Twenty five years ago I had a dream.

In the dream I was in an office.

It was like a newspaper office.

There was an inner office where the boss was. The upper half of the wall surrounding his office was glass, and I could see him.

It was Saddam Hussein.

I knew I worked for him. 

There was a lot of activity going on.

Scene shifted.

Now I am in a flower shop in the town I grew up in.

There is a rumbling and deep groaning.

Holes start opening up in the floor of the shop.

People are falling in.

There is a sense of justice in the air, something being released that has waited a long time for fulfillment.

I know this is happening all over the earth, as I experience it in this flower shop.

Scene shifts.

I am in hell.  The sounds.

The wailing.

The gnashing.

Oh God, it‟s true.

It‟s terrible. The hatred.

The spew. The hissing and popping.

Oh God. Oh God.

I wake up.

Fully alert. Panicked.

Please don‟t let me go there God.

Whatever it takes, please save me from that place.

And I feel a flow

A spiritual wash

Passing over me

Pouring onto me

Washing off The residue

Of the third scene.

And here I am twenty five years later.

Prologue.

I was the 13^th child of my father.

My father believed that if one did not raise and train his children in the way they should go, then when they grew up they would overthrow him.

When my mom was two months pregnant with me she had realized, three years into the marriage, that my dad was insane. Fanatical. A genius.

She went to see a lawyer about how to extricate herself from my dad.

I had a dream about that once.

In the dream I was with a man and my mommy. There was a rabid dog, a German Shepherd, who was trying to hurt us. Mommy went to someone, the man helped her, and she found out how to have the dog removed. 

Then I saw there was an elephant in our garage. After the dog was gone, the man told me I could tell mommy I saw the elephant now. That she would be ok.

My mommy, in that dream, gave me faith that boundaries could keep bad things away.

When I awoke I knew this had been in the womb. 

Boundaries had been imparted to me in a supernatural way through this experience. I have not had to struggle, as many have, in defining the lines to cross or not cross in relationship. 

Love can cross all lines.

I digress.

So in the middle of the night, when my mom was carrying me in her womb, my dad left. He knew his activities could not bear the scrutiny of the law. He took with him the kids he had brought into this particular union. He also took the baby he had with my mom, the sister who was 22 months older than me. 

But he believed what he believed. Rigidly.

So the dog was not entirely gone. 

I was yet trained in his ways, by him and by others. At night, on weekends, after school.

Every so often they would have me for a few days.

And he brought my sister back when I started school, to make sure I would never tell.

He was good friends with a Frenchman, who was an expert in training.

The training was severe. 

One of my sisters is now institutionalized for life.

Another got involved in a religious cult.

A different sister is in prison, last I heard, for selling her twins and killing her husband.

Two of my siblings have lost their first born to violent death.

The carnage goes on and on.

Sometimes the training involved experiencing things that I was not taught in school. In places that do not show up on a world history map. With Beings who are neither demons nor angels.

There are two types of people who understand, intuitively, quantum mechanics and physics. One group is advanced mathematicians. The other group is children. That was used for their advantage.

When I was a child I saw as a child and spoke as a child. I understood as a child. Yet into my adulthood some of those childhood things have remained, as experiences that shaped me. The language has changed. I can now articulate in a way you may relate to…and I scream less than I used to. 

It is my attempt, in these few pages, to relay a specific set of experiences I had when I was young. 

Just a fragment, in the tapestry of my childhood. 

Chew the meat. Spit out the bones.

You will feed those who oppress me with their own flesh. And they will be drunk with their own blood as though it were sweet wine. All flesh shall know that you Lord, are my Savior, my Redeemer, the Mighty One of Israel.

