Dream 42
I am in a dark prison. A man sits chained to a wall, unable to move much. He is thin and exhausted and is trying to choke himself to death by swallowing his tongue, which he is not getting right.
Builder stands beside me waiting for me to adjust to these surroundings and then speaks:
Builder:
“This prison is hopelessness and depression. The chains are debt. This man is a slave to mammon, placed here by the servants of mammon.”
Me:
“He owes someone very powerful a lot of money?”
Builder:
“Mammon is not money; mammon is the realm of ‘never enough’.
In the spirit does mammon choke to death millions of slaves. For on earth has the Father provided such an abundance of everything that debt should not exist. But man has bowed before the deceiver and invented ways to enslave man. Walking in unforgiveness and lending instead of giving do they hold one another in such living hell that the very soul is chained in dark places, crying out to God for death.
Shaming and humiliating one another publicly for sin and financial debt. Locking one another into contracts for things that should be given freely. Truly does mankind bow to the god of this world and sacrifice their very children upon his many altars.
A demon walks into the cell and stands before the chained man.
Demon:
“You are worthless, you want to die, you will never get out of this, God does not care because there is not God.”
The chained man repeats what he hears:
“I am worthless, I want to die, I’ll never get out of this, God does not care about me because there is no God.”
He starts weeping in hopeless frustration and begins to curse God for not caring about him and leaving him in this situation.
The demon laughs at him and walks to another cell somewhere down the passage.
Builder:
“You must note what you see here son of sorrow. Love has been turned into a currency that can be withheld and released on certain conditions. This man is here because his mentor rejected him. His spirit bought the lie that he needs to become what the mentor wants him to become. In the secular world they call themselves, coaches, mentors and bosses. In the Christian world they call themselves such things as spiritual fathers and weigh their ‘spiritual sons’ down with impossible weights and burdens. There I only one Father and his love is unconditional.
If a man calls himself a spiritual father, he is responsible for the one he calls his spiritual son as a father is responsible for a physical child. The weight is on the father, not the child. For what child, needing father, has the maturity to be all that an unjust father requires? That father is responsible for provision, restoration and unconditional love.”
Me:
“After the last few dreams, I don’t quite think the Father’s love is unconditional. He sends you to hell if you don’t do what he commands you to do. It does not surprise me that his servants copy his behavior.
I have suffered much of this rejection and imprisonment in my life and if you do not conform to their systems, you are slandered and ejected from their kingdoms. Sounds a lot like the kingdom of heaven to me. I have to be honest, I don’t much like the kingdom of heaven or these kingdoms of man. Both advertise love but offer only obedience at the end of a gun called rejection. ‘Submit or we reject you’.
The vision of hell has left me concerned about the heart of this loving kingdom. I was depressed and my hatred was caused by these fake fathers. Then my hatred, which was caused by these people in the first place, was used as the justification for my eternal damnation. Quite honestly I am starting to wish that these dreams would stop and that I could forget about God, his servants, the Angels, the demons and all of mankind. I just wish to sleep and leave you all to your ego battles and your fake free will campaign. There is no choice, it is all an illusion. Children have no choice and somehow in this sick universe with this loving Father it is ok for them to be aborted, starved to death, grow up in hellish poverty, get teased at school if their genetics are slightly inferior and forced to become what the ‘cool’ kids deem acceptable. All the while these pastors and ‘spiritual fathers’ are driving expensive cars, wearing expensive suits, watches, private jets and reject those who have anything to say about this stuff.
You all break my heart equally. I don’t see any difference between the kingdom of mammon and the kingdom of heaven. The currencies are different but the rejection is the same.
This planet needs another asteroid.”
I walk into the jail cell and try to rip the man’s chain out of the wall. He looks at me with such hopelessness that I begin to weep with frustration and futilely rip at the chains with even greater exertion. Blood starts to run from my hands as my skin rips but I don’t care. I begin to scream and weep at the same time.
Me:
“WHY? WHY! WHY? Why does God not just come in here and rip these chains out of this accursed wall if he loves this man so much?”
Builder says nothing, patiently waiting for me to say everything that is in my heart.
I start weeping and leave the chains.
I sit beside the chained man and lay my hand upon his shoulder, tears streaming down my face.
Me:
“I can’t do anything for you. I can’t get you out of this. All I can tell you is that I love you and I care for you and I would take your place in an instant if it meant your freedom.”
