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The Home for Christian Writers! Matthew 6:33
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In this dream you stand by an Oasis in the final watch of the night, studying your uneasy reflection upon its surface for some quality you've searched for all your life. As is frequently the case, you're tormented by that haunting question: "What secret lies beneath these waters formed by the Shekinah?"
Therein lay answers to numerous matters you've agonized over: "Who am I? Why have I suffered so much? What lies hidden by my mind's confusion?"
A potent feeling comes upon you, one of mystery. You look up and there she is, the lady you saw in your Teal dream.
A longing for her consumes you. As if everything in and beyond perception were focusing on the flowing robed woman and nothing else existed.
Already she's slipping away, turning she walks over a slight knoll and disappears. You feel emptiness such as rarely experienced in your lifespan thus far.
"I was close to a manner of fulfillment. Now she's gone." This escapes clenched teeth.
Tears welling in your eyes you tentatively walk after her, over an embankment and into full view of the sprawling desert. Desperately you search for the lady but she is nowhere to be seen. Standing there desolately, those long held tears are fought back for a time before your resolve breaks. Melting after all and choked by a suddenly familiar anguish, they run down your cheeks. An old wound of rejection appears to have opened in your chest.
You sit, examining the dunes with a reverence reserved for sacred writ, somehow not quite seeing them at all. Feasibly there lies buried the enigmatic acceptance by people denied you, inundated by a dusty, undulating carpet of purples and burgundies bathed in the waxing moonlight.
Without fathoming how, scales fall from your eyes and they truly open. You start considering the wealth that distinguished Egypt; the meandering caravans abundant with merchandise, guided by Bedouin. Foreboding men in robes round a bonfire. You see a vision of them warming themselves as dusk turns into an ill-fated night. Deep in this aridness stand the pyramids in their youthful perfection, glistening white.
Dark stratagems and sorceries imbue the region.
You are safe nonetheless for a separation between darkness and light has occurred here. Attesting to this, a purifying breeze stirs over the Oasis, over your face. The gust has a harsh characteristic. It progressively becomes agreeable, conforming no longer to the chilly norm in a parched kingdom's night.
Indeed you yourself conform no longer to your old brokenness but are effortlessly transformed into the new imagining of you, the man fit for her, by Ruach's renewing breeze.
The dusty desert becomes her word in this parable, and so you are renewed by Ruach's breeze and an unveiling of her word rife with arcane visions revealing Arabia's past.
As the breeze streams into your once dormant soul your mood alters. A welcoming feeling which has eluded your grasp rests steadfastly on you, at last, as her palm gently presses against your shoulder.
The phantasmagoric queen you saw calmly sits by your side and converses. She is overwhelming; her serenity, kindheartedness, her smiles. Although you were once afraid you would have nothing to say, the whole thing falls in place so easily; words of Ruach, The Spirit.
"We dwell constantly in the Lord's Shekinah glory. All we need is found here." she says in passing.
Thank God I listened faithfully to her till life's end.
Within the magical Oasis swirl Jehovah's purposes. His voice spoke in the rays of moonlight, shedding light on this desert.
And so we drank of and immersed ourselves in that living water.
Now his face is my reflection as I stare into the Oasis.
He nurtures us, bringing his nature inside us to the fore. At his right hand we shall experience pleasures forevermore.
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