The past few days I’ve asked a few questions in my Facebook status updates. They were related to fear and were in the form of questions. Here they are again:
1. What are your fears?
2. What do your fears keep you from accomplishing?
3. Do your fears motivate you?
4. Are fears irrational?
I’d like to explore this topic a little further. There are many types of fear. Some are healthy and some are not. Fear of walking out in traffic and getting hit by a car. That’s a form of a healthy fear. Some fears are irrational. I’d like to tell you about one of my most irrational fears. I have a fear of public restrooms. You know, the ones in the mall or shopping centers. I have always been afraid of being robbed or mugged in one. I know it’s weird. But I’m afraid someone will come up behind me while I’m standing at the urinal. I always picture this big, scary looking guy pushing me into the wall, and stealing my wallet while I’m trying to pee. Even at church, I look over my shoulder to make sure some wacked-out, demonic deacon isn’t lurking in the shadows waiting for an opportune time. It seems like there’s always a child-molester looking guy in the bathroom every time I walk in! If it’s a test – I fail every time. Sometimes I think about facing the other way so someone can’t sneak up on me. This would be a good time for a visual image. Can you see me with my back to the urinal?
I’m more concerned with the unhealthy fears that keep us from fulfilling God’s purpose for our lives. As Christians, we know God is not the author of crippling fear. So where does this type of fear come from?
For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power and of love and of a sound mind
2 Timothy 1:7
It comes from Satan – our enemy. Remember, we are in a spiritual war against the forces of darkness. Our enemy uses unhealthy fear against us. In fact, I believe FEAR is one of his most often used tactics. Satan wants us defeated, and stagnant because of fear. He uses our minds against us causing worry, doubt and fear to keep us from serving God effectively.
Too many times we give into a spirit of fearI have come to believe that the word fear is one of the three real F-Words. We need to shout these F-Words over and over. I think it works like this: Forgiveness, another F-Word, leads to Freedom, another F-Word. Freedom in Christ comes through true repentance by His work on the cross. When Christ sacrificed Himself, He gave us Freedom through Forgiveness. We are not bound by fear any longer because His finished work on the cross allowed freedom to take away all fear through forgiveness.
So really, fear has been defeated. But still so many Christians live defeated and crippled spiritually because of fear. Fear grows out of doubt which grows out of worry. I think that’s why the Apostle Paul mentioned we should be anxious for nothing. Christ Himself said do not worry
The spirit of fear mentioned in 2 Timothy 1:7 is not healthy. This fear blocks what God has given us: His power, love and sound mind. This fear grips us with doubts and insecurities, waging war with our thoughts and feelings. Fear is one of the greatest weapons Satan uses against us. He attacks our minds. He tells us that we are no good, unworthy, unloved and useless.
How can we fight against these thoughts? By believing the truth of the second part of the verse. God has given us power, love and a sound mind through His Spirit.
Are you dealing with fears today that are gripping you so tightly that you feel helpless and hopeless? How can these fears be conquered? Start by praying for the Lord to open your mind and help you understand how to use the power given by His Holy Spirit.
Perfect love casts out fear -1 John 4:18. The real dynamic duo – Power and Love! Together like Oreo’s and milk.
I sought the Lord, and He answered me, and delivered me from all my fearsPsalm 34:4-7
The Lord is my helper; I will not fear. What can man do to meHebrews 13:6
The opposite of fear is freedom. We have ultimate freedom through the power of Jesus Christ. His freedom comes through true repentance.
Forgiveness leads to Freedom, casting out all fear through His perfect love. Forgiveness comes through true repentance leading us to admit we have sinned. Repentance requires true brokenness. Repentance is NOT asking the Lord for forgiveness with the intent to sin again. Repentance is an honest, regretful acknowledgement of sin with commitment to change.
Besides public restrooms, my biggest fear is that I will somehow miss God’s calling and not fulfill His will for my life.
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
Sunday, March 21, 2010
Jesus Passed By
The simple, seemingly not so important phrases of the Bible have always fascinated me. Most preachers focus on the more obvious themes, beliefs and concepts taught in Scripture. This is not a bad thing; we need to focus on the obvious. I’m interested in the obscure, minor, and downright weird sentences in the Bible. I’m going to mention two I found particularly strange … until God showed me what they actually mean.
