My father and I have an interesting relationship. I liken it to a ride on a roller-coaster. Sometimes we’re up and sometimes we’re down but it is always guaranteed to be an interesting ride. He is always trying to tell me something that I feel I already know. Always trying to teach me something in what I consider to be my old age. Always trying to preach to me when I feel I am already full of the word. Always trying to warm up to me when I feel I’ve reached my maximum temperature of comfortability. I doth protest with him much. And I feel, in some ways, that my relationships with my earthly father, mirrors the one that I have with my spiritual Father. Abba Father. I don’t listen as I should. Don’t speak to him as much as I should. Don’t love on him or tell him I love him as much as I should. But nevertheless he never leaves me nor forsakes and always sends his message to me by any means necessary and at the most unlikely times. He did this last night.
As I tossed and turned in the night in the midst of the New York heat wave, I had a dream about God where God sent me a message. My dream involved a man who has been starring in my dreams for the last few years. An old friend who I have written about on this blog many times. In this dream it seemed as if we reunited. I don’t know how it happened, but before I knew it, he was at my parent’s old house in New York. We were meeting to have dinner–I was cooking of course. This would be the first time in years since I had seen him, so I was a excited and hopeful that this meant we could pick up where we left off.
When he walked into the house and stood at the entrance of our hallway, I walked quickly toward him to embrace him, but he gave me the weakest hug I have ever received. I was a bit dissapointed in his inability to tighten his grip on an old friend but nevertheless I pressed on and had him sit down for dinner. I prepared Kima Mutter, an Indian dish comprised of ground beef–or ground turkey–well seasoned with mixed vegetables and served over a bed of rice. But for a dish I have made several times for myself, I messed this batch up. In the midst of serving dinner, my father sat down at the table with my long lost friend. He didn’t bother to leave us alone. I rolled my eyes and told my mom to take him away, but she ignored me and walked into the other room. I don’t remember if I nudged my dad or asked him to leave but in a moment he said no because he didn’t like my long lost friend. And just like that my friend vanished from the table and my father proceeded to tell me that he is not good for me. I tried to refute the point but my mouth was closed shut and the case was closed. After my father’s last words, the dream was over and I woke up wondering if God had just spoken to me about this man. I didn’t think too hard about it and went back to sleep.
When I woke up this morning, something in my heart had changed. I had this feeling that God really did speak to me in the dream. He was speaking through my father, who many times has judged a man and been on target with his analysis. I couldn’t believe it, but I could all at the same time. God rendered his judgment quick and fast and in the moment he spoke, there wasn’t anything I could say.
For what felt like the first time in my life, I heard His voice clearly. And for what may be the first time in my life–well maybe not, but concerning this issue-I am hearing Him and heeding His word. There are far too many times in our lives when we think we know what is best for us and we refuse to listen to God. And even as single men and women, we spend lots of time wondering if the last good thing we had was supposed to be “the one.” But it is the last thing God says that sets the path for our lives and it is important that we hear Him out. I know I heard him last night and I am ready to let it go. I know what He has for me is so much better than what I had. Father always knows best.