I had a very strange dream recently.
It left its imprint in my heart and in my mind.
In my slumbering vision of the night, my husband and I were taking a hike deep within a rugged, mature forest.
As we approached a partial clearing we could see an elderly gentlemen walking among some rustic, abandoned cabins. My husband, being a social butterfly, stopped to chat with the man, while I continued walking.
I was not hiking for long before I came into another clearing, a meadow.
The meadow floor was painted with grass that had given way to the colours of fall. An old, tired looking tree stood as if standing guard in the middle of the field. I also toke note of a large rock poking its grey, rounded nose out of the grass at the base of the tree and decided it was a perfect place to sit down.
As I sat down, the meadow began to fill up with little children. Their little legs running, making their bodies busy with activity. I noticed almost immedietly that something was odd about them, very odd indeed. It became quite obvious to my watching eye that they had no faces.
Three of the children approached me as I sat there, three little boys. Only one of them had been given a name. His name was “David”, he told me. The other two children accompanying him, stood there faceless, like blank canvases void of detail and colour. While my eyes were missing their expressions, my ears could hear what their faces could not tell me.
They were in deep, soul agonizing pain over having no name, no identity, no home.
I managed to give the second child the name “Josiah”, but by the time I turned to the third child all I could do was pick him up and cradle him with the arms of a mother comforting her child. I began to weep, not with any kind of ordinary weeping, but a weeping that surged itself through the muscles of my heart, a riveting pain for all the children running lost in the dream world meadow. I was so transliterated into the dream that I literally awoke from my tears.
I lay there quietly.The clock told me it was the middle of the night. The only sound to be heard were the snores coming from my husband’s tired body.
I couldn’t sleep.
My heart was in pain and my mind awakened by the “movie” I had just found myself in the middle of.
I pondered what life details had found themselves colliding in my sleeping mind without my consent? My curiosity led me further, was my dream symbolic of the restlessness of mankind searching for identity and purpose and a sense of “home”?
How many children (adults) are really truly lost?
How many children (adults) are longing for “home’? HOW MANY ORPHANS ARE THERE?
Are they longing for identity that comes from a name given only by God?
Jesus says in the book of John; “I am the GOOD Shepherd; I KNOW my sheep and my sheep know me–just as the Father knows me and I know the Father–I lay down my life FOR THE SHEEP” (Jn. 10:14-15). Earlier in that same chapter Jesus said: “The man who enters by the gate is the shepherd of his sheep. The watchman opens the gate for him, and the sheep LISTEN to HIS voice. He calls His own sheep BY NAME and leads them out, He goes on ahead of them, and His sheep follow him BECAUSE they KNOW HIS voice” (Jn. 10:1-18, read for full context).
In Psalm 139 David writes of the intimate knowledge God has of us; in verses 17-18 he writes of God’s thoughts for us outnumbering the grains of sand; in verse 16 he writes that EVERY one of our days were written before even one day of our lives existed Also in Matthew 10:30 Jesus states that “even the hairs of (our) head(s) are ALL NUMBERED.”
Isn’t possible that God, the Master of miniture details, has a name FOR YOU? A name given to YOU, to define YOU? A name given to prove that you have a unique identity in His eyes?
Names were not careless give-aways in the Word of God, they were given BECAUSE of their meaning.
I know my God-given name. I asked this of my Creator and He answered! I can tell you that HIS name for me unseated every lie I had ever believed about myself; I am desired and I am loved and I am held by arms that will never let me go.
Are you a frantic, faceless child running with a heart of pain and no identity?
I encourage you to turn to Jesus, HE is the shepherd waiting for you; He is the ONLY one who can and will paint your life with identity.
May your encounter with the “Good Shepherd” rock your world, and may your running be the result of freedom instead of frantic searching.
May we receive answers of our own identity so that we may love every orphan into theirs.