This Blood Is Our Undoing
My tongue was dry and cracked as I gasped for air this morning waking up from a radically disturbing dream, not of the likes of my many former. I had been transported in a police car, via an old friend, through my hometown, Bordentown, NJ. We were around the block from my former home, where he dropped me off amongst a gathering of people on the stoop of a local bank. There were all kinds of familiar faces, and people I once knew congregating, as I noticed upon the bell tower of the city hall just before me, A group of what seemed to be muslims with a video camera. I remembered some of the movies I had seen with this being a precursor to terrorist attacks, noticing the crowd around me I booked around the corner to my former residence.
At that time, I locked myself inside, and with the passing of moments began to hear screams and gunshots. As I peered through the curtains of my home, dashed with the decor of my childhood, I could see people being rounded up, beaten and even shot. Blood was in the streets, and shouting became the ambient noise. My family was also amongst me. My brother and mother were panicked and knew not their next move. Surely we couldn't stay inside, we were being liquefied. Cautiously we made our way to the back door, only to be greeted by a woman speaking of the one true Lord Jesus Christ. She approached me and I knew at that moment, that this was a persecution, yet not that of unbelievers, this was a crusade...
I relayed to the moderately sized, soft spoken elder of what seemed like an army in casual clothing, that I too knew Jesus Christ, and that I will be attending school to further my purpose in Him. She was pleased at this and took my family and I away to what was in turn, my former high school.
We were all round up within the walls of this former school, now prison, and this was the last I saw of my family. I was held in a room, as people were still being destroyed in the streets. I began to ponder the nature of events that were playing out in front of me. I began to compare them to scripture and ultimately felt very ashamed for having joined these ranks as opposed to martyrdom. I fetched the woman in her leadership and intended to undermine her authority based upon the scriptures, calling her out to a public meeting beginning in 5 minutes in the lunch hall. Quickly I dashed from classroom to classroom calling to classes of a meeting in the lunch hall in 5 minutes. They seemed shocked at this news coming from a messenger such as myself, and in 5 minutes we met in the hall.
The area filled as I grabbed a microphone with the tyrant sneering next to me. I realized that this would be my death sentence, yet I had to speak. I spoke out against her crimes against humanity, and that this is not the way in which Jesus presented to us to reach the masses with the good news of the gospel. Within mere seconds the room emptied, all of those who had come out to attend fled back to the comfort of their half-existences. I knew I had been put aside, my momentum faded, my intent became feeble. The woman turned to me and smiled sarcastically, so I promptly returned to my room, awaiting my captor. I anxiously made way toward the window in hopes of escape and thrust my fist through the glass in disgust, slicing my wrist and bleeding heavily upon the sill. Seeing the blood, I returned to the woman in the hall, re-motivated and willing to die a martyr's death. I spoke clearly to her this time that she may not have the pleasure in killing me for I myself, have already drawn my own blood, (knowing that I would not receive medical attention). At this moment my alarm went off, and I awoke with heavy pulsing of my right arm where I had been sliced.
The accuracy of this dream really posted a sincere urgency in my mind. All was as it was, it took place in real places, kept to a T, all with personal meaning. The whole scenario of religious persecution was reminiscent of the Spanish conquests and other catholic crusades. However, this could be applied to all conflict based upon the pursuit of forcing religion with the consequence of death. Christians, these applications of spreading the word do NOT reflect the gospels, and are present! Let us be proud veterans in upholding the sanctification of our faith! Forget not that we are a blessed generation, we will see change if we are willing to change...