The first is found in Hebrews 11:21 - One verse that has a weird ending.
By faith Jacob as he was dying, blessed each of the sons of Joseph, and worshipped leaning on the top of his staff.
The last part of that verse says “leaning on the top of his staff.” I always wondered why it was important to tell readers an old man needed a staff. Isn’t that obvious? Lots of old people need assistance to get around, right? How many people do we see walking with a crutch? I’ve discovered when all else fails, as God what He meant. He might just tell you.
In order to understand the significance of leaning on the top of his staff at the end of Jacob’s life, we have to take a look at the middle of his life. I’m sure you remember the Old Testament story of when Jacob wrestled the angel one night. He was running from his brother, had a dream and got into a fight – with an angel. The angel touched his hip – probably dislocating it. So what, right? I’m sure if I fought an angel I’d come out with more than a dislocated hip!
The spiritual application is really quite simple. Once touched by God we will not walk the same. When God changes, transforms and renews, we are not able to walk the way we did before. In Joseph’s case that was physical and spiritual. Even at the end of his life, he still walked differently. He limped, needed a staff and walked different. Meeting God = walking differently.
The second phrase that has been puzzling and strange is found in Mark 6:48:
And seeing them straining at the oars, for the wind was against them, at about the fourth watch of the night, He came to them walking on the sea; and He intended to pass by them.
I’ve always wondered why Jesus was intending to pass by His disciples when they were in obvious need of saving. They were fighting a fierce storm, straining to row against the wind – fighting for their lives. And here’s Jesus on a midnight stroll on top of the water. Just having a good time, jamming to the tunes in His head. You know, the ones we listen to on our ipods. They were in a crisis. In fact, it was His fault! I’m not kidding, read the text. He sent them into the boat and told them to row across the Sea of Galilee. He sent his closest friends into a life threatening storm. And then He has the audacity and arrogance to pass by them seeming not to want to help.
Obviously, I know that wasn’t what God wanted to teach through the phrase intended to pass by them. So I’ve wondered why it was important to tell us that. Then I looked it up. There’s a good lesson. If you want to know what something means go study it. He wasn’t trying to beat them to the other side. He wasn’t trying to impress them with another miracle. He wasn’t even trying to teach them He was in control.
This phrase is known as a THEOPHANY. I’ll try to explain. Remember, I am not a Greek scholar. The Greek verb to pass by used in this text, is a translation of theophanys; which is a defining moment when God reveals Himself on Earth. Here are some other Theophany’s: God hid Moses in a crack on the mountain rocks so He could pass by revealing a glimpse of His glory. God told Elijah to stand on the mountain because He was about to pass by.
Back to the disciples in the boat, in the storm Jesus sent them into, God Himself intentionally passed by. Wow, I hope you catch the significance of the meaning. I used to think this text simply meant Jesus wanted His disciples to ask for help. Not any more. He knew they needed help. And at the moment they needed Him most, He showed up with a glimpse of His glory, revealing His power over the storm.
I’m sure now you understand the spiritual application. God understands the storm you are facing. In fact, He may have sent you into the storm. In the middle of the worst storm life is throwing at you, God will show up intending to pass by, revealing a glimpse of His glory.
Since we now know the storms of life are beating us back and forth, up and down and all around. I pray we all see God’s glory revealed as He passes by. Bring the wind, water, waves, storms and troubles of life because in them we see God’s glory and that’s what it’s all about. As I wrote that sentence, I started singing the Hokey Pokey.
May the God of Heaven intend to pass by us today.
The first is found in Hebrews 11:21 - One verse that has a weird ending.
By faith Jacob as he was dying, blessed each of the sons of Joseph, and worshipped leaning on the top of his staff.
The last part of that verse says “leaning on the top of his staff.” I always wondered why it was important to tell readers an old man needed a staff. Isn’t that obvious? Lots of old people need assistance to get around, right? How many people do we see walking with a crutch? I’ve discovered when all else fails, as God what He meant. He might just tell you.
