Uncle...

What I'm crying about the fact that I've felt the unction to get back to blogging my thoughts here more often, rather than putting it all into my private paper journal.

I had lunch with the wife of that man I wrote of just a post or two ago--the one who experienced my divinely-prompted prayer cover and was that "first-fruits" of the cleansing in my vision of the bars of soap. Not surprisingly, I was as much the "bless-ee" as the "bless-er" at that 2-hour Subway lunch that she and I shared. She was quite receptive to a conversation, and said they are very much people who walk by the Spirit of God, that it was rich to hear but not at all surprising to learn that God had supernaturally put me to prayer for them, because they had asked God to prompt intercessors to pray on their behalf. Then she and I proceeded into a discussion of what it is like to be a recipient of dreams and visions that are so clearly prompted by God. The natureof one of those dreams of mine, in the context of her interpretation of it, is what prompts me to return my fingers to the keyboard as a means of documenting what is happening to me--this "grooming of a prophet" business, even though that still feels like a near-lunatic thing to say.

In the dream under consideration, I stood before God, and was fitted with a cape; and the cape was covered with hands reaching upward. Once the cape was secured, I shot into the sky, flying. As I flew, the cape spread out, its hem never leaving the earth, but rather the fabric and the hands multiplied themselves and spread to fill the whole sky below me. I told her about this dream. She said what I received in that cape was indeed a mantle of anointing, a gift of calling to a particular outreach. She said she thought that the meaning of the spread of the cape was that as I grew upward into that ministry, I'd find that my gift had the power to be far-reaching, long-range in its impact. My gift would lead others to lead others--all coming into the full force of a gifting similar to my own. A prophet of prophets, so to speak. Now it feels like I come into the days when that clarity of meaning is needed, as God is indeed sending people to me who, after they hear I have dreams, literally bolster their courage and say, "You know, I had this weird dream..." It's happened four times that I can think of in the recent past in my work place. And in each case, I could share with that person how the imagery of their dreams matched things God has said to me in my own dreams. We both leave the conversation fascinated by the fruit of this interchange.

So, I'd say this: if an out-spreading is indeed to be a thing You move me into next, O God, them prepare me for it. Help me know how to document and share with others what You personally have taught me, so that others might recognize that peculiar type of "quickening" when it comes.

For example. for years, I might walk along the halls of an elementary school and see in a stairwell a red chenille pipe cleaner unwittingly dropped from some project carried by some hurrying child. Seeing that pipe cleaner would hardly draw my attention. At most, I'd pick it up as a sort of custodial duty done for the school. Not anymore. When this happened to me Friday morning, I was immendiately "reminded" of the story of how the ancients got the scarlet dye that coloted the "thread" used in their Hebrew sacrificial ceremonies. This dye came from: "...properly, the insect 'coccus ilicis', the dried body of the female yielding colouring matter from which is made the dye used for cloth to colour it scarlet or crimson." (This according to definition in Blue Letter Bible.) In greater depth, this dye came by the mother wrapping herself over the eggs of her babies while they developed on that leaf. She gave up her life to bring them to life, and the scarlet dye was released at that moment of new life. Its creation made this dye a precious commodity. That little pipe cleaner reminded me of that scarlet thread's history. Later that morning, I ended up praying with a grandmother who has a granddaughter in the hospital. The 7-month-old child is on death's doorstep, often coding daily, because of some blood and breathing disorder. That grandmother is holding up her whole family and does indeed feel like she is at the point of being a giver of scarlet. We prayed accordingly. This is how I perceive the smallest things of life now. This is how I recognize the intimate, tender care of God toward His children, and see even His quirky and creative way of pronouncing this love. It is a wonder and a mystery. It is a perception I'd happily sow into the hands of others if that were ordained to me. Guide my steps in this new terrain in the adventure of my life, O God!