A DIFFERENT AND BETTER CHOICE

My father
& me

I have always had a good imagination, beginning in early childhood. My father often ruffled my hair and referred to me as his daydreamer. My mother often yanked my ear and called me a scatterbrain. A strong imagination can be a blessing, it can also be a curse. 

A dream is worth dreaming when it brings beauty to

life but not when it causes pain. To hope in a hope that can not be or will not happen is no hope at all. I hoped for love and it was beautiful because it was possible and it came true.

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.

No thank you. I choose a different and better reality: Jesus Christ.