In order to understand the significance of leaning on the top of his staff at the end of Jacob’s life, we have to take a look at the middle of his life. I’m sure you remember the Old Testament story of when Jacob wrestled the angel one night. He was running from his brother, had a dream and got into a fight – with an angel. The angel touched his hip – probably dislocating it. So what, right? I’m sure if I fought an angel I’d come out with more than a dislocated hip!
The spiritual application is really quite simple. Once touched by God we will not walk the same. When God changes, transforms and renews, we are not able to walk the way we did before. In Joseph’s case that was physical and spiritual. Even at the end of his life, he still walked differently. He limped, needed a staff and walked different. Meeting God = walking differently.
The second phrase that has been puzzling and strange is found in Mark 6:48:
And seeing them straining at the oars, for the wind was against them, at about the fourth watch of the night, He came to them walking on the sea; and He intended to pass by them.
I’ve always wondered why Jesus was intending to pass by His disciples when they were in obvious need of saving. They were fighting a fierce storm, straining to row against the wind – fighting for their lives. And here’s Jesus on a midnight stroll on top of the water. Just having a good time, jamming to the tunes in His head. You know, the ones we listen to on our ipods. They were in a crisis. In fact, it was His fault! I’m not kidding, read the text. He sent them into the boat and told them to row across the Sea of Galilee. He sent his closest friends into a life threatening storm. And then He has the audacity and arrogance to pass by them seeming not to want to help.
Obviously, I know that wasn’t what God wanted to teach through the phrase intended to pass by them. So I’ve wondered why it was important to tell us that. Then I looked it up. There’s a good lesson. If you want to know what something means go study it. He wasn’t trying to beat them to the other side. He wasn’t trying to impress them with another miracle. He wasn’t even trying to teach them He was in control.
This phrase is known as a THEOPHANY. I’ll try to explain. Remember, I am not a Greek scholar. The Greek verb to pass by used in this text, is a translation of theophanys; which is a defining moment when God reveals Himself on Earth. Here are some other Theophany’s: God hid Moses in a crack on the mountain rocks so He could pass by revealing a glimpse of His glory. God told Elijah to stand on the mountain because He was about to pass by.
Back to the disciples in the boat, in the storm Jesus sent them into, God Himself intentionally passed by. Wow, I hope you catch the significance of the meaning. I used to think this text simply meant Jesus wanted His disciples to ask for help. Not any more. He knew they needed help. And at the moment they needed Him most, He showed up with a glimpse of His glory, revealing His power over the storm.
I’m sure now you understand the spiritual application. God understands the storm you are facing. In fact, He may have sent you into the storm. In the middle of the worst storm life is throwing at you, God will show up intending to pass by, revealing a glimpse of His glory.
Since we now know the storms of life are beating us back and forth, up and down and all around. I pray we all see God’s glory revealed as He passes by. Bring the wind, water, waves, storms and troubles of life because in them we see God’s glory and that’s what it’s all about. As I wrote that sentence, I started singing the Hokey Pokey.
May the God of Heaven intend to pass by us today.
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
God is an Amateur
God is an amateur! That may sound contradictory with what you may think of God but I’m sure He is an amateur. Amateur comes from a Latin word amator, meaning to love. It was also adapted from the French word amare - simply meaning for the love of something. I’m sure you get it now. God is an amateur because He provided a way for us to reach Him because he loves us. Jesus Christ paid the penalty for our sin just for the love of something. He’s an amateur. God loves you just like you are but He loves you too much to leave you that way. I’m reminded of the Gospel song I’m a Nobody by the Williams Brothers. I think it came out in the early 80’s.
I’m just a nobody trying to tell everybody about somebody who can save anybody.
– Just for the love of it.
I’m just a nobody trying to tell everybody about somebody who can save anybody.
– Just for the love of it.
