Another fevered dream.

This flu is still kicking my backside as of this entry being written. For the last few nights I haven’t slept very well. Hard to breathe, gippy tummy, vivid dreams.

Last night’s was a doozy, but it was an instructive one and I’m going out on a limb to analyze it here. I don’t place much stock in dreams as prophetic things or ways to understand your life. If that was the case I’d be flying an F-14 (yeah, I know, they’re gone but they were “my” airplane as a young man) and learning what it’s like to grow old with Raquel Welch since those were the two biggest dreams of my youth.

Back to the dream. I was in a huge church and for some reason I was pushed up out of the pews (commotion in the pews was not picked at random!) and into the orchestra area. Somebody handed me a saxophone. Why? I don’t know, don’t play that thing any better than the trumpet I carried around for years to placate my parents. But I did learn one thing in marching band – you don’t have to actually play the stupid thing if you march and fake it reasonably well on the valve fingering.

So there I was in the orchestra area faking my saxophone skills when a gentle presence asked why I wasn’t playing the instrument given to me? I gave some lame excuse about not knowing the “proper” way to play the sax. The presence departed and the song ended. In an instant there came a joyful noise from the loud speakers in the church – it was a song from my childhood – Rollin’ on a River by Creedence Clearwater Revival.

Link to Rollin’ on the River

Now, all due respect to Creedence, but it’s not a religious song by any means. And yet in my dream it was an expression of worship. The words soared and changed and became a testimony to God. I cried in the dream with pure joy. My voice was the one ringing out in the church. The orchestra and the saxophone were forgotten and it was just me talking to God with my uplifted voice.

I think that this is what my calling is as a Christian writer. To lift that voice, the skill God has given me, to his praise. Society handed me a trumpet and a saxophone. I don’t like to play either one and have just been faking it with them all these years. But I have a voice that will lift Him up to the Heavens in joy and that’s what I should be using.

So, today I will write. It’s what I’m called to do. It’s what brings me joy and allows me to use the special voice God has given me. Those rejection letters stacking up on the table? He didn’t send them. I will move forward.

What has He given you that you’re not using? Why are you still faking it with that silly saxophone when you could be exalting Him?

(update: I wrote this early last week right after the election. Over the course of the next three days I received two rejection letters from publishers. Both were extremely kind. I am told that of all the rejection letters you get from publishers these are about 3/4 of the way toward the prized, “We’d like to sign you” letter. One said they really weren’t doing any books like my proposal at this time. The other said my skill level wasn’t there yet. That’s cool. Both were nicely put and neither one was mean or demeaning.

I have to wonder if God was preparing me for that rejection. And it inspires me to continue onward and not give up the dream. I’m fine with being turned down here on Earth as long as when I get to the Gates of Heaven they nod and let me inside. Heck, they can even snicker or roll their eyes. Just let me in.)

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