The Voice

Last December I had this very vivid dream and I wanted to remember it so I wrote it down in my journal the next morning. You can tell I was writing fast because I could barely make out some of the words! This morning I recalled some of the images from this in my mind so I went to find it in my journal. It's a little personal for me to share this but I also feel it's important and that God wants me to. I hope you hear the Voice in my words.

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The Voice

Perched on a rock, my eyes dart back and forth as I breathe rapid, short breaths.

There are nothing but miles of tall, dry grass and I am alone.

I want to think I am here against my will but the longer I sit in solitude I realize I chose this isolation; fooling myself all along. Peering into the sun I shade my eyes and I feel something pulling me closer to that light, to freedom. I entertain the idea of complete surrender to it and for a moment, I enjoy it. But as enticing as it was it was equally terrifying so I quickly dismiss the option and succumb to the familiar feelings of guilt, shame and fear. 

Yes, "this is where you belong," I hear a voice whisper. And I agree with him.

In the distance there is another voice. It is faint and far off but unmistakable. But I am distracted by my parched lips and the dusty, rocky earth on which I sit. No sign of water anywhere. 

My hands are dry, my lips are cracked and I convince myself that this is my lot. I pick at my wounds, and remember all the wrongs done to me, careful not to let myself forget they're there. I enjoy the misery of the self-inflicted torture. But that voice keeps calling out.

How to I begin?

My feet are like anchors, unable and mostly unwilling to move from my own personal hell. Where would I go? There is no way out. I cannot see it. I cannot find it so I stop trying and the darkness grins. My ears start to deceive me as I hear thrushing. It's rhythmic like cutting and it's distracting me from my misery.  My mind tries to make sense of it, jumping to conclusions. 

That VOICE.

It's deep and strong and he's calling out MY name. The thrashing continues as the Voice gets louder and my heart begins to speed up and I sense fear. But it's not MY fear. To my left I see the Darkness begin to cower, to shrink. To retreat. To loosen the grip on me. I start to breathe again. But he moves smoothly and elegantly toward me in an effort to regain my full attention as he's become insecure about where my loyalty lies. My gaze turns right as the Voice is ever present and clear, shouting my name, demanding my attention. The tall, dry grass parts and He emerges. 

His eyes meet mine. 

Darkness flees.

He is here.

He is breathing heavily, sweat dripping from His brow. His knuckles are bloody and covered in dirt. The blue of his eyes sparkle and remind me of my grandfather's and I cannot look away. They're as deep as the ocean and the color of Grace. When He looks at me I feel exposed but to my suprise, my shame melts away. Once again, He says my name and I come undone.

My FATHER has found me.

That voice, HIS voice. I have heard it all my life. He had been near, pursuing my heart. My loyalty. It was I who needed to simply stop running and welcome Mercy. To turn around and SEE Him and to let his piercing love melt away my pain. He takes my hand with his right, his thrashing weapon with his left and leads me confidently as if I were like royalty down a path between the dry grass that he cut just for me. The journey was long and my feet slipped and I stumbled often. But His grip on my hand was tight and He caught me. The grass parted way to green pasture and springs of clear, fresh water. I drank deeply, my lifelong thirst quenched. He smiled.

My attention went back to that dry, dusty rock on which I had been sitting just hours ago. There was a sense of urgency rising up in my spirit. I was consumed with the souls who had given up and sat down in the dirt, succumbing to hopelessness. I looked to my Father and we locked eyes, knowingly and in agreement. He began to smile. His Grace eyes twinkled. 

"Yes," he said. "Let's go find the others."

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This was the end of my dream but in my journal I wrote, "How can I stay here in this lush, green pasture with peace and wholeness knowing there are others who are waiting to hear that HE knows their name, too?" This is one reason I share my faith journey. When you are touched by THE living God you simply cannot keep it to yourself. I want to share and risk being judged or hated more than I want to keep to myself and risk missing an opportunity to point someone in the direction where they might catch a whisper of His voice calling their names!

- Andree Johnson