My Dream

The other night I dreamt I was part of an Easter play, and I was the Christ. I was excited about playing Jesus because, after all, that is definitely a leading role. I figured all I needed to do was walk around in a robe, wear a holy look on my face, glance up towards Heaven now and then, and I’d be a real hit.

However, there were a couple of things I had forgotten. Like the beating and the subsequent crucifixion.

So, after a few minutes of healing everyone and riding a donkey into town, I begin preparing to be placed on the cross. The beating wasn’t too bad, though it wasn’t a walk in the park, either.

Climbing onto the cross was a different story. I had assumed my hands and feet would merely look as though I was nailed to it, but instead I saw the nails about to be hammered into my wrist.

I stopped everything. “Hey! This isn’t supposed to be happening”, I screamed. 

Someone said, “Don’t worry, you’ll rise again.”

I started to relax, then it hit me. I was not the Christ! I wouldn’t rise again. My life couldn’t pay for my sins, let alone everyone else’s.

Then I awoke.

Two things hit me immediately.

1. The love of Christ is beyond comprehension, but not above being experienced. It was His love and faith that kept Him on course. Love for His Father and for us, and His trust in His Father’s Word. Paul said, “Faith, which works by love” (Galatians 5:6).

2. There’s more to “take up your cross daily” than I ever thought. When Jesus said those words, He wasn’t referring to wearing a gold necklace with a shiny cross attached. No, He meant for us, for me, to be so in love with Him that I follow Him completely. Even to the cross, if necessary. To trust Him to resurrect my life, my dreams, my everything.

“But God demonstrates His own love toward us, in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us.” (Romans 5:8 NKJV)
Looking at the cross will never be the same.

Because of my dream.