Dream 91I am back under the lighthouse.
Hundreds of thousands of people drown in the sea while I stand there, no more rope, no more strength, no more hope.
The sea merges with circumstances that these people face. Massive poverty, rape, daily abuse, hopelessness, abortion, famine and war. Waves of demonic affliction crash into them day after day and I want to help them so much that I weep with impotent frustration. We have a few people working, praying and ministering but there are millions in that ocean. We need so much help.
I turn to look for reinforcements and run up the rocks to the beach.
Someone has set up a christian coffee shop with a nice view of the sea. Here well dressed saints sip lattes and laugh and chat about sports and politics while flailing hands disappear beneath the waves.
I ask them for help and they nod politely, taking another sip of their lattes. “God is in control brother.”
One of them gives me a few dollars, prays with me and heads to his beach house. I stand there tiredly looking on with a few dollars in my hands as he drives off.
One of the saints at the coffee shop sees the expression in my face and offers some wisdom. “Not everyone is called to feed everyone you know. Some of us are called to live lives that show the goodness of God so that the world will look and see that God takes care of His children. Christianity is about joy and happiness and success! You are too intense, people like you scare people away from Christ. Look how our friend suddenly needed to leave after you came begging here!”
Exhaustion washes over me.
I walk back to the lighthouse where the bodies of thousands of children have washed onto the rocks up and down the coast. There is nothing more I can do. I have swum out thousands of times. I have used both old rope and new. Those who care are too few. The world is cursed by its own indifference.
I lie down on the rocks and close my eyes. I am tired.
Gatherer stands above me:
Gatherer:
“There is much work to be done son of sorrow.”
Me:
“I curse the day I was born to this hell. I curse humanity for their heartless indifference. I curse my eyes for seeing the world beyond my own life. This world does not deserve grace, it deserves fire.
Leave me to die Gatherer. There are too few caring Christians upon this planet. The rest just want to stay blind. We are outnumbered by heartlessness and selfishness. I curse my heart for feeling the pain of others. And I curse those who are dark enough to judge me for it. The weight of the revelation is too much. I don’t see us making even a small dent. Let me die. It would be better if I were dead.”
Gatherer:
“There is much work to be done and you must record all that is instructed. Do not concern yourself with mankind. This is not your task. You do not know the hearts of man. You foolishly judge the whole body by the actions of those you see. Many do mighty deeds in the kingdom. You are not shown these things so that you may pass judgement, you are shown these things so that others may see what you see.”
Me:
“Just let me sleep.”
I close my eyes upon the rock and fall into a deep pit of despair. I can’t see this stuff night after night and do nothing about it. The sorrow buffets me in waves until I finally wake up. Tired and discouraged.