dungeon wall, they sang. “No listener would have guessed from their words that they had suffered cruelly, and been in dire peril…”006-paul-silas-prison


I will allow you, if the Holy Spirit so wins the battle for your inclinations, to pick up and read the remainder of that true event in our history on this earth. It is recorded in the book of Acts, Chapter 16, in the Bible, New Testament. No fairy tale there; but a living and true dream unfolding in the grisly grip of a nightmare of sin and corruption…

Dare you spend some time in this truth tale? Will you face the true horror? Or is your appetite for horror only inclined to techno tales and the projected images of some man’s nightmares peddled by him and his companions in a greedy grasp for power over your mind while he picks your pocket?

And my fellow travelers in Messiah Jesus, to you, I bid you compare notes with each other at every opportunity, talking of the things that have happened since Messiah captivated your heart with His love and grace and mercies, calling you into His blessed service in the midst of this true dream unfolding in the grisly grip of a nightmare of sin and corruption…

…the days are evil…be filled with the Spirit, speaking to one another in psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, singing and making melody in your heart to the Lord… –Ephesians 5.16b,18-19

Dreams of Middle Earth: What might have been…

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/fourth-wall/

You get to spend a day inside your favorite movie. Tell us which one it is — and what happens to you while you’re there.

I woke early at the sound of the morning bell; the days are beautiful and fair in Rivendell. Here, except for the wisdom of the ages shared with us in the stories of Arda and Middle-earth, one would think—unwisely so—that the whole world is as fair and beautiful as life is here in Rivendell…

I am Thenidiel daughter of Voronwé and Idhrenniel. I am Elven, and today in Rivendell a council is convening within the hour. My father and my mother will attend as witnesses to the discussions and decisions. My father Voronwé has thought it wise that I should listen and observe, for this council will be like no other ever called by my elders. This will be a very grave and secret council—a council which will decide a mission and consider its emissaries. Their charge will be to destroy something of immeasurable and terrible power over every living soul in Middle-earth…

Of my Elven race officiating and deliberating at the council were Elrond, Erestor and Glorfindel, wise staff of Elrond’s house; Legolas, son of King Thranduil of Mirkwood, and Galdor messenger of Cirdan. The envoys among men were two: Boromir son of Denethor, steward of Gondor, and Aragorn known to men and Halflings as Strider of the Rangers. Of the Dwarves present were Gloin, seeking the whereabouts of his brother Balin who had been in the mines of Moria; and Gimli, warrior son of Gloin. Gandalf the wise of the Maiar informed all present of the danger to Middle-earth in Saruman’s treachery. Ambassadors of the Halflings of The Shire were Bilbo Baggins and his adopted nephew Frodo Baggins. I saw another there, crouching in the shadows, observing all that was undertaken in the council. My soul learned immediately that his heart was burdened for the welfare of another. I followed his gaze and saw that, from his shadowy corner, it was fixed on the Halfling with shining eyes, dark of hair and fair of countenance. As my own gaze rested upon him, Master Frodo Baggins, I was immediately drawn to him; for he carries a burden so great I can feel it in my own being. He looked up for a moment, seeming to know that the eyes and the heart of someone were watching vigilantly, standing guard for him. When he noticed me standing quietly watching all the renowned guests being welcomed by Elrond and his court, I saw into the depths of his soul and all his longings. His eyes did not drift away from my gaze; we were locked in an ethereal embrace for what seemed an eternity. I saw his heart and shared mine with him for that one moment, both of us sealing a covenant to meet again before the company was dispatched to the duties ordained by the council…

