I Dreamed of Death

I dreamed last night that I was in prison for being a Christian. My latest appearance before the council had only secured my death sentence. I couldn't believe how real this felt and how fearful and courageous I'd felt all at once. The moments were ticking away and the council ordered that I be prepared for execution. None this seemed to bother me, only strengthen my resolve and encourage my excitement of things yet to come. The cell mate I had, a total stranger who shared my sentence, began to dream with me what our immediate future would be like. He described our short pain, our entering into death, and then the light. He described the confusion and the clarity, the surroundings, the sights. And then he described Jesus. I couldn't contain myself when I realized what a wretch I still am. In all my courage, all my defiance of this world and it's evils, and in all my revelry I surmounted to failure. The guard came to the door just then and called for me. Barely able to still my sobs, I stood, begged a prayer of forgiveness and entered the door into darkness. Today I learned my failures are shadowed by His successes. My fear is driven out by His love. My weakness illuminates the perfection of His strength.