I had a dream last night:
I dreamt that I was sitting at a restaurant table,... it must have been a buffet because I had a plate of food piled ridiculously high,… so high that a green bean tumbled down the steep slope of my mountain of food and onto the floor. One of the many hungry children who surrounded my table in their soiled, shredded clothes reached out quickly and captured the bean, complying with the 5-second rule with 4.5 seconds to spare. The other children looked upon the child (and me) with silent envy and hunger.
I continued to eat and fill my bloated frame.
Last week Robert Lewis taught the Bridge2Rwanda Scholars (and me) that among the methods by which God has revealed himself throughout history are (1) dreams and (2) Scripture. (Yes, there are a few others.)
I had a dream last night that might have vaporized without a footprint. But this morning, no doubt by mere crazy coincidence, I quite randomly opened to Isaiah 58 (6-7), which guided me to Micah 6 and on to Matthew 25: 31-46. O, how I wish I could boast of my exhilaration and inspiration by a God who is so near and active and personal. Instead I feel very heavy. But "feeling" without "doing" is meaningless. So where shall I begin? I should begin with the assignment, indeed the opportunity right in front of me.