This isn't some amazing writing piece that will knock your socks off or anything like that. It's just a true, personal experience that I had just two nights ago that I had to write down. It's fresh and I still need to edit it some. I'd call it more of a 'Journal', not an amazing story that'll make you think I should be an author some day. It's not like that. The reason I'm posting this here is not for critique or praise or to shove down your throats my beliefs. I think that if God put me in this situation and brought me this experience, I have to show people the truth. Hopefully, if I see positive comments (Or no comments at all - either way.), it'll bring more boldness to myself to tell people in person. I won't mind critiques if it's constructive, but I can honestly say this isn't a writing piece that I want to put out there and show the world. I'm reluctantly putting it here in a way to be obedient. Again, hopefully this will boost any bravery that I have to speak the truth in person and not just in a writing forum.
I've seen an incident or two around Res about having religion being 'shoved down others throat's'. I can promise you first off that Christianity isn't a religion. If you have questions about that piece, I would gladly talk to you about it if you rmail me. I would never miss an opportunity to witness to someone. Secondly, I'm not shoving this down your throat. It's just a food for thought post. Something that happened to me that I would gladly share here. Thank you for reading. c:
My night started out as any other night would. I was lying on my bed, being the imperfect Christian that I was and avoiding the devotion book and bible right above me in the cabinet on my bed and instead watching an episode of The King of Queens. For some reason, I was having
trouble falling asleep.
I lay on my bed, both hands behind my head in a relaxed position, finally starting to doze out. Out of nowhere, I remember thinking, why does God even care? Is He even real? Does he love me? The typical questions that everyone faces – even people that aren’t Christians - clouded my mind. This might sound a bit cliché, and you might think I’m lying, but I can promise you I’m not. Right as I was about to close my eyes, a light came from my ceiling, shining so bright I couldn’t even open my eyes to slits. I clenched them tight, a fear taking hold in my body that made me freeze in my position. It didn’t take long to understand what this light was; to understand that God was presenting himself to me. I was shaking, I couldn’t breathe. I can’t remember what else I did or how I reacted because all I can remember is thinking that God was actually in my room.
That, of course, and the fact that I was scared to death.
There was a tightening in my chest but I don’t think it was from fear anymore. I think I just couldn’t handle the shame, my human flesh couldn’t handle his awesomeness and glory. I believe I was crying, but it’s hard to remember what I was doing when I was so focused on the light above me, shining down on my skin like I was sunbathing. Instead of sunbathing, though, I was just basking in the glory of my Savior. And, right after thinking, Will He speak to me? Will I hear the voice of God?
I jolted awake, breathing heavily and shaking. I felt like I was on a sugar high and it took me a couple moments to realize it was all just a dream; from the King of Queens show still being on my TV., to God’s glory blinding my eyes. It was just a dream. I remember wrapping myself in my covers, telling myself that what really just happened wasn’t real. It was easy to believe myself when I was half asleep; it’s completely different when I woke up the next morning with a renewed heart already replacing my old one before I even realized it.
When I woke up the next morning, I hesitantly and uncertainly looking up at my ceiling where the light had shown last night. I had sighed of relief as I saw a normal, no light shining ceiling, literally putting a hand to my forehead as if I was face palming myself for believing it really happened. The dream was only a couple seconds, but it was already affecting me.
The second I got up from my bed, the realization that it was a dream was still eating at my mind. If it was a dream, was it still really God? I couldn’t get the dream out of mind, as I tried to remember every detail that I could. All I could think of was the brightness shining down on me, as I dumbly closed my eyes in fear and shame, then the fear being replaced with a unexplainable peace. I tried shaking the dream from my mind as I made myself tea. I gulped it down as though I could gulp down the dream and never remember it again. I think I still had a little bit of fear at the thought of God really showing himself to me. Out of all the good Christians I could think of, He chose me. Someone who has avoided a devotion for months, hates waking up to go to church every Sunday, and finding the bible confusing and a bore. That only brought more questions.
It was when I came back into my bedroom that tears fell down my face, uncontrollably. It was then that I understood. God had really shown up in my dream, showing me He was real. He understood my doubts of Him from the start. Showing me that whatever sins I do, whatever I’ve done, whatever I will do… He loved me. Everyone was asleep upstairs, and I took a mere second to thank God I moved downstairs in the ba.sement so I could weep without worry that I’d waken my family. I sat down on my computer chair, not being able to control myself enough to walk to my bed. I hid my face in my shirt, the realization of God’s love coming back to my heart as I cried. It was as though I could still feel God – the Holy Spirit, really. - around my room, wrapping around me in comfort. Oddly enough, after all of this, I was still having a nagging feeling that the dream was just that – a dream with no meaning.
