A Midsummer Nightmare

A young man looked around suspiciously as he crossed the street. He had both hands tucked in his jacket, and each time he passed someone, he would tense, his shoulders rising up and his face burying deeper into the collar of his coat. His eyes darted here and there and picked up every single movement; a leaf blowing across the sidewalk, the untied shoelaces that got caught in the wheels of a ten-speed. His ears censored every sound; the tap-tap of an old woman’s cane, the clanging bells of an ice-cream vendor. The warm summer breeze gently ruffled his sleeves. There wasn’t a thing that day that he didn’t notice. That is, until the bullet hit him.

It came out of nowhere and hit him square in the chest, pushing into his left lung, just below his heart. By chance, the bullet also hit the package he had been carrying so tightly a few moments ago, scattering the contents: drugs. The kid on the bike pulled his shoelaces out of the wheels and ran, leaving the tires of his bike still spinning. The lady with the cane screamed as though she was the one that had gotten shot. The ice-cream vendor pulled out a cell phone and dialed 911, the number already saved on speed-dial. Sirens sounded in the near-by distance.

If the young man had been conscious, he would have heard the sound of feet running towards the blood-smeared sidewalk. A quick hand grasped at the bundle of drugs and ran off, a small revolver clenched in one fist. But he was out cold. His eyes saw things not of this world.

A flash of red and white swirls around him. A hand reaches out of a fiery pit, towards the dreamer, and wraps its fingers around his body. An image races through his mind but is gone before he can even register what it is. Suddenly a bright light overcomes the fire and a shapeless form walks through the flames. The Light opens His mouth and out of it comes a silver sword, with two sharp edges. He speaks and his voice sounds like a mighty trumpet and the crash of a tidal wave. ‘Jason!’ The Voice said from everywhere, ‘Get up!’ Jason, who had fallen down once the hand had dropped him, picked himself up and inched farther away from the piercing eyes.

As the figure got closer, he could see more of the profile of the Form. He had snowy white hair that cascaded down a golden-sashed chest, and He walked across the hot coals with feet that looked like refined brass. The Man was so bright, that it hurt Jason’s eyes to look at him. He buried his head in his hands and cried. ‘Help, Help me! Hel-’ he cut off in the middle of his sentence, because the image he had lost earlier came back to him. It was his mother, sitting in the rocker, with him in her lap, burying his head in his hands. She had a big black book open and was reading a chapter called Revelations. She was reading softly about God, who Jason thought was the scariest person in the world. She gently patted his head and told him not to worry, because God was on their side, if they were on His.

Now, back to the present, he realized that maybe why God had always looked so scary to him was because he wasn’t on God’s side. He got up enough courage to speak, and the first thing he said was, ‘Am I dead?’ God knelt down to Jason’s height and spoke softly, His voice different once again. ‘He who is alive in me is never dead.’

Jason didn’t understand. ‘You didn’t answer my question! Am I dead?’

God continued to look at him in the same loving way and said, ‘only you can answer that. Do you want to live? I can give you life if you want it…’

Jason’s eyes widened with conviction, ‘so I am dead, but you can bring me back to life, huh?’ He straightened his shoulders and held his head erect. ‘Please, get me out of here.’ God stood up and a whirlwind of clouds surrounded them. Abruptly, the pain was back in Jason’s chest, and he was lying on a clean white bed, in the middle of a hospital room. It was a welcome change from the fiery place he had just come from. He remembered his dream then, and thought about what God had said. ‘He who is alive in me is never dead.’ The words seemed to echo throughout the tiny room, which was perfectly white.

He sat up in the bed and took in his surroundings, from the beeping cardiogram, to the tiny IV tube running out of his arm. He could scarcely believe it. He was alive. ‘He who is alive in me is never dead’. The words now seemed to resonate through the small space, over and over again. Jason shouted out with vehemence, ‘Praise God, I’m Alive!’ he raised his hands, and started singing. ‘I’m Alive!’ The IV pulled out of his arm and a small alarm somewhere went off. Two nurses in white rushed into the room, both in a hurry. One laid Jason down while another slipped the IV back into his arm. ‘Yes, you’re alive, but you still need this.’ She said with a smile. He laughed with her and tried to tell her what had happened to him. But she thought he was crazy and just kept smiling and nodding, then both the nurses went away.

Jason never forgot what happened to him. He remained a strong Christian, even when he went to jail for drug-dealing. He directed many people to Christ, most of them criminals, and when he was finally released five years later, he went to college to study to become a pastor. Each and every day, when hardships arrive, he thinks about his dream, and remembers how God had scared him so much, but knows that without God and His amazing grace, he would still just be a drug-dealer in some dingy small-town. He shares his testimony every day, showing people the gold brick road that leads to Christ. And his one motto is, ‘He who is alive in Christ Jesus is never dead.’

Jason’s story is just one of the thousands of testimonies that believers all over the world share with others. If you have a testimony, share it with someone who doesn’t know God. You’d be surprised at the many mysterious ways God can work in the lives of his Children.

A Midsummer Nightmare


Joined February 2008

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