I shout down the passage:
Me:
“HEY DEMON, COME HERE. TAKE ME AND SET THIS MAN FREE.”
There is no answer so I run down the passage and find the demon a few rooms down. He turns as I come into the room.
Demon:
“This is interesting.”
Me:
“Let me take that man back there’s place. I think he has had enough. What does it matter to you who you have under your control?”
Demon:
“We would happily oblige you courier. There is only one small challenge. The man in that room is you.”
The revelation hits me and I open my eyes to look at the walls of my room and the chains on my arms. My tongue is raw from trying to bite it so that I may choke upon it or the blood that flows from it.
Builder stand in front of me.
Me:
“The kingdom is all huh? I curse you and your kingdom.”
I try to shrink into the wall but the weight of years of rejection and financial lack cause the supernatural chains to shorten against the walls to my left and right, pulling my arms painfully to the sides.
Me:
“Get out of here Angel. Leave me to die. Neither your God nor the devil have anything I want. Just let me die and sleep.”
The demon comes into the room, towering two heads above me like builder does. I strain against my chains trying to bite it or head-butt it.
A hoarse scream comes out of my soul. It erupts out of me like vomit.
Me:
“I HATE YOU ALL!”
Neither Angel nor demon seem phased by my impotent rage.
The demon just laughs at me and bends over so that his eyes are my level.
Demon:
“You are worthless, you are weak and God does not care about your pain.”
Suddenly, with such precise violence that I shrink backwards in shock, Builder grabs the demon by its throat and rams it into the wall.
The glory on Builder’s face erupts into fire and the demon drops to the floor, picks itself up and runs from the room.
Builder:
“Behold, your friends have begun to pray for you son of sorrow.”
Suddenly demons start emerging from everywhere, through ceilings, walls, the floor… Builder unsheaths his sword from somewhere behind him, completely outnumbered but his entire being on fire and now with loud cracks that shake the prison, another four Angels join him. The fire is now so bright that I have to squint to see what is going on. The passages of the prison explode into loud battle and my small cell becomes a scene of utter violence. Around me the five Angels wreak havoc among the legion of demons that press in on them. The battle rages on and on and I watch as an Angel is overpowered and disappears with a loud crack again.
Builder:
“We could use some help son of sorrow.”
Me:
“What the heck can I do? Even if these chain were off me, I wouldn’t stand a chance in physical combat.”
Builder:
“Worship! You must worship the king. Worship Him son of sorrow. For above all have you been created to love. “
I can’t. I don’t want to. The anger inside of me is too dear. Why should I worship a God who has brought me such hell? What if this is all fake? What if this is all just my imagination? I start to weep again, my voice cracking as I try to speak:
Me:
“I can’t. I can’t get hurt again. I can’t take another disappointment. If He lets me down again I won’t be able to come back. I’m scared builder. JUST LEAVE. Let me die.”
Another Angel disappears with a loud crack but Builder and the remaining two stand fast and somehow keep the tide off me.
Builder:
“He won’t disappoint you son of sorrow. He won’t. He never has. Take your eyes off your pain and off of man. This curse is because your eyes are in man. Let it go, forgive yourself, forgive those who have hurt you, step into your destiny son of sorrow. You have been called for such a time as this. Begin to worship and watch the chains in this entire prison snap!”
His last sentence does something inside of me. I can help the others in the prison if I just worship.
Me:
“Father, I don’t know how but please give me the strength to forgive and worship. Please father, even if this is my last act as Samson had his last act. Let me do something right and then do with me as you wish.”
I start to sing a worship song with simple lyrics. My heart completely empty and my lips completely numb. It feels fake and powerless but I keep singing. The battle rages on and I feel like my song is ineffectual but I sing.
Me:
“Holy is the Lamb, Worthy is the Lamb.”
I sing it over and over. I feel nothing. The song is out of tune and my throat cracks. I feel vulnerable and exposed and all I want to do is shout my hatred for the universe but I sing. Tears of frustration run down my face but I sing.
I can’t forgive myself or anyone else but I sing.
Something starts to happen inside me. A small glimmer of the physical presence of God. Before my eyes the Angels start to burn even brighter and Builder laughs as his sword bursts into flame.