This is a bungee jump for me, Lord. In my spirit, I know this truth. Their lust and their blindness will devour them. And they will still hunger and thirst as they erode. And they will you see you lift me out, and higher, and they will wail, and gnash their teeth. And through that the truth of who YOU are, will be revealed. They will be face to face with what/there their free will has done/led to them. My soul still has pockets that complain about the time or the cost. The pockets that used to disbelieve are healed. The pockets that shouted- it is not enough- have yielded. Remind me of how perfect your time is, again, Lord! Fix my gaze on what I have with you when I consider what it cost me and my family. Tame me with your kindness. Cover me with your Love. Let me be an example of how faithful you are to rescue and restore your people. Let the earth know you can heal even the brokenest of hearts. So that I might love you more fully. You are my all.

Even the captives of the mighty will be taken, you see.

You have shown me, Lord. Continue to show me.

And the prey of the terrible will be set free.

You are truth. You are freedom. The terrible is nothing compared to who you are.

I will contend with those who contend with thee.

You have, You will. You are. My defender, my strong tower, my refuge in times of trouble.

And I will save your children.

The interpreting of this promise has changed on my end. You have expanded me. This promise, the first I heard clearly in the beginning of the memory season, has kept me. You are faithful, and that you have said, so you will do. And even though the process, and the intimacy it yields, has been uppermost in your heart, you have cared for my need for safety, and have ministered to me in the right was at the right time. I will sing this song forever. Some of the verses I have added may change. And my interpretation may again expand. But the truth of you, as your word, becoming one with me, while I am in skin on the earth, will never end. Even if you never again interfaced, the testimony of what you have done so far will make the elders throw down their crowns again and cry holy for eternity. You are my good pleasure. You are my reward. You are worth it. My heart grows in meditating on you. You are life, and the light of me.

The worship leader was singing a spontaneous song. “look upon the beautiful bloodstained face of Jesus” and as is often the case with me in worship, I had begun to see Him. I was getting ready to immerse in His beauty. It is one of my favorite contemplative places.

He had other plans.

I saw his hand. His hand had the hole where he was nailed to the cross. He superimposed his hand on my hand. I reminded him we were supposed to be looking at his face. He didn’t stop but rather impressed physical weight into this experience. The weight of his arm, of his hand upon mine, alerted me that this was something he really wanted me to note.

So I looked at his hand.

His hand upon mine.

Thoughts of suffering came. How hard it is. Yet necessary. I brought a current situation before him. I shared I could not see the redemption yet. It seemed like just pain. I mentioned I did not know how he was able to do it. To go to the cross. all the way. Stay forward. Endure. And remain whole. It seems impossible in this situation I was bringing. I asked for help. His answer was to show me another aspect of the cross.

He took me back to the garden. The love was so tangible. The peace that permeated the atmosphere surely led to good health. It was beautiful. And I sensed father there. It was like His heart supported all life that was there. And suddenly it was broken. A great wrenching opened a door. Yukky things came through. Things began to change. Deterioration, which had never been known, was now a factor in all life. In this experience what gripped me the most was the tremendous explosion of pain. It was Father’s heart. He was weeping. Such anguish I had never felt. Beyond the waves I have known, this pain seemed to have no crescendo, it kept expanding. Breathing was hard. My throat was so tight. The weight of the experience had tangible tension, I could feel heaven pressing me down. The tears began but there was no articulation that could capture the feelings. I was so overwhelmed. His heart hurt because relationship had been broken. For him it was always about family. It wasn’t that he didn’t know it was coming. it wasn’t that he didn’t know what was ahead. It was the great pain of choices being made that violated love. He knew those choices would lead to death. The closest imagery that comes to mind is if you had a son and you saw him in the moment he was committing suicide. And death was not even the hardest part. It was the separation. The break of the spiritual connection that had existed and made life love. Then he spoke.

‘Jesus was willing to identify with my heart there. Only Jesus could fully share that pain.’

And then I am in the place of revelation, and people are weeping because there was no one worthy to open the scroll. And I know, that Jesus’ willingness to share the Father’s heart over broken relationship, was part of what made him worthy to open the scroll.

