I started thinking this morning about the events and rational that compelled me to concern myself with the marriage between mysticism and reason. Upon retrospect, I realize that my task is an attempt to eradicate an internal conflict, present from childhood, rooted, at least, in my first memories.
Two specific memories serve a starting point. Both take place about the same time, and the same place: at night---between the ages of four and six, and in my bedroom on 6th Street in Grove.
The first experience begins when I am starting to sleep, on the top bunkbed, when I feel like a brick falls from the cieling and hits me in the head. At once, I feel dizzy and the room starts to spin , and I become paralyzed until the motion of my environment ceases. The second event, this time on the bottom bunk, I awaken from a dream, but can't move. I look towards the foot of the bed, and there is a black figure with blue eyes holding a saw. Laughing, he starts to cut my ankles. I am startled by my own crying and yelling, then the figure disappears.These two events implanted in me an awareness for inexplicable experiences. Since childhood, many similar instances occured, mostly with entites sinister in nature.
Like most stricken by fear, I saught council with the highest authority on spiritual (mental)matters that I knew. In my case, such council was my grandmother, one who I held dear to heart, and the wife of my grandfather, the pastor of my local church. At age five or so, I had an awe for my grandfather, but my grandma was my friend, so I went to her first.
Of course, she quickened with righteous fury and began to rebuke the devil, and all demonic activities, from my resting place---in the name of Jesus. Now, to be honest, my grandmother's response to my situation formed a template for problem solving; whether the problem be mundane or extramundane, her's was the satifactory approach---at least until the tail end of my prepubescent years. There, around the ages of 9-12, reason began to temper my maddening mysticism.
Friday, February 15, 2008
Sunday, February 3, 2008
Dreams and the Sovereignty of God
Nearly a week straight, I dreamnt my father and I arguing...violently.
Last night I dreamnt I was with my family, visiting an East coast university, where I witness a murder, where the murderer and I made eye contact before he fled. Later, against my better judgment, we went to McDonald's for lunch; after the boys begged incessently. McDonald's was crowded, so the table we chose had remnants of another's lunch. I placed them in the trash. We were all set when a black couple in Sunday dress approached. Small talk followed; then, I notice Sarah was holding our infant. The man went to kiss my wife's breast. I stared the man in the face and stood up, telling him to leave. He was defiant, when his wife said, "forget about it, he's crazy", then she complimented my on my intuition concerning his insanity. I said, "It's nothing, just a gift I have".
Suddenly, four other black men approach, in street garb, when one hands me two keys, both to Mercedes. He demands I bring them to the front of the restaurant; otherwise, he threatened to take my family's life. He mumbles the car's location in the parking garage as we exit.
Walking to the garage, my wife starts to cry, asking, "What was that all about?" I mumble some negative retort, but then tell her and the boys to stay put. I run for the garage, and make about 100 yards of progress, trying to rember the locations of the cars, when another black man jumps on the up ramp, yelling "That's him, in the yellow!" Then, others climbed the ramp, all black, an start after me.
I awoke.
Like millions of people, dreams help me define mystery. St. Augustine thanked God daily that he (Augustine) was not responsible for his dreams, or he would surely burn in hell. I think that in some part, we are responsible. We may not be able to filter every experience that contributes to the delinquency of our dreams, but some we can: movies, conversations, and our meditations. There are others, I am sure; but, I don't want to take the time to think of them now. So, dreams and the 'real' life, lead me to think of the sovereignty of God and the will of men.
I am inclined to believe God always has a plan, and his plans are always rooted in the love he has for me and his creation. God is love, and God is sovereign---two of my first principles, by which all my rational contructs rest.
I am running out of time, so I will be as breif and clear as God allows. Dreams, to me, represent one of many beautiful marriges between the mystery and the known. We can influence dreams, but dreams do as they please.
Last night I dreamnt I was with my family, visiting an East coast university, where I witness a murder, where the murderer and I made eye contact before he fled. Later, against my better judgment, we went to McDonald's for lunch; after the boys begged incessently. McDonald's was crowded, so the table we chose had remnants of another's lunch. I placed them in the trash. We were all set when a black couple in Sunday dress approached. Small talk followed; then, I notice Sarah was holding our infant. The man went to kiss my wife's breast. I stared the man in the face and stood up, telling him to leave. He was defiant, when his wife said, "forget about it, he's crazy", then she complimented my on my intuition concerning his insanity. I said, "It's nothing, just a gift I have".
Suddenly, four other black men approach, in street garb, when one hands me two keys, both to Mercedes. He demands I bring them to the front of the restaurant; otherwise, he threatened to take my family's life. He mumbles the car's location in the parking garage as we exit.
Walking to the garage, my wife starts to cry, asking, "What was that all about?" I mumble some negative retort, but then tell her and the boys to stay put. I run for the garage, and make about 100 yards of progress, trying to rember the locations of the cars, when another black man jumps on the up ramp, yelling "That's him, in the yellow!" Then, others climbed the ramp, all black, an start after me.
I awoke.
Like millions of people, dreams help me define mystery. St. Augustine thanked God daily that he (Augustine) was not responsible for his dreams, or he would surely burn in hell. I think that in some part, we are responsible. We may not be able to filter every experience that contributes to the delinquency of our dreams, but some we can: movies, conversations, and our meditations. There are others, I am sure; but, I don't want to take the time to think of them now. So, dreams and the 'real' life, lead me to think of the sovereignty of God and the will of men.
I am inclined to believe God always has a plan, and his plans are always rooted in the love he has for me and his creation. God is love, and God is sovereign---two of my first principles, by which all my rational contructs rest.
I am running out of time, so I will be as breif and clear as God allows. Dreams, to me, represent one of many beautiful marriges between the mystery and the known. We can influence dreams, but dreams do as they please.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)