Telling Jesus about a dream I had: . . . So in the dream, I was going out with a group of friends, and he was there—my husband, the man I’m supposed to marry. He didn’t know we were supposed to get married. He didn’t even know I was in love with him. But he did walk up and kiss me.
I just stood there, smiling, kind of in shock but also really happy.
A woman showed up later. She was a friend of his, so I invited her to join us. I didn’t know her, of course, but I didn’t want her to feel bad, as if she wasn’t welcome.
She was really nice, sweet…but then she told me why she wanted to hang out with us. It was because of him, Pappa. She said—
She said they’d been texting and that the more she got to know him, the more she found herself falling for him. I was crushed. My heart was racing, and my voice—it felt like it was stuck in my throat. I couldn’t speak, so I just sat there, horrified, listening to her talk about him.
What made it worse was that this was some kind of recent development…so I’d been gone eleven months—eleven whole months—only to come back and find out that I’d run out of time. A woman was now pursuing the man I love, and I didn’t even have the courage to speak up.
That’s when I woke up. I shot up in bed, panicked, nearly in tears. I’m so scared right now. I’m scared because—Pappa, sometimes this feels like a repeat of Tom. Do You remember all of that?
I know You do. I know You authored that breakup, and that’s okay. Your ways are perfect, and I love You for them. But I didn’t know You back then, so I didn’t have anything to hold me together when everything fell apart. It was all really confusing for me, and it hurt really, really badly.
Pappa, it ripped me to pieces.
I know You love me, Lord Jesus, beyond anything I can comprehend. And logically, I know why You did what you did. But my heart—it remembers the pain. And when I started processing this dream, my heart was quick to remember all that hurt, all that frustration…everything I went through with Tom, especially toward the end.
It was like being trapped in a corridor full of doors that were shut and locked with no way to open them….
I can see myself looking at them now. My hands are out, palms up. I’m trying to figure out what to do. “Which one?” I examine the doors. “Why aren’t any of them open?”
I try a knob. Locked.
I try another. Same thing.
Now I see myself with Tom. We’re walking down the corridor, hand in hand—I’m leading, he’s following. Doors, so many doors. All of them closed. All of them locked.
My heart grows heavy. The joy and hope I once had for us—a chance at being together, of having a normal relationship—are quickly disappearing. Each and every failed attempt to open a door feels like someone is carving out my insides. A void, like a black hole spinning in my gut, is all that remains.
I quicken my steps, tightening my grip on Tom’s hand. We’re running out of time. I’m not sure how I know this. It’s just this overwhelming sense of a countdown, a race to beat some clock that’s running out, and I know we’ve got to hurry.
I pick up the pace, becoming more and more frantic. Tom keeps up, though he’s still behind me, letting me lead as we search for the right door.
Shut.
Shut.
Shut.
Shut. Every single door is shut. The black hole is getting bigger. My desperation is mounting.
“There!” A door swings open. We scramble for it.
It slams shut just as we get there. I groan, frustrated, but then I take a breath. “It’s okay.” I force a smile. “We’ll find another.”
And we do, and it’s open—but only a crack. I sprint, dragging Tom. His feet lag. He’s no longer keeping up. His drive is clearly gone. So is his excitement.
My heart swells with sadness then turns to glass. Crack! My whole chest begins to shatter, breaking apart piece by piece. My heart fills with sorrow and slowly sinks into the black hole. He’s starting to give up.
I don’t want him to give up. I want us to keep going. This door is already ajar. If we can just get it open a little wider….
But it won’t budge.
“No!” I push. I shove. Grunting, I throw myself against it. “Ahhh!” I hurl my fist, banging on the door, yanking at the doorknob. “Why? WHY!” I’m frustrated, and utterly and completely disheartened.
And I’m tired. I’m so tired, but I won’t quit. I can’t. It’s just not the way I’m designed. I’m too persistent, perhaps a little too stubborn.
Still, the realization of my predicament hurts. “All we need is one door.” My throat constricts. My voice breaks over each word. “Why can’t we find just one?”
Then, I see it: a door, and it’s open—not all the way, but wide enough for us to squeeze through one at a time. Elated, I dash for it. See? I tell myself. It’s fine. And once we’re on the other side, it’ll be great.
We’re almost there when I notice Tom is really dragging his feet. His expression is less than enthusiastic. Actually, he looks…defeated.
What is he doing? He can’t quit now! This is it, the chance we’ve been waiting for. Plus, he’s the one who—
I swallow past the lump in my throat. He’s the one who wanted this. A tear rolls down my cheek. He said, “Let’s give it a go.” He meant it. He had to. And—he loves me. We’ll be fine. Everything will be fine if we can just get through this—
I’m squeezing through the half-open door. Tom’s hand is in mine. I tug on him, trying to pull him through after me. “Hurry! Before it shuts!”
He stops. He drops my hand.
Hurt and confused, I look at him. “But…we made it.”
He stares at me blankly.
“Tom, we made it. We found the door. Isn’t—?” I glance around. “Isn’t this what you wanted?”
His eyes fall away. He won’t look at me, but I know, I can tell—he doesn’t want to give it a go anymore. And he doesn’t love me.
He’s done.
I stare after him as he walks off. He doesn’t look back, not even once. The black hole is so big, so heavy, it feels like death inside me. How am I supposed to go on? I fought so hard, I came all this way.
I gave this everything I had. I have nothing left.
I’m still standing in the doorway. As my eyes empty out the tears I’ve been holding back, I debate if I should continue through the door. Maybe Tom will change his mind. Maybe he’ll realize he’s made a mistake and come back. Maybe—
“No,” I whisper. The black hole is unbearable, but I know this door isn’t right for me. I have to go a different way.
Head hung, tears trickling down my face, I back out of the doorway. The door creaks shut as I step into the corridor. I don’t see the One who closes it. My heart is still blind to the truth of who He is, the One who’s really in control of this place.
It was You, Pappa. That whole time, it was You, and I THANK YOU FOR IT.
I thank You because of who You are, because Your ways are higher than my ways, because Your thoughts are higher than my thoughts. And I thank You because the man You have for me is godly and mature and understands what real love is. He knows You, Jesus. He has a relationship with You, and he won’t just give up when things get hard.
Best of all, he’s going to love me because he loves You and because he wants to honor Your name. Our relationship will be holy and good, and You will be at the center of it. I believe that. I really do.
Jesus, whatever door You shut, no man can open. I know, because I’ve experienced it for myself. But I also know that whatever door you open, no man can shut. Please reveal the door that leads to my husband and to the son You promised me. I just need it opened long enough to squeeze through.
Please, Lord Jesus. I’m asking in Your great name. Amen.
Abraham never wavered in believing God’s promise. In fact, his faith grew stronger, and in this he brought glory to God. He was fully convinced that God is able to do whatever He promises. And because of Abraham’s faith, God counted him as righteous.Romans 4:20-22