 I listened and watched the story unfold before me, although it seemed as if I had already known it from long ago. I felt the weight of the fear of the power of this object should it be used in the hands of the adversaries of Eru Iluvatar. That was the ancient rebellion of ages past, mocking Iluvatar’s beauty and the lyrical music of His Ainur. One must go and destroy the power of the adversary Morgoth and his vassal Sauron. That one must bear the terrible burden of the Ring to the rim of hell, the Mount of Doom; there he must part with the terrible thing with all its temptations to be subject to its power, and resisting all, must cast it into the fires of Mount Doom to be consumed by the very fires and darkness from which it was created. Other valiant Men and Elves of ages past were entrusted with this task and were eaten alive by the lure of the powers they thought they would possess in the keeping of this fragment of hate and blasphemy against Eru Iluvatar. In one age, after the ring was long forgotten, a Halfling, Deagol by name, who loved to fish in the rivers of the Shire, captured it by accident on the end of his fishing line. His friend Smeagol was jealous for the shiny trinket, and in his jealousy murdered Deagol, hid his body, and doted upon the precious thing, discovering its powers to make him seem superior to all around him. It ate him alive, driving him into the depths of the earth to shelter it and guard it from being taken from him, only earning for himself the name of Gollum; for Smeagol had become a gulping, grasping creature doomed to a deviant and tortured life of wicked treachery, always fighting down the once noble thread from which he was originally woven. Master Bilbo Baggins had seized the thing from Gollum’s grasp in his encounter with him in the caves on the way to Erebor. Bilbo’s part in that mission was to help the Dwarves regain their rightful home and treasures taken from them by the dragon Smaug when he destroyed Laketown and captured Erebor for his own malevolent residence.

Hours passed as I waited to see how the council would rule. Finally, all agreed that one must go, but the question remained, “Who will go?” When the midday bell rang for the meal, the fair one with raven hair and shining eyes spoke, saying, “I will go.” It was then I knew he must have a helper, someone who would give him hope and courage to live when all the evil of Mordor stalked him to prevent his chosen task. How would I persuade my father to give my hand to Frodo in marriage when he appeared to be a mere Halfling and beneath the Elven race? I have lived long in Rivendell in this world of Middle-earth, but never have I seen one which so captivates my own soul. He appears young and yet has a bearing as old as Rivendell itself. I knew before the council did that his companion in the shadows would go with him to bear Frodo up when his body weakens from the weight of the burden and the assaults contrived against him by the emissaries of Sauron. But he would need the songs of truth and faith to resonate in his mind and heart—songs my soul entwined with his would sing to him across the distances on the cold stoney mountain passages, in the deep tangles of the woods, across the open plains under the predatory gaze of the eye of Sauron and his minions. He must have a home for his soul where it may rest and draw him back from the contest which will restore peace to the world of Middle earth. I want to be that home for his soul; it is to this hour I was born. I was to learn very soon how inseparable two souls can make a mark on the events in the world…

 At the afternoon meal, he came to talk with me, the one whose soul now was entwined with mine. We needed no long words, for every bit of our lives seemed knowable to one another without them. He knew my own desire and shared it, but with hesitation to bind me to the mortal life and then to wait while he fulfilled the duty he had vowed. As I gazed steadily and passionately into his shining eyes, I told him that the matter of my mortality is mine to decide, knowing completely its blessings and its consequences. I explained to him in earnest that for me waiting would not be as it would be for a Halfling wife. I would tell this to my father and my mother. I would tell them that my heart and my soul would always be following him, knowing things of his trials which only an Elven wife could know. I would persuade them that my songs of healing would come to Frodo in times of his deepest trouble, and still my own life would be safe from the eye of Sauron. These would be dreams no palantir, no seeing stone, could invade or snatch away from us…these would be silver threads of truth and faith and undying love, keeping Frodo’s heart safe from deception and despair…and he, with Samwise, would prevail; he would come home…we would face life in Middle-earth inseparably. We would give our dear ones another generation of offspring who know truth and honor and love. I would persuade my mother and my father to neither deny us this purpose nor deny themselves the joy of its fulfillment…

 As quickly as our meeting began it was over. Frodo’s heart was full of longing, and he vowed another vow. He took my hand in his and in his steady, shining eyes I saw the burden which he carried lift. His countenance shown as brightly and lovely as any Elven son. Almost breathlessly, and full of tenderness, he whispered that he would take me as his wife if I persuaded my mother and my father of the blessing our union would bring…

 We looked up and saw the thoughtful Gandalf sitting across the courtyard from us; Samwise was nearby, having been exposed as a secret observer to the council, driven by his friendship with Frodo to learn of the matters which would touch his friend’s life. Both were watching with a mixture of curiosity and some wonderment. My own mission had now begun; at the recess of this council, I would be seeking a council with my elders, a Maiar and a Halfling to cast the vision shared by Frodo, the valiant Halfling and an Elven daughter of wisdom and healing…

…An excursion into “The Fellowship of The Ring”

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