This is just a sort of random musing, something that has been in my mind for the past week or two. Perhaps it speaks of the state of my own mind, or maybe the men with the white butterfly nets are coming to get me. Either way, like my previous I Have a Dream article, I record this for posterity.
The question that arises in this dream is "what is reality?" No, it's not the matrix, but the question remains as I drive on my way to work each morning talking to God, sometimes addressing it, sometimes not. I am no philosophy major, no big thinker. I leave the high brow intellectual questions to those better suited than I to ponder.
However, I am firmly convinced of the love of God, which I so dimly perceive. I am steadfastly adherent to the acceptance of the idea of the presence of a spiritual realm, which we understand so little of. Only the most hardened of skeptics would deny that there is a special relationship between a beloved pet and its human family. We are not just cells and matter, placed here randomly as a matter of chance.
It seems to me that we exist here for so brief a whisper, compared to the events in time that have preceded us in history. Since our visit here is fleeting and temporary, and since there is an invisible spiritual realm that exists outside our concept of time, it has occurred to me to ask this question: What if, compared with eternity, this life, this existence, is the dream, in a manner of speaking? Not that I doubt the reality of my senses, but with this in mind it seems as if the important things in life are those which we do not see. Amongst these things are our hearts, which are plainly evident before God.
But in this "dream" of sorts, we can interact with our environment. We can have effectual impact and change in our lives and the lives of others. The Apostle Paul said that we run a race (speaking of our lives) before a crowd of multitudes.
How much do we think of those things which we see, we sense, we perceive? In comparison with eternity these temporary problems seem to fade in importance, somewhat. How much of that which we do not see is just as important, and more so, than our very lives? Jesus knew, and I am so very thankful for his willing sacrifice on my, on our behalf.
Thank you, Jesus. I am yours. Make me into what you would have me be. Change me. Let me love. Let me do that which is pleasing to you. I love you.
G.Houtchens
armchair coach
amateur historian
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