Builder:
“Worship Him son of sorrow! Nothing in this universe can withstand the power of His glory! Listen as the very walls begin to sing with you. Sing your own song son of sorrow. Let this darkness fall from you and let this same fire that is upon us come upon you! You are a child of the living God and He cares deeply for you. SING son of glory! Sing to our God!”
The physical presence of the Holy Spirit fills the cell and the chains literally melt off my arms. I can no longer remember what put me in this prison, all I want to do is worship. I sing with all my heart and raise my hands up, now noticing that they too are on fire as the Angels are on fire. Now it sounds like fireworks as four Cherubim arrive.
Builder:
“Behold son of glory! Your guardians have arrived!”
With flaming swords, multiple sets of wings and multiple faces do these incredibly powerful beings cut through the demonic horde around us and I step away from the wall. Each of the Cherubim take a place around me and I walk down the passage, heading onto cell after cell setting captives free.
I am here for decades. Moving up and down the passages of the prison and a vast multitude join me. Legions of Angels sweeping through the hordes of demons like a tidal wave.
Deeper we go, deeper into the belly of this prison until we stand before the biggest set doors I have ever seen in a cavern that could fit skyscrapers.
I am sixty years old. Every fiber of my being hums with the love of the Father and a vast multitude stands to my left and right.
Uriel stands beside me and places his now familiar hand upon my shoulder.
Uriel:
“Behold the leaders of this revival son of sorrow!”
From the ranks of the multitude tens of thousands of teenagers step forward, flaming swords in their hands. Their lips spit fire at the doors before them and it shakes under the onslaught.
Uriel:
“They hold the double-edged sword in one hand and the words of the son flow from their lips.”
Now a figure steps from the crowd, barefoot so that I can see the marks where the nails pierced his feet. And every knee bows as he moves towards the door. Like a million knights before the king do we bow our heads. I adjust my grip on my sword and ready myself for what is to come. I am sixty years old but vitality pumps through my veins and my focus is as pure as the Angels who have been my friends for these 18 years.
And the son speaks to the massive doors.
The King:
“I will build my church and the gates of hell will not prevail against it!”
At those words, our young leaders rise as one and charge straight at the massive doors. I don’t give it a second thought and follow them, sweeping around our king in a tide of love, intent on setting free whoever are trapped behind that door.
As they reach the door, Michael sprints through the crowd and crashes into the door with such fury that it explodes before us and now I see Gabriel for the first time. Light streaming off him as he leads a host past Michael into the space beyond the ruined door. The entire host of Angels and saints flood through the massive doors and mass before gates that stretch so high that they disappear into the darkness of the massive cavern above us.
On the other side of the gate are masses of principalities. Six massive demons stand on the other side of the gate, fallen Archangels, servants of Satan, brimming with hatred and as eager for this fight as we are. Beyond them a multitude of mankind line walls for as far as the eye can see, chained and lost in hopelessness.
And now the son of God steps to the gate and produces a key.
And the young men and women at the head of our army grow to the same size as the principalities beyond the gates. Their lips aflame with the word of God.
Tens of thousands of giant saints now stand before the gates of the kingdom of mammon and the realm of the deceiver. And the gates swing open.
We all wait for the command.
The King:
“Set the captives free.”
The command booms like thunder and we move as one. Every defensive strategy of hell is swept aside as the furious passion of our young leaders unleashes the word of God upon the hordes of hell. And as we sweep forward, we smash chains and send the newly freed children to the back of the army where they are healed and loved.
Now the banners are raised. Millions of them. And upon every banner is written ‘Love’.
We are back on the property under Michael’s calf.
Gatherer:
“You must focus upon this vision that you have now seen son of sorrow. And instruct the harvesters to do the same. For if you look at the past you will despise God and do nothing and be of no effect. For the deceiver create a counterfeit love and a counterfeit gospel and confuses what is God and is not.
Let only the words of the son be upon your lips. And do not allow any who cause you to doubt this assignment near your ear. For doubt will place you once again in that prison and in those chains.
Heed these words: Those who cause you to doubt have been sent by the deceiver and though they know it not act as sons of hell in those moments.
This great harvest must come to pass.
Write all that you see and keep your heart clean.
His love is all you need. Cover yourself in it and become obsessed with it.
You are a child of the living God, not the counterfeit, the Father of all.
And his love is more than enough!
His Kingdom is all!”
Me
“His kingdom is all.”
I wake up.