Once finally finding control of myself, I wiped my tear stained cheeks and turned on my computer, thinking if I went on the internet and put my mind in Facebook or role playing, I could somehow forget it ever happened and not have to think about it anymore. The fact that out of all the people that live for him, He chose a insignificant 'doubtful of Him' teenager that hasn’t had a true ‘God Time’ with him in a very long time, made me kind of wary of thinking the dream was real. Why would he choose me out of all the Christians in my life that would be much more worthy of His shining glory? I could think of ten people right now who were much more worthy to be in such an awesome presence, even if only for a couple mere seconds.
By the time I turned on the computer, something stopped me. Okay, so if the dream was from God, why would I waste my time being on the computer when I could do something about it? Why would I waste my summer role playing (Yes, this was the reason I’m quitting, to anyone who’s reading who is also my role playing buddies.) when I could tell the world about the true Savior? When I could write about Him? If I was going to write - or role play - I'd have to find a way to do that while glorifying Him with everything I do. Isn't that what we are supposed to do? Everything we do, we shall glorify Him.
My questions in my dream were answered, God showed himself to me. He had a purpose for doing that, and forgetting about the dream like I wished I could, wouldn’t help any. It took me later on to realize the true reason I didn’t want to remember the dream. Remembering, made it reality. And reality meant I had to take a leap of faith – of what little faith I had – and surrender myself to him.
I put my computer on sleep and went to my bed. Taking out the devotion book I’ve had for 3 years now when it’s supposed to be a 365 days devotion book and my bible, I put my eyes on the page – only to start crying again. This time I don’t really know why. It took about ten minutes and several tissues before I finally calmed down.
Only to start crying again as I looked at the page.
By this time, I’m laughing to myself; wondering why something that could have been just some dream that God had nothing to do with affects me so. I finally finished my devotion after maybe an hour process, when it says right on the front of the book, ‘5 minute devotions’. I guess you can tell by now that I kept crying the whole time, weeping at finally understanding that God’s presence really was in my room that night and that He cared and loved me so. It was too much to take in without getting emotional.
Obviously, God isn’t up in some high place in heaven. He’s within us, once we ask him to come into our life. So, even though I don’t see some shining light every day, God is always with us. Always around us. It was just seeing that light and knowing that God showed Himself to me just… Astounds me in ways I can’t really describe. Out of all the people… Me?
There still is a nagging part of me as I write this that says it’s pointless to think about. It’s telling me that it was just a dream that I wished actually happened but really didn’t. Maybe I saw it in a movie and my mind just brought it back to me while I was sleeping. But, if that were the truth, why did I hide myself under the covers after quitting trying to focus on the devotion, and tell God I was sorry? Why did I feel compelled to tell him I surrender myself? Why did I give my all to Him? Why do I keep crying, even as I write this, if it was just some stupid dream?
I felt His peace once I hid myself in the covers, and surrendered. Once I gave my heart to Him, He gave me His peace that I could never find anywhere else. He gave me His love, His eternal, beautiful love. And a mercy that flows with every breath He takes. Just one little dream that seemed to only last a few seconds changed my life, and it might just change others too.
I didn’t want to tell anyone about this. And I definitely don’t plan on talking about it to people in person. But I don’t think God gave me that experience to keep it a secret between me and Him – no matter how great that sounds to me. I think when He does things like this, we’re supposed to tell the world; not to glorify me and say how I felt His presence. But to glorify Him and tell the world that He does live. That, He has love and mercy and grace not just for me, but for you to! All you have to do is reach out and pray. Praying is the same as talking to a friend. Talk to Jesus like a friend, because that’s what He is. Our counselor, our defender, our friend. Our Savior. Not a religion. So, with reluctance, I’m typing this here, finding a new peace with a renewed heart. Hopefully I’ll find the guts to speak of it in person, someday. With only God’s strength, that is.
P.S.
If you see any "His", Him", or other pronouns referring to God that I missed, please let me know. c: Also any typos... All of that, feel free to let me know. c:
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