Stuff
Obama has to be ignorant. He's considering a ban on recreational fishing in some areas! How stupid? Canada did something similar with bear hunting and it has crippled their tourism industry. Yea, it's a good idea to continue following Canada with their great healthcare system and all. St. Patrick's Day is coming up next week. I can't wait to wear green and look for Leprechaun's. I've started reading Dear John by Nicholas Sparks but can't seem to get into it. That reminds me that James Patterson's next Maximum Ride adventure, Fang, comes out next week. Now that's a series I'm into. Here's another thought ..... Do you think Christians avoid their responsibility to share their faith because they rationalize by saying they are gifted in other areas? Or that sometimes it's enough just to be nice to others. The command to witness is to all Christians not just those who seem to be more naturally comfortable sharing their faith with others. If you're not comfortable witnessing, maybe it's because your just a casual Christian giving lip service to the God who sacrificed everything to save you. Have you ever gone fishing? I've been fishing since I was probably about 2 years old. There's really nothing better than landing a good size Cobia, King Mackeral or Amberjack. You should try it before it's illegal. Gotta love this land of the free. If you're really bored log onto www.authonomy.com, register and search for me by name. You'll find two stories I've written. They're not that good but may be a good timewaster. Leave your feedback.
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
Shattered Veil - Chapter One
The following is chapter one of my new story. Whadaya think? It hasn't been edited so I'm sure the grammar is atrocious.
Holding one of my father’s old journals brought to life a painful memory long buried in my mind. The soft, black leather journal, filled with fantasy and magical stories from my father’s youth felt awkward and unfamiliar. My mind, flooding with memories, felt heavy and tired as I eagerly read page after page. His hopes, dreams and prayers for me scribbled in handwriting I had not seen in years. Sliding my right hand over the black India ink made me feel as if he were still alive; still teaching me the craft.
I am a third generation illusionist, magician and stage performer. My father, Charles Black, mesmerized audiences for over thirty years, winning every award known to magicians. He was named Magician of the Year twice and Las Vegas Performer of the Year three times. Known for cutting edge imagery, classic illusions and straight up magic, he dominated the craft – our craft.
Following in his footsteps, I learned from the best; watching his every move. Training and studying with the world’s best illusionists and magicians paid off. I have the top rated stage show in the world and a hit television show. Selling out the theatre night after night for three years confirms the critics are right – my father passed the torch to me and I’m on top of the world.
Not really, my father died three days ago. He was 87 and had been living in a nursing home the past two years. Alzheimer’s took his memory and ability to communicate. He had not known me for over a year. I visited twice weekly. He thought I was an entertainer the home brought in to perform magic tricks for the residents. Painfully, I watched his strong hands wither into frail, bony appendages once called fingers.
Turning another page in his journal, my heart sank. He had written about a conversation I wanted to forget. The entry dated – August 1, 1985. The day we argued. The day I told him I didn’t believe in spirits, demons, angels or any other magical creature God supposedly created. I can still see his eyes, filled with tears and hurt. Reading his entry broke my heart again.
Although, we moved on from that conversation and our relationship was strong and vibrant, he longed for me to believe what he believed. Ghosts and goblins are at the bottom of my list. To me, magic is illusion, slight of hand, not real. To dad, It was real. He believed in what he called the spiritual world. I believe in the physical world.
Most of his possessions had been stored in my house since he moved into the nursing home. Except for his clothes, family photos, important personal possessions and one black trunk. It was in the truck, I found his journals. With shaking hands and tearful eyes, I read over his life. He was even more amazing than I ever imagined.
The house had been empty about four hours. Hundreds of people stopped by after the funeral all asking me if I was okay. If I hear that question again, I’ll scream. The silence of my empty home was louder than ever. Alone with my memories and regrets, I walked into the kitchen. Still carrying his journal, I marveled at the food. It looked as if someone catered a party for three hundred people. Two roasted turkeys sat next to three baked hams. There were more casseroles than I had ever seen before – at least thirty. Casseroles aren’t my thing. I wonder what leftover scraps people mix together and bake, calling it a casserole.
My dad loved Thanksgiving. That’s probably why there was turkey, ham, dressing, sweet potatoes, corn, beans and enough bread for an army. Sitting at my kitchen table, I read my dad’s account of my first Thanksgiving. I was only three months old. Reading about my mother’s happiness only made me miss her more. She died when I was fifteen. My dad said that’s when I stopped believing in magic.
Roberta Sanchez, my housekeeper, said she would come early tomorrow morning to clean the kitchen. I told her not to worry that I could clean. She insisted I wouldn’t do it right so she was coming about six. I’m tired I thought. Not sleeping for seventy-two hours will do that to you.
