A dream is worth dreaming when it brings beauty to
I dreamed of health but it only brought pain. But
savage attacks of multiple sclerosis also taught me that sometimes dreams were all I had. When the truth of my circumstance was too much to bear, I retreated to dreams. I dreamt of how things could have been or might have been.
It was in that dreamland that I discovered a reality on a different dimension, a dimension that made the realities of this world pale in comparison. Ironic. The Author of all reality met me in my pain and invited me to unite my suffering with His salvific suffering.
And so I replaced ethereal dreams with the
objective reality of Jesus Christ because he met me in my deepest anguish when nobody else could or would. He understood me more completely than I understood myself. He loved me when I was unlovable.
That is why my first loyalty is to Christ. That is why I speak of Him when I give speeches. A secular disability group once asked me to give a keynote address to their annual national conference. The spokesperson said, "We want you to speak but we don't want any of that Jesus crap." I responded, "If I can't speak of Christ, then I have nothing to say. He is my hope." She withdrew the invitation.
An agnostic or atheist might respond that all my talk of dreams and belief in God are nothing more than a cruel disease affecting my mind. If that be the case then leave me to my dreams, let me believe in something higher than what is here. I am content. Cynics would strip me of my belief in Christ—if it
was possible—and let me sink in despair then offer me the secular progressive's solution to my anguish: A lethal injection.
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