It was the usual group gathered for prayer before the service was to begin, but there was a different feel about this particular morning. It was, after all, the morning the church was reopening. So, we were gathered, ready to pray. But it was odd. We were in a tiny little room. It didn’t seem unusual, actually very familiar to me. Yet, there was a strangeness. We should not have been in such a tiny little room. No one else seemed bothered by it, and I wasn’t, either, really. Just something out of place.

         We prayed together and then we went up the four steps to the pulpit area to exit the room. Wait, though, that also seemed odd. Four stairs to exit the prayer room? At the same time, it was as it should be. We always went up those steps. Strange I hadn’t noticed them before. A lot was strange, come to think of it, but everything was as it should be, too.

         We exited the prayer room into the pulpit area and I stepped up to the pulpit. Again, not quite right. A single pulpit in the middle of the area. When did we do that? I adjusted the mic and looked out. These were our people. Smiling, delighted to be back, some in masks, some not. All waiting to get started. The place was packed. But the church was small. Very small. The windows were not stained glass and they were open, letting in the breeze. Why did this seem strange and yet right at the same time? Then I realized what it was, what seemed out of kilter.

         The church building was Sandy Creek Baptist Church in Ponce de Leon, Florida. I smiled back at the folks and I felt the tension drain from my back and shoulders that had been building for the last few months. It was SO good to be back in this little building that was literally at the end of the paved road in the middle of nowhere.

         Then I jerked awake. The clock said 3:58. It was Sunday morning. The image of the church began to slide away from my mind. Quickly, before it was gone forever, I brought the dream to mind so I could remember it. It was then that I realized I was smiling. Not just a little smile, but a large, pleased smile. The first time I had come awake with a smile in two years.

         Sandy Creek church was the first church I ever actually pastored. I had been on staff before that and had acted as an interim pastor at two other churches, but Sandy Creek took a chance on a young man with a young wife and a toddler. Sandy Creek was the church that ordained me. It was a church filled with your regular church folk, some sweet and some conniving and some disinterested and a few sold out for Jesus. But it was wonderful back then.

         I learned a lot there. I learned that if we filled that place up, front to back, some of the folks would be unhappy. I didn’t understand that at all. I thought that was the point. But, maybe not. I also learned that when tragedy struck a family, the church rallied around that family with love and compassion. I learned that if I stood my ground for the Scriptures, some folks would get upset. But I also learned that if someone in the community said something bad about that young preacher or his wife, someone was going to get knocked senseless. All in all, it was a great place to start.

         So why, thirty five years after leaving that little church, did it reappear in my mind, only with Yoke folks in the pews?

         Well, I do know something about dreams. In counseling courses, we had to study dreams. Typically, dreams have common elements. Normal things like water and sky and fields. All these things mean something. They provide connection. And, usually, dreams give us familiar themes. Some of those are sweet and nice and some are terrorizing. By the time one reaches their mid-teens, the tone and theme of the dreams are pretty well defined. Major events or trauma can change the themes, but in normal circumstances, out dream types are set. Often, we see relatives or people we love. In my dreams I have a couple of people who are reoccurring characters, always themselves, but not always in a starring role. They could be driving a car that is passing by or someone you walk past. I almost never have a bad dream and never a scary dream. But some do. When they do it usually reflects back to some trauma. You can tell a lot about someone by their dreams.

         But then there are dreams that seem different. Back in 2004 my secretary, Denise, at the church I pastored in Ohio came in very troubled one morning. Her daughter, Jenny, was getting married the next year. She told me she had a dream of the wedding, or at least she thought it was the wedding. But she and her three kids, including Jenny, were sitting on the front pew and they were all dressed in black. She couldn’t stop crying and she felt so sad. Things had to get started and Frank, her husband and my friend, was not there yet. But why would she feel so sad and what was the dark clothing for? I made a joke about she was dreading the marriage, but she wasn’t. I didn’t give it much thought. Two months later, at a hospital in Cleveland, Frank died of a heart attack. He was 48. At the funeral in the church I looked down at Denise and her three kids on the front row, all in black. At that moment Denise looked up at me in alarm. It had just registered to her. Itwas exactly like her dream.

         I don’t think we really understand how the mind works, nor do we understand all the ways God deals with us. But I do believe God can use anyway to communicate with us that He wants to use.

         So, my dream. I was so excited to get back to having actual people in church rather than a virtual congregation. It was hard to sleep the night before. Perfectly understandable to dream about it. But what did Sandy Creek have to do with the situation? Did my mind take a left turn somewhere, or did the Lord choose to spark something in my mind?

         I don’t know. But it has been working around in my brain. Sandy Creek to now. Wow, a lot has happened. Soon I will be in the ministry for 45 years but, starting with Sandy Creek, I will soon be a pastor for 37 years. Serious stuff has gone on. Good and bad. I have been thinking about it, however, mostly my mind has been regretting that the one with whom I started the journey is no longer on the journey. But this dream was so happy, so joyous. There was no sadness. It did not seem to come from my mind.

         I look at it as something from the Lord. I have always been able to look back. Because my mind works the way it does, I remember things in detail. If it had come from my own memory, I should have seen Reese Haughton and Darius Blankenship and dear old Miss Mary Powell, not the crew from the Yoke. No. It was something else. This wasn’t just looking back to a time when everything was new and exciting, a time when we never considered pandemics and services on line.

         I know I am a lot closer to being done in the ministry than I am from the beginning of the ministry. Anyone who really knows me will tell you I am my own worst critic. But there was so much joy there, I have to believe that the Lord was giving me validation for my ministry. I know, and you all know, I am far from perfect. But I have always worked to do the will of the Lord. And He knows that.

         Also, the folks that were at the Yoke on Sunday morning were packed into Sandy Creek in my dream. Sandy Creek was small, maybe able to seat 45 to 50. You all fit nicely!

         God bless!