My feet felt as if they weighed one hundred pounds as I consciously had to make myself pick them up one by one to walk up the stairs to my bedroom. Resting at my bedroom door, I glanced at his journal again. Clutching it tightly in my hand felt as if I clutched him; like he was still alive. Knowing I needed to sleep, I continued reading. My first birthday, the first card trick he taught me, and the first illusion I performed on my own.
Blinking longer and longer, my gaze grew blurry as I nodded to sleep. Occasionally, I opened, focused and tried to continue. It was like reading a great novel, except it was his life; my life. A life I had somehow forgotten.
Sleep won and I finally crashed; falling into deep sleep. The dream came quickly just like before. The dream is what kept me awake the past three days. It was so real and scary the last time I slept, I never wanted to sleep again. He’s coming. I hear the hoof beats in the distance. The rhythmic tribal clumping repeated over and over gaining volume as the rider approached. He’s coming, the voice said again. “No,” I shouted out loud in my sleep.
The hoof clumping stopped as I looked into the deep blue eyes of the rider. His eyes were as clear as crystal and deep as the ocean. The most perfect shade of clear blue I had ever seen. His presence shook the ground. Reaching his hand toward mine, he said, “Let’s go, Daniel.” No one but my parents called me Daniel. In school, I was known as Danny. And my stage name was Black. No first name, just Black. It was because my performances had become dark over time, more and more sinister. Darkness was always around.
The rider, he was light. He seemed to glow. This time, I took his hand when he reached my direction. Lifting me onto the back of his saddle, I realized his power and strength. Without another word, he popped the reins, kicked his feet into the sides of the massive horse and like lightning we were racing. Racing into nothing with, clouds all around. Looking down, I realized we weren’t on the ground. We were flying. There was no sound either. The tribal beating of the hoofs had been replaced with the sound of nothing – just wind blowing in our faces. Yet, I couldn’t hear a sound.
Just then, we left the clouds behind. We were definitely flying, as I noticed the world below. “Space, we’re in space,” I shouted. He said nothing. I could hear myself screaming in my head but still no sound could be heard. Seemingly suspended between Heaven and Earth, I caught myself marveling at the vast ocean and land mass. It wasn’t as bright as I had seen in satellite photos from NASA.
Quickly we descended. The beast was flying but didn’t have wings. The rider seemed to control the thoughts of the horse, guiding it to the ground. Hearing the familiar thundering hoof beats let me know we safely landed. Looking around, I realized this wasn’t Las Vegas.
“Where are we?”
Looking into his fiery eyes, I knew this was my stop. Climbing down, I asked again, “Who are you?”
“I will come back when it’s time.”
Marveling at his presence, I watched in amazement as he flew into the night. Looking up, I noticed more stars than I had ever seen. Their brilliance shown as if all the electricity from the earth had been given to the sky.
At this moment, the street was full of people talking. It was immediately busy, like they appeared from nowhere. Trying to blend in and figure out where I was became my first priority. Hoping I was safe, hoping I would wake from this nightmare soon.
Looking across the street, I noticed what appeared to be an old world market, like something you would see depicting ancient Egypt or Arabia. It was closed for the night. The huts covered in blankets along with the carts pushed close to the entrances gave it away.
I continued walking down the street looking for a place to hide or sleep or really a place to wake up. As I walked, I listened to the people speak a foreign language. It was like nothing I had heard. Yet, strangely, I found myself understanding what they were saying. Apparently, there was a new magician in town. How ironic I would dream about a magician I thought.
Following, two men closely, I listened. This magician grew up here and was back in town performing. I noticed what looked like a hotel. Walking across the street, I was nearly run over by a man riding in a chariot behind two horses. He was moving quickly but not as quick as my ride I thought as he roared past.
Finding myself at the counter checking into the hotel was like an out of body experience. I watched from behind as I checked into a room.
“Breakfast is at sunrise,” the dark-skinned man said.
“Thank you.”
