September 3, 2015
I woke early this morning from a dream. The dream was of two good friends who went to church one Sunday and after the service turned around and welcomed the foreigners who were sitting behind them. As they visited, the man asked, “What is forgiveness?”
Later Joel turned to Marty and said, “They don’t know anything about God.”
They decided to pray for them – not just a token, “I pray for so and so.”, but to give themselves to such. They decided to spend Saturday night at the church in prayer. It was an awesome time of communing with God.
Eventually they went “to bed”. They had brought sleeping bags. They did not think there was any chance they would not wake up and be gone before people started showing up for church the next morning.
When they woke that morning, they were so excited about the time they spent with God that Joel, without getting up, shouted out at the top of his lungs, “Amen!”
Much to their surprise, amens were said in reply. They sat up in their sleeping bags and found the church half filled with people.
Unflustered, and laughing, they brushed their hair with their fingers, rolled up their sleeping bags, and… this is where I woke up.
I loved the dream. And it would not surprise me if this couple did such. I loved the pull of the Spirit to do something and the pursuit of the doing …regardless of what others may think. I love drawing close to God.
It reminded me of my time following Hurricane Katrina. Interestingly, it was during this time that I “met” this couple. Marty became my Minneapolis connection. She was amazing.
Then I realized it had been 10 years …not approximately, but exactly …to the day. It was wonderfully erie. It was as it was then. Here’s what I wrote 10 years ago today:
It was 5 days after Hurricane Katrina. I could no longer just watch what was happening on TV. I packed a few clothes and drove to Louisiana. Even after driving 26 hours straight, I could not sleep. Words of Christ kept running through my mind.
It was 2:00 in the morning when I took a piece of cardboard, pulled it under a flood light lit by a very noisy generator on a blocked off street in Baton Rouge, sat down, and started to write…
I was hungry,
And you waited for the government
To give Me something to eat;
I was thirsty,
And you wrote a brilliant editorial
Complaining that I had nothing to drink;
And you took Me to a stadium
To live like cattle;
And you watched while the TV crews
Filmed Me for their “Special”;
I was sick,
And you left Me on the streets
Of N’Orleans to die;
I was in prison,
In My roof;
And you took a picture of my roof,
And showed it on your benefit “for the victims”,
You boasted about the millions you collected
As you watched your sales soar.
…And I waited.
You do know, don’t you?
You’re not doing this to N’Orleans;
You’re doing this to Me.