(Edited by sister Cheryl Lowe.)
I had a dream a few days ago (January 12, 2012). I hesitated to record it, but feel led to do so now. The more I contemplate on it, the more I sense that it speaks loudly of the season the Lord is unfolding before some of us. At the same time, the burden of my proven failure to catch up in my spirit and in my heart with what the Father so eagerly wants to be accomplished becomes ever heavier. He is evidently asking me to rise up into action in order to answer my heavenly calling. If I indeed represent a generation, as indicated in this dream, then this should be even more sobering because of the lack of such a commitment. Urgency would then have a much broader application than simply in my own life…
Fleeing from Destruction
Whether it was a disaster of natural cause or man-induced, I don’t know… I do know that our homeland was now caught in devastation. Fire was everywhere and everything was shaken and burnt down. There were explosions all around, caused by bombs or brimstone, I don’t know…People were running in all directions, some grouped together as different factions and were fighting against one another. There must have be looting and killing, but I don’t remember seeing it.
The dream starts with me, helping my crippled mother to flee from this terrible scene. We are accompanied by my little sister (younger than me, which is not as it is in my real life). Now, our home had been burnt down, and no one in my homeland was with us anymore. Others were all caught up in a madness that really was a marvel to believe. To an extent, they were now all acting like wild beasts, devouring one another without any hint of mercy or peace.
Mama had to lean on me heavily, as she wasn’t able to walk quickly because her left leg had a cripple in the hip. Her weight made her really clumsy. We were moving as quickly as we could across a hill country to somewhere. Interestingly, a servant or friend, I don’t know, was assigned to escort us. He was a man of middle age, strong in build and professional in action- like an elite soldier. Only after a while did it began to dawn on me why we intuitively followed his direction- because he knew where our destination was. Sometimes, he would lend a hand, but the burden of my mother was solely on me. Somehow, he was not allowed to directly help and my sister was too weak. The whole time she was dragging behind, having a hard time even to catch up with us. The fleeing was really urgent and quite pains-taking because Mama would stumble here and there, making it hard for me to move on. This drastically slowed all of us down. It was extremely difficult when I had to carry her more in order to make a leap when crossing some streams of water, or to lift her up when she stumbled into a pit from time to time. Sometimes, in order to climb some slopes, I literally had to put her on my shoulder and carry her all the way.
Getting Situated in My Father’s Chariot
Finally we arrive at our destination. Parking on the side of the road in a desert place, is this huge armed car or war chariot- like a massive tanker, but much bigger. The vehicle was made of all iron or steel, with huge wheels higher than 2 or 3 men stacked tall. The back was like a truck, already packed up with people, refugees that had arrived earlier, all packed tightly together. I managed to lift Mama up and situated her and my sister in a place that others kindly squeezed out for them. After settling them on the side, where it was more comfortable and stable, I find out that there is no more room. The people inside all seem to be quite distressed and anxious, and they wasted no time to close the door, leaving me standing on the back of the vehicle, perplexed.
I look at my helper, not knowing why the people did not even bother to make an effort to situate me in, (which was quite unlikely come to think of it). Now I didn’t know what was next. Was I to be left behind and what about him? He motioned me to the left corner and told me that there was room for me. I turned the corner and saw an opening door on the left side. Walking up to it, I managed to lift myself and got into the middle section of the vehicle with the support of my helper. There were only a few rows of seats, all occupied by some elite soldiers or fighters. The only seat left was the one by the door, just behind the driver seat. It was a bit set apart from other seats. I thought to myself that it must be reserved for someone else. I looked up to the others to see if they could spare some room for me. These folks seemed to be my peers, but I knew not one of them. They began to smirk at me, as some marines would do to a newcomer when they are on a mission, sitting in a car and aircraft. “There is no room for you here. You are too late!” I felt a bit embarrassed, feeling foolish for getting into the wrong place where I did not belong. I began to withdraw myself, wanting to get out. As I turned around, the helper was just ready to close the door. Looking at me with a smile on his face, he motioned for me to sit down at the seat by the door. “This is your seat. Don’t pay attention to them. They are just making fun of you.”
Just as I began to sit down, I saw that there were three people in the front section of the vehicle. The one sitting on the left, who was the driver, and the one in the middle turned back to look at me, beaming with smiles. They had evidently enjoyed the whole show of me being teased by the others. The driver was my second brother, and the other was my oldest brother. I was so surprised to see them and that they were actually there all this time. In my puzzlement, they began to assure me as well, “Take your seat, little (younger) brother. It is reserved for you.” I didn’t know how to respond, and I wanted to ask them more about the whole situation. Then the person on the right turned around as well. He was my father. He stopped my brothers short and gazed at me with seriousness. I knew then from His expression that there had been some judgement lacking on my part. The first thing that I recognized was my doubt and confusion about whether this seat was mine or not. If the whole chariot belonged to my family, surely I would have a place in it. Also I knew that I was somehow a bit late. Now it was time to set out. No more fun and games. Seeing my father’s serious look on his face, my brothers quickly turned around and began to start the engine and get on the road. Peeking through the front window I could see a straight road ahead of us, extending far out into the flat desert place.
Time to Learn to Drive
I turned my head and began to look at the driver’s hands, knowing that I was supposed to learn every move he would make, for now it was time for me to learn how to drive. All the people inside became very quiet, recognizing the seriousness of the situation, and my father’s solemnity. I still felt upset, felt my foolishness the whole time about how I worried whether I would find a seat or not… And now that I think back, I was troubled mostly in knowing that I had not done my absolute best to help my mother to move faster, sometimes even complaining about her clumsiness. I should have done better than that. I could have carried her on my shoulder more often when needed, and that way we would have moved faster. However, all of this was behind me now, and the only thing I needed to do at this moment was to take heed of the driver’s moves and learn from him how to drive. I had a sense that I would be needed to drive on the next leg of our journey.