Not wanting to seem like a fool or terrorist, I didn’t ask the obvious questions like “Where am I? What year is this?” Things like that needed to be kept quiet. Handing me a lantern and a pouch made of animal skin, he smiled. Sensing my confusion, he motioned to use the liquid in the pouch to refill the lantern. It was oil. Using the lantern as my only source of light, I followed a servant to my room.
Bowing before he left, the young man backed toward the door, never letting my eyes catch his. It was as if he knew he was inferior. Lighting a lamp on a small wooden bedside stand, I lay on my back. Looking at the thatch ceiling, I desperately wanted to sleep or wake up, whichever took me home.
Holding one of my father’s old journals brought to life a painful memory long buried in my mind. The soft, black leather journal, filled with fantasy and magical stories from my father’s youth felt awkward and unfamiliar. My mind, flooding with memories, felt heavy and tired as I eagerly read page after page. His hopes, dreams and prayers for me scribbled in handwriting I had not seen in years. Sliding my right hand over the black India ink made me feel as if he were still alive; still teaching me the craft.
I am a third generation illusionist, magician and stage performer. My father, Charles Black, mesmerized audiences for over thirty years, winning every award known to magicians. He was named Magician of the Year twice and Las Vegas Performer of the Year three times. Known for cutting edge imagery, classic illusions and straight up magic, he dominated the craft – our craft.
Following in his footsteps, I learned from the best; watching his every move. Training and studying with the world’s best illusionists and magicians paid off. I have the top rated stage show in the world and a hit television show. Selling out the theatre night after night for three years confirms the critics are right – my father passed the torch to me and I’m on top of the world.
Not really, my father died three days ago. He was 87 and had been living in a nursing home the past two years. Alzheimer’s took his memory and ability to communicate. He had not known me for over a year. I visited twice weekly. He thought I was an entertainer the home brought in to perform magic tricks for the residents. Painfully, I watched his strong hands wither into frail, bony appendages once called fingers.
Turning another page in his journal, my heart sank. He had written about a conversation I wanted to forget. The entry dated – August 1, 1985. The day we argued. The day I told him I didn’t believe in spirits, demons, angels or any other magical creature God supposedly created. I can still see his eyes, filled with tears and hurt. Reading his entry broke my heart again.
Although, we moved on from that conversation and our relationship was strong and vibrant, he longed for me to believe what he believed. Ghosts and goblins are at the bottom of my list. To me, magic is illusion, slight of hand, not real. To dad, It was real. He believed in what he called the spiritual world. I believe in the physical world.
Most of his possessions had been stored in my house since he moved into the nursing home. Except for his clothes, family photos, important personal possessions and one black trunk. It was in the truck, I found his journals. With shaking hands and tearful eyes, I read over his life. He was even more amazing than I ever imagined.
The house had been empty about four hours. Hundreds of people stopped by after the funeral all asking me if I was okay. If I hear that question again, I’ll scream. The silence of my empty home was louder than ever. Alone with my memories and regrets, I walked into the kitchen. Still carrying his journal, I marveled at the food. It looked as if someone catered a party for three hundred people. Two roasted turkeys sat next to three baked hams. There were more casseroles than I had ever seen before – at least thirty. Casseroles aren’t my thing. I wonder what leftover scraps people mix together and bake, calling it a casserole.
My dad loved Thanksgiving. That’s probably why there was turkey, ham, dressing, sweet potatoes, corn, beans and enough bread for an army. Sitting at my kitchen table, I read my dad’s account of my first Thanksgiving. I was only three months old. Reading about my mother’s happiness only made me miss her more. She died when I was fifteen. My dad said that’s when I stopped believing in magic.
Roberta Sanchez, my housekeeper, said she would come early tomorrow morning to clean the kitchen. I told her not to worry that I could clean. She insisted I wouldn’t do it right so she was coming about six. I’m tired I thought. Not sleeping for seventy-two hours will do that to you.
My feet felt as if they weighed one hundred pounds as I consciously had to make myself pick them up one by one to walk up the stairs to my bedroom. Resting at my bedroom door, I glanced at his journal again. Clutching it tightly in my hand felt as if I clutched him; like he was still alive. Knowing I needed to sleep, I continued reading. My first birthday, the first card trick he taught me, and the first illusion I performed on my own.
