First, a little background - I was raised in the Methodist Church but wasn’t saved until age 28 in a Baptist church. My wife was a young widow at that church when we met, and had been through some rather bad treatment there by jealous women. Still, she persevered and we attended there several years after we were married. It was actually a pushy, manipulative, pompous preacher that caused us to leave. We then joined another Baptist church and attended regularly for several years until the snowballing gossip started by another jealous female caused us to leave. My wife was so emotionally hurt that time that she swears she’ll never go to church again. Strangely, I think we’ve both grown closer to the Lord during the time we’ve been OUT of church. Personally, I’ve come to believe that church membership, by and of itself is sinful. No-one voted new members into “club membership,” or made them go through catechisms in the days of the apostles. Furthermore, after a lifetime of reading and studying the Bible, I’ve come to believe in the original Sabbath. I don’t say any of this to offend anyone or even to start a discussion of church doctrines, but to simply show where I stand.
That being said, I miss fellowshipping with fellow believers (and don’t quote the verse, I know it well). In fact, I sort of feel that the Lord is trying to nudge me in that direction. Of course, that means that I’ll have to meet, once again, on the wrong day of the week, since all Sabbath-meeters in my area are quasi-Christian cults, and the closest Seventh Day Baptist is an hour’s drive away.
So, as is the case anymore, I was sleeping late this Sunday. In my dreams, I was visiting “my mother’s church,” which really wasn’t the case, since she now goes to a church in town. I was actually visiting the little country church down the road from where I was raised, where my first knowledge of church, and God and Jesus was instilled in me. I was to meet my mother there, so we arrived separately and I went inside to find her. Though in reality the little church is the same size as when I went there (and is all but dead), in my dream, it was much remodeled and expanded. Once inside, it appeared ten times the size that it seemed on the outside. Gone was the remuddled look so often found in poor churches, instead it was made of massive logs and polished wood and gave the appearance of a cross between a cathedral and a huge ski lodge.
A room-sized set of steps led to an equally large foyer, but inside was no sanctuary, but a huge dining hall with a high ceiling and a trussed roof of huge beams. There was no concerted effort to greet me, yet everyone I passed greeted me warmly and knew me by name and my family connections. Strangely, I didn’t know a one of them. I kept taking a few steps up here and there as stairs presented themselves, trying to get a better overall view of the place, and eventually found myself literally walking the horizontal beams above the dining hall. Some folks saw me and smiled or nodded, but no-one seemed the least surprised to see me above their heads—almost as if such sights were common for them.
It was a beautiful place, with all the beauty of the wood and some huge stone fireplaces, one of which had a wide mantel that I ended up walking across as I sought my way back down to the floor level. No meal had yet been served, but most people were already seated and seemed to be patiently waiting, while chatting amongst themselves. People of all ages were there, but the teenagers seemed to be somewhat gathered together, as would be expected in most churches. I never did spot Mom, but as my feet touched the floor of the main level, I woke up.
So, once again, I find myself wondering, is there a message here (some things might indicate so), or is it all just another silly dream? Perhaps only time will tell, but as always at such times, I remember Acts 2:17. © 2013-