Dating back to the first century church, Christians have been enduring severe persecution. Just last week 46 Christians were killed in Baghdad, and just the other day two more were shot. I could list specific events globally but, I've got to be at work in 20 minutes... So I will let you open your eyes to the mass graves of missionaries (if you're willing to see), check out videos of persecution on youtube.com (you will find them) or head over to www.persecution.org . Perhaps you would be willing to support your local missionaries, or donate to one of these online causes. These men and women proudly serve in the LORDS Army, let us in the reserves support our troops and be ready to heed the call of duty. Let us not stand trembling in the light of our trenches, but let us go "Over the top" into the darkness, when the whistle blows.
http://www.persecution.org/
http://www.persecution.com/ (Voice of the Martyrs)
http://www.gfa.org/
http://persecutionproject.org/
At that time, I locked myself inside, and with the passing of moments began to hear screams and gunshots. As I peered through the curtains of my home, dashed with the decor of my childhood, I could see people being rounded up, beaten and even shot. Blood was in the streets, and shouting became the ambient noise. My family was also amongst me. My brother and mother were panicked and knew not their next move. Surely we couldn't stay inside, we were being liquefied. Cautiously we made our way to the back door, only to be greeted by a woman speaking of the one true Lord Jesus Christ. She approached me and I knew at that moment, that this was a persecution, yet not that of unbelievers, this was a crusade...
I relayed to the moderately sized, soft spoken elder of what seemed like an army in casual clothing, that I too knew Jesus Christ, and that I will be attending school to further my purpose in Him. She was pleased at this and took my family and I away to what was in turn, my former high school.
We were all round up within the walls of this former school, now prison, and this was the last I saw of my family. I was held in a room, as people were still being destroyed in the streets. I began to ponder the nature of events that were playing out in front of me. I began to compare them to scripture and ultimately felt very ashamed for having joined these ranks as opposed to martyrdom. I fetched the woman in her leadership and intended to undermine her authority based upon the scriptures, calling her out to a public meeting beginning in 5 minutes in the lunch hall. Quickly I dashed from classroom to classroom calling to classes of a meeting in the lunch hall in 5 minutes. They seemed shocked at this news coming from a messenger such as myself, and in 5 minutes we met in the hall.
The area filled as I grabbed a microphone with the tyrant sneering next to me. I realized that this would be my death sentence, yet I had to speak. I spoke out against her crimes against humanity, and that this is not the way in which Jesus presented to us to reach the masses with the good news of the gospel. Within mere seconds the room emptied, all of those who had come out to attend fled back to the comfort of their half-existences. I knew I had been put aside, my momentum faded, my intent became feeble. The woman turned to me and smiled sarcastically, so I promptly returned to my room, awaiting my captor. I anxiously made way toward the window in hopes of escape and thrust my fist through the glass in disgust, slicing my wrist and bleeding heavily upon the sill. Seeing the blood, I returned to the woman in the hall, re-motivated and willing to die a martyr's death. I spoke clearly to her this time that she may not have the pleasure in killing me for I myself, have already drawn my own blood, (knowing that I would not receive medical attention). At this moment my alarm went off, and I awoke with heavy pulsing of my right arm where I had been sliced.
The accuracy of this dream really posted a sincere urgency in my mind. All was as it was, it took place in real places, kept to a T, all with personal meaning. The whole scenario of religious persecution was reminiscent of the Spanish conquests and other catholic crusades. However, this could be applied to all conflict based upon the pursuit of forcing religion with the consequence of death. Christians, these applications of spreading the word do NOT reflect the gospels, and are present! Let us be proud veterans in upholding the sanctification of our faith! Forget not that we are a blessed generation, we will see change if we are willing to change...
Dating back to the first century church, Christians have been enduring severe persecution. Just last week 46 Christians were killed in Baghdad, and just the other day two more were shot. I could list specific events globally but, I've got to be at work in 20 minutes... So I will let you open your eyes to the mass graves of missionaries (if you're willing to see), check out videos of persecution on youtube.com (you will find them) or head over to www.persecution.org . Perhaps you would be willing to support your local missionaries, or donate to one of these online causes. These men and women proudly serve in the LORDS Army, let us in the reserves support our troops and be ready to heed the call of duty. Let us not stand trembling in the light of our trenches, but let us go "Over the top" into the darkness, when the whistle blows.
http://www.persecution.org/
http://www.persecution.com/ (Voice of the Martyrs)
http://www.gfa.org/
http://persecutionproject.org/
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