It was her prayer, she dreamed, he was ill, a warrior, much loved, if only, she dreams the cure, the laying of hands, she can see it clearly, another has to dream it, her prayer has to be heard, a journey is taken, the head is out of shape but the heart is strong, she prays intently, a devoted daughter, a mother, they all believe, but she is not giving up, he dismounts from the RV, they shake hands, he understand why she is there, to give him the healing. A burst of light unlike anything, he puts his hands on his face, they pray, the face recovers its shape, word gets out, the miracle she prayed for, her faith he said. It was a scene of old in the modern world. How could it be, he saw her dream, the old warrior got a relief, The light is intense, but that’s what Spirit is, light.
Solomon reflected on the dream, so vivid it had to be real, the need for miracles in a time of uncertainty, the righteous needed victories. The words made it real, he wrote it often, it wasn’t an entitlement; it was a gift, words. How do you use them, it was the same as the laying of hands. What was the fastest route to a response, a big question, and it explained so much, it was hard for many to understand. Movies, had the answers, but other fears quelled the thirst, good old fear. In times of great change, the sheep needed help, good shepherds. In the old days they were fearless, understood, real time demons, and the threat they posed. Well, when Spirit arrives, the odds change.
Death is never the end; only demons fear it, amen.
paddypicasso 