The following is a dream I had three times over Memorial Day weekend. It is as it will appear in the next issue of the Hand of Help newsletter. It was a sobering dream in many ways.
Over Memorial Day weekend I was scheduled to speak in Lake Havasu Arizona. Since Las Vegas was the closest major airport and by far the cheapest ticket, Gene and I flew there having planned to spend the first night upon our arrival somewhere in the area, then make the drive to the meeting the next day.
After a four hour flight, some misunderstandings with the car rental agent, and a couple hours to get acclimated to the heat, we checked into our room without further incident.
That night I had a dream.
I dreamt I was standing beside a path leading into a forest, and although snow blanketed the ground, the path was still visible, clear, and well defined. Although I wasn’t cold in my dream, I could seem my breath and as I looked around trying to understand what I was seeing and why I was seeing it a beautiful buck made its way up the path toward me.
Although I can’t say I’ve seen many bucks up close this seemed like a fine specimen, regal in its bearing, almost prancing up the path with its head held high.
I stood beside the path unmoving, not wanting to spook the animal in any way. If it saw me it did not let it show as it passed by and continued trotting down the path.
I continued to watch it follow the path toward the forest until suddenly it veered off and began to make its way through the packed snow. Although its pace slowed and it was having a difficult time making headway once it veered off the path, the buck seemed stubborn in its insistence, and though progress was slow, it continued its march.
I started to look around for something else, not really understanding what I was seeing or why I was seeing it when a sharp crack drew my attention back to the buck. Although the animal was a good distance from me, I could see what had happened with great clarity.
The buck had stepped into a hole which had been masked by the snow, and had snapped its front left leg.
I didn’t know what else to do, so I just stood and watched as it forced itself up, and though evidently in great pain, it began to continue on its journey away from the path.
Its progress was slow, and I could hear the echoes of its bleating, but wounded as it was the animal was insistent in its purpose.
After some time the buck stopped suddenly and began to sniff at the air. An instant later the mournful sound of howling wolves reached my ears, and I understood what the buck had smelled.
With renewed vigor the buck tried to run, but hampered by its wound, its progress was slow.
I was so focused on the buck that at first I did not acknowledge the movement in my peripheral vision, but as they drew closer I shifted my focus and I could see the source of the howls approaching swiftly. At first it was one wolf, then two, then five, then an entire pack, all in a semi-circle chasing down the wounded buck as it tried to flee.
I was anxious to see what would happen, I strained to see every detail, but as the wolf pack drew closer and closer to the buck, I woke up.
Troubled by the dream I’d had, I prayed a prayer and tried to go back to sleep but no sleep would come.
The next morning we made our way to Lake Havasu, and after having our evening meeting, and a late night dinner, I went to sleep only to dream the exact same dream again. Everything was the same, from the path and the snow, to the buck and its broken leg, to the howls and the wolves, and to waking up fully alert just as the wolves were closing in on the buck.
Once again I prayed and tried to go back to sleep, and once again sleep would not come.
The next morning we had church, then drove a couple hours to a place called Aguila Arizona where we had some wonderful fellowship, then drove back to Las Vegas where we would catch our flight home the next morning.
It was already past midnight when we got in, and having preached twice and driven for about seven hours that day, I was as exhausted as a man can get.
I was asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow, and once again the same dream began to play out. Just as the wolves were ready to attack and take down the buck I was awoken by a loud noise coming from the pullout sofa in the room. It was Gene. He was snoring.
I was halfway to throwing a pillow at Gene and telling him to roll over, when I saw the man standing at the foot of the bed, arms crossed over his chest, and a half smile on his face.
‘Ask your question,’ he said.
‘Why can’t I see what happens? Why can’t I see the end of the dream?’ I asked.
‘Because it is inconsequential,’ he answered.
‘The instant the animal wandered off the path and wounded itself, its end was a certain and foregone conclusion. It matters not which wolf fells it. Once it is felled, they will all feast. The same can be said of this nation with one exception. The animal had no one to help it, this nation rejected the help offered it believing it could heal its own self of the wounds it had inflicted upon itself. The wolves have gathered. They sense the weakness, they smell the blood, and they are confident in the outcome of their endeavor.’
In an instant the man was gone, and I found myself standing halfway out of bed with a pillow in my hand pondering what I had just heard.
We reject repentance at our own peril. We reject righteousness, sanctification and the pursuit of holiness to our own detriment. Though there is safety on the narrow path we’ve taken it upon ourselves to blaze our own trail, indifferent to the untold perils and dangers awaiting those who stray.
I wish with all my heart I could write happy things in my letter to you today, I wish I could tell you the sun will come out tomorrow and the storm clouds will pass, but our refusal to accept God’s help, our refusal to submit and humble ourselves before Him only hastens judgment.
The wolves have gathered, the hunt begins, and this weakened nation is the prey.
I will now repeat what I preached on during one of the aforementioned meetings because I believe it is relevant, timely, and apropos. The level of your relationship with Christ today, will determine whether you stand or fall by the wayside tomorrow. Know that you are resting in Him, know that you draw your strength from Him, and know that you have placed your hope and trust in Him.
On Christ the solid rock we stand, for truly, all other ground is sinking sand.
Psalm 124:6-8, “Blessed be the Lord, who has not given us as prey to their teeth. Our soul has escaped as a bird from the snare of the fowlers; the snare is broken and we have escaped. Our help is in the name of the Lord, who made heaven and earth.”
With love in Christ,
Michael Boldea Jr.