I am struck with the understanding that all the tears of everyone everywhere, throughout all of the halls of time, would not be enough to share the pain of my Father, that day, in the garden. And Jesus not only identified, but he offered himself, to bring reconciliation to the creature that was too immature to understand, and to ease His Father’s heart.

The revelation still feels too big for me.

He  spoke again. ‘Until you identify with my heart, until you let it be your motivation, there is mixture in your agenda.’

I know the only way to identify with his heart is through his son.

I am broken.

The intensity has gripped me in a way I cannot word.

I had not known, or thought about, his sorrow.

What else can my response be?

Father, let my heart do nothing, without identifying with yours. Cleanse my agenda.

I only want to do what I see you doing. Let your love be my reason.

Teach me how to love.

Selah.

You say- You will raise up your hand to nations, and lift your ensign to peoples. They will bring our sons in their bosoms, and carry our daughters on their backs.

How small we are Lord, to focus on a single life as the sum of what you intend for us. How large you are, oh God, to consider birthrights and offices, giftings and legacies!

Kings shall tend to our children, their queens shall serve as our nurses. They will bow, face down, and lick dust off our feet. And we will know you are the Lord. Those who trust in you will not be shamed.

How wise you are, Father, to highlight authority and royalty. For we are your chosen ones, your matchless Bride. And since there is none like you, there shall also be none like us, as we are raised up in you to be yours forever. I consider the following passage, your first promise to me when the terrors were remembered. Enduring a minute was more than I could bear. The big picture of it was meaningless to me. But surely you make everything beautiful in its time. I am not fully in the big picture yet. But your work in me is perfect, and you are faithful to complete it.

My sons will be quickly regathered. Those that ravaged and ruined me will leave. As I look I will see, you will assemble, you will remove.

I know that this is partly in transition, the final exit of this age. You are warring for my heart to receive the truth of it now. You ask me to believe more than my eyes can see. You ask me to trust you as truth without being bound to my interpretation.

I will don them like jewels and deck myself with them like a Bride.

I believe. help my unbelief. because it so isn’t about you doing it, but about my receiving it. For your glory. recognizing that it is good. And right.

As for my ruined and desolate places, and the land of me laid waste, I will be crowded with settlers and destroyers will stay far from me.

How can I not weep? How can I not be prostate before you? So you have said. So you shall do. I am astonished again. I bear your name on the earth.

The children I thought I had lost will say, as I hear them-its too crowded- make room for me too. In my heart I will wonder-who bore these for me, when I was bereaved and barren? When exile and disdain were all I knew, who taught them the way in which they should go? I was alone, and now they are here.

Those years, Lord. Just choosing each day who I would serve. That craziness, God, of the unthinkable becoming my reality. Few know. All would have crossed the road and passed me by. Not you. Make yourself known through what you have transformed me into, Lord. Shine your light on any agenda or pride that boasts of me, that I might kill it quickly. Be famous through me as I carry your name. For your name. And for your glory.

They are coming from afar-from north and west and Sinim. Shout, heavens! Rejoice, earth! Break into shouting, hills! For the Lord has comforted his people, He is taking back his afflicted ones in love.

I love your gathering Lord. The joy of creation resounds in me! Your kindness and your love, being so readily available, even to those who in their affliction went their own way. Your comfort has made me safe. Your love is my hope.

Zion said you had forsaken her. Forgotten her.

Surely that was what you endured when you cried out from the cross to your dad. Surely you bore it on yourself so that you could be the one who sees every nuance of our heart.

Can a woman forget her baby? Disown the child of her womb? Though she might forget, you will never forget. You have engraved me on the palm of your hand. My walls are ever before you.

You only bring up the pain to apply the comfort, my Lord. I let go of the pain and there you are with my name on your hand again. You are so intimately familiar with all of my ways. You know the foundation of my thought and beliefs and foundations. You know the emotional structure of my heart. You know the fight or flight of my gut. You know how much of heaven’s truth I remember. You know the portal of my heart. You know the sockets of my joints, and the light of my bones. You are altogether trustworthy in your leadership of me. I bow. I rest.

