Jesus Has Dreams, Too

Secular / Sacred / Spirit

What is secular? Traditionally this word has been used to denote the different between traditional work and ministerial work.  I'm sure we all draw these lines differently in our head, some consciously and some unconsciously.  Is your time at church on Sunday sacred, and everything else secular?  If you sell cars, is that a secular job? What if you work for a non-profit that feeds the homeless? Is that secular if it is run by a non-religious organization and sacred if it is run by a church?

Secular doesn't necessarily mean evil, just not unto glory of God. This is a helpful framework because it broadens the horizons of how glory can be expressed. God's glory can be revealed through art, literature, technology, civilization, and all other means yet to be discovered.  But His glory in not always revealed in these things.

I believe this is a helpful framework for broadly understanding how the spirit realm interacts with all these aspects of creation and how each of them can be secular or sacred.  But how do we fit into all this. What does it mean to be a spirit?

A Dream and a Garden

One Saturday afternoon I was out in front of my house, watching my kids ride their bikes in circles in the driveway.  I was just thinking about going inside to get a drink of water when I turned and saw Jesus at the end of my driveway.

He was more than twenty feet tall, clothed in robes of layered purple and gold adorned with layers of precious metals and gems. His head and face were so bright that it made the sun look dim. My knees shook and I felt incredibly small. The authority that resonated from Him was overwhelming, but I could also feel kindness woven between the emanating waves of power.  I felt a deeper understanding of what it meant for Him to be both the lion and the lamb.

It was then that I noticed that there was something behind Him, something tall and rectangular. Tall black rows of drawers, so tall that they blocked out the sun, sat in perfectly spaced rows that ran all the way up and down the street in front of my house. Each had dozens of large square drawers, about the same size of those found in a file cabinet.  It looked like the road in front of my house had suddenly been turned into the records department in an old office building or library.

"What is this?" I asked out loud. 

"It is a graveyard," His voice shook my bones and half then together at the same time.

"Why is it here?"

"It is a graveyard of dreams."

I looked down the road in both directions, the rows of tall drawers went as far as I could see both ways, each higher than the nearby trees. Confused at why thousands of dead dreams would be in a small suburban neighborhood on the south side of Atlanta, I asked again, "Why is it here?"

"This graveyard covers the entire earth. There is nowhere that it is not."

I looked back and saw rows of identical drawers across my back yard, into the forest behind my house, and beyond.  I turned back to look at Jesus and suddenly saw rows of drawers on either side of me, as well as either side of Him. We were in the endless maze of tall drawers.

Why would people's dreams be piled up in drawers? Why would there be so many? I waited and felt for the rhythm again, then a thought occurred to me.

"Whose dreams are these?"  I felt Him smile, though I still could not see His face clearly,

"They are mine."

As He spoke, a series of images flashed through my mind. I saw flashes of other towns, cities, and nations.  I saw the rows of shelves and drawers covering every part of every one of them. There was no place on Earth that God did not have a dream for. Every city, every home, every part of every society in every country across every part of the world, He had dreams for them all.

I turned to Jesus, and He answered my question before it left my lips, "Not all of my dreams come true."

He reached down to one of the low shelves and pulled open one of the glided drawers, just a few inches.  I approached the open drawer and was shocked to see feet inside. I titled my head to look a little deeper into the drawer. There was a person, lying on their back

"All of my dreams are fulfilled through my children." He said.  

I saw every hurt, every pain, and every sorrow that had ever occurred on the earth and the son or daughter of God who was sent to be His answer.

I saw the plans and plots of the enemy, the culmination of his plans for culture, society and the people within them. Every one of them dried to a husk and crumbled to ash, powerless in the face of God's unending light.  I watched for hours. The light never stopped. I watched for days. The light never stopped. 

Time went by.  I blinked, then Jesus was standing in front of me. "Is this what is going to happen? Is this what could happen? Your light released through Your people, transforming the world?"

He smiled. "It is already happening."

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