Blinking longer and longer, my gaze grew blurry as I nodded to sleep. Occasionally, I opened, focused and tried to continue. It was like reading a great novel, except it was his life; my life. A life I had somehow forgotten.
Sleep won and I finally crashed; falling into deep sleep. The dream came quickly just like before. The dream is what kept me awake the past three days. It was so real and scary the last time I slept, I never wanted to sleep again. He’s coming. I hear the hoof beats in the distance. The rhythmic tribal clumping repeated over and over gaining volume as the rider approached. He’s coming, the voice said again. “No,” I shouted out loud in my sleep.
The hoof clumping stopped as I looked into the deep blue eyes of the rider. His eyes were as clear as crystal and deep as the ocean. The most perfect shade of clear blue I had ever seen. His presence shook the ground. Reaching his hand toward mine, he said, “Let’s go, Daniel.” No one but my parents called me Daniel. In school, I was known as Danny. And my stage name was Black. No first name, just Black. It was because my performances had become dark over time, more and more sinister. Darkness was always around.
The rider, he was light. He seemed to glow. This time, I took his hand when he reached my direction. Lifting me onto the back of his saddle, I realized his power and strength. Without another word, he popped the reins, kicked his feet into the sides of the massive horse and like lightning we were racing. Racing into nothing with, clouds all around. Looking down, I realized we weren’t on the ground. We were flying. There was no sound either. The tribal beating of the hoofs had been replaced with the sound of nothing – just wind blowing in our faces. Yet, I couldn’t hear a sound.
Just then, we left the clouds behind. We were definitely flying, as I noticed the world below. “Space, we’re in space,” I shouted. He said nothing. I could hear myself screaming in my head but still no sound could be heard. Seemingly suspended between Heaven and Earth, I caught myself marveling at the vast ocean and land mass. It wasn’t as bright as I had seen in satellite photos from NASA.
Quickly we descended. The beast was flying but didn’t have wings. The rider seemed to control the thoughts of the horse, guiding it to the ground. Hearing the familiar thundering hoof beats let me know we safely landed. Looking around, I realized this wasn’t Las Vegas.
“Where are we?”
Looking into his fiery eyes, I knew this was my stop. Climbing down, I asked again, “Who are you?”
“I will come back when it’s time.”
Marveling at his presence, I watched in amazement as he flew into the night. Looking up, I noticed more stars than I had ever seen. Their brilliance shown as if all the electricity from the earth had been given to the sky.
At this moment, the street was full of people talking. It was immediately busy, like they appeared from nowhere. Trying to blend in and figure out where I was became my first priority. Hoping I was safe, hoping I would wake from this nightmare soon.
Looking across the street, I noticed what appeared to be an old world market, like something you would see depicting ancient Egypt or Arabia. It was closed for the night. The huts covered in blankets along with the carts pushed close to the entrances gave it away.
I continued walking down the street looking for a place to hide or sleep or really a place to wake up. As I walked, I listened to the people speak a foreign language. It was like nothing I had heard. Yet, strangely, I found myself understanding what they were saying. Apparently, there was a new magician in town. How ironic I would dream about a magician I thought.
Following, two men closely, I listened. This magician grew up here and was back in town performing. I noticed what looked like a hotel. Walking across the street, I was nearly run over by a man riding in a chariot behind two horses. He was moving quickly but not as quick as my ride I thought as he roared past.
Finding myself at the counter checking into the hotel was like an out of body experience. I watched from behind as I checked into a room.
“Breakfast is at sunrise,” the dark-skinned man said.
“Thank you.”
Not wanting to seem like a fool or terrorist, I didn’t ask the obvious questions like “Where am I? What year is this?” Things like that needed to be kept quiet. Handing me a lantern and a pouch made of animal skin, he smiled. Sensing my confusion, he motioned to use the liquid in the pouch to refill the lantern. It was oil. Using the lantern as my only source of light, I followed a servant to my room.
Bowing before he left, the young man backed toward the door, never letting my eyes catch his. It was as if he knew he was inferior. Lighting a lamp on a small wooden bedside stand, I lay on my back. Looking at the thatch ceiling, I desperately wanted to sleep or wake up, whichever took me home.
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