In an hour of favor you will answer me. In a day of salvation you help me. You created me and appointed me for covenant with your people. You are the one who put restoration of the land in my heart. You take the the desolate holdings and allot them anew.

Surely every time I hear you is favor. Surely every time I experience you I become more saved (sozo)- healed, delivered and whole. The desires you have placed in me are your wisdom. You make everything beautiful in its time. I am part of that promise. I am in awe over how you have changed the land of my heart.

You say to the prisoners Go Free. You say to those in darkness Show Yourselves. You create pastures for them along the roads, and even on the bare hills.

Your word, Oh God is a light unto my path. Surely every time I come into alignment with your word I become more free. Every time I risk believing your truth I become more light. And along the way, your food for me is timely and appropriate for where I am on my journey. And I stop, and receive, you become rest for my soul.

I shall not hunger or thirst. Hot wind and sun will not strike me. You, who loves me, will lead me. You will guide me to a spring of water.

Thank you for not leaving me in the small definitions of my human existence in these words. Thank you for knowing my intimate details while being mindful of the larger version of me in eternity. You settle my hunger. You slake my thirst. You protect me from the elementals. You are not dismayed by my fear, or shrinking back. You are not stopped by my misinterpretations or cautions or lies. You know my spring. You know that when the joy has come, the weeping of the night will be seen differently.

You will make all your mountains a road. You will build up your highways.

You create the path to perfect me. Intentionally. In love. Yours is the glory Lord. I will follow where you lead me.

Picking up in verse 5

You formed me from the womb to be your servant, to be a part of the ‘gathering’ into the kingdom. I will be glorious in your eyes, and you shall be my strength.

Being a servant to you is so beautiful and wonderful compared to the servanthood that was placed on me in my youth. You make it so clean and life giving. When you remind me of the big picture an the growing kingdom, I catch hold of the joy that is building and will be completed. I hold it longer than I used to, before I forget. Please keep reminding me. ‘I shall be glorious in your eyes.’ Help me trade what I believe about me for what you declare about me. ‘You are my strength’ is easier, what other strength do I have?

And then you get bigger, and declare you are making me a light, that I will be a part of your salvation plan that includes all the ends of the earth.

There is a word for light in Hebrew- samech, gimel, dalet. It means prostrate, in worship. I stand with Job and David. Such knowledge is too wonderful for me. I am humbled by what you have already done. Help me to not be cliche with this truth, even while it is more expanded than I am. Help me to stay connected to these truths at an emotional heart level, daring to risk believing you and reaching for it.

Because you are redeemer, Holy One, despised of men, abhorred by nations, servant of rulers.

This is true about you. I am your follower.

Sometimes the cry of time in me is loud. WHEN will the kings see and arise? Can we make the princes worship sooner? You are so very faithful. You are the Holy One of Israel. You have chosen me.

Let my wonder at your choosing ease the places in me that are not yet aligned with the perfection of your time.

The Lord has called me from the womb; from the matrix of my mother he has made mention of my name.

This is the frame around my life. This is the big picture within which all the other snapshots and movies are contained. He is my creator. He knew my mom. He knew my calling and what I would be called. He knew the contention over my name that my family would have. He knew I would also despise it until I learned he was the decider of me.

He made my mouth like a sharp sword. In the shadow of his hand he has hidden me. He made me a polished shaft; in his quiver he hid me.

I see it sometimes. When I say things and see them land in people’s hearts. I did not feel hidden. I felt targeted. The polishing that has brought me closer to alignment to him has been hard. Is this what being hid in his quiver feels like? Or is it that I have made it harder when my view is obscured by things other than love?

He calls me his servant. He says I will glorify him. And I will see that my works are in vain. I will see I have spent my strength. To discover. That my real reward is him.

What he has said, he shall do. If he put it in me, it is true. All I know, is that when I am in my right mind, I just have to have more of him. Whatever path